Scout's Honor: Excerpt from The Ladybird Handbook–Chapter 4

All mulligrubs with solid black eyes can be removed with pure peppermint. Ladybird brand Pippy-Mint should be cultivated for this purpose.

Carnivore-class grubs, also called White-Eyes, should be considered hostile and dangerous, particularly if they display signs of hybridization.

A scout must cover her nose and mouth when confronting Dreary Blight to avoid infection.

NOCK JAW. Drawn to happiness. Flat head with jaw that connects near the nape of the neck, allowing the mouth to hinge fully open. Slender, sharp teeth. Eyes on either side of the head. Reptilian, with a wide pink body ending in a prehensile tail.

FRIGHTWORMS. Drawn to fear. A dense ivory-colored worm with a segmented body and centipedal green legs. Can grow fifty to one hundred legs, depending on intensity of food source. Eyes on the top of the head, with mouth and mandibles hidden underneath.

TIZZY LOUSE. Drawn to apprehension. Smallest known mulligrub, rarely found to be over six inches tall. Orange-furred body with dozens of tiny sacs that operate as feet. Cannot blink both eyes at the same time. Releases repulsion pheromone to deter banishment.

The mission of Ladybird Scouts is to promote
 peace, prudence, and public good.

Thirteen-year-old me would never believe that my all-time number-one crush—whom I once code-named “My Hobbiton Prince” so I could journal about him with impunity—would actually like me back.

Historically speaking, when girls talk about things no one else can see, they tend to wind up dead. Scouts call it the Cassandra Paradox. The girl who speaks the unpalatable truth dies.

Different scouts have different missions. Girl Scouts sell cookies and sing silly songs. Boy Scouts are very proud of their belt buckles. Camp Fire is about glorifying work because they had nothing left once Native American appropriation fell out of fashion.

After a big emotional moment—a burst of anger, a jolt of sadness, a sudden wave of elation—there’s a hair-raising awareness at the base of your neck, sharp as invisible fangs.

The energy suddenly drains away from you, leaving you almost numb. The Handbook calls it “instant ennui.”

All the water was pulled out of the hedge and sent somewhere else, warping it like a bad Photoshop. And, behind it, a glimmer of iridescence, a thin rainbow sheen.

Of the five types of mulligrubs, Tizzy Lice are the smallest breed, generally considered to be a minor annoyance. They’re a manifestation of apprehension more likely to multiply than to go Carnivore.

He stops short on the sidewalk and holds up a tactical fist like he’s suddenly a Navy SEAL, not a gangly seventeen-year-old with a wispy goatee he’s weirdly proud of.

The serrated edge of a mint leaf prickles against my forearm.

Even under a night sky, my yard falls flat by comparison. A strip of lawn to the right and a cement patio to the left with a redwood pergola.

I brace myself for endless teeth, the ravenous hunger that people weren’t meant to See—

Any daughter of a scout is born into a
 sisterhood, as well as a heroic legacy.

Mom says the word sweatshirt like it’s an interdimensional scourge.

Every spring, she points at the kids setting up shop in front of the grocery stores and says, All those girls indoctrinated into cookie capitalism could be saving the world, you know.

Trained to see every slight discrepancy in normalcy and squash problems before they’re problems, the scouts are nothing but a group of tattletales.

So, to keep from stirring up any witch hunts or lobotomies, I always have to talk around the truth with my boyfriend, giving him most—but never all—of the facts.

My sister has been off at college for two whole years, yet Chancho still talks about her old Ladybird initiatives like they’re a normal part of life.

I still remember how she cut into the flesh between the grub’s eyes, carving out its gnarled Root.

“In my twelve years of experience with Avianna,” Chancho says in a voice of deep musing, “it doesn’t really matter what you want to teach her. She’s gonna learn what she wants to learn. It’s Kelsey you gotta worry about. She’s not family.”

It’s possible I misheard him. The combination of nut butter and chocolate isn’t the best for his elocution.

I glance around the corner at the kitchen, which is empty except for a cutting board with cucumber rinds and bread crust. The usual detritus of Ladybirds.

“Well, if all goes well, maybe Prudence can go back to having that Handbook pink ’do,” Mom says with a throaty, disingenuous laugh. I know for a fact that she’d rather die a thousand deaths than let me dye my hair again.

I pass a cup to Dame Debby first, in deference to her seniority.

I hate knowing that those stats are emblazoned on the Ladybird Headquarters website, making even just one other little girl think she needs to compete against some stranger to make the list.

“With one exception, she was an excellent hunter. But a Dame has to be able to uphold every part of the Ladybird mission...” She pauses like she wants to add, Not just be named after one. Because it is particularly embarrassing that my name is, in fact, one of the virtues espoused by the Ladybird Scouts founder, Kitty Crosby-Fowler.

Beneath the lavender hat, Dame Debby’s eyelashes flutter demurely.

From inside her purse, Dame Debby fishes out a senior scout pin. Unlike the real silver robin Dame brooch she has pinned to her shoulder, the enamel badge I’m given is the Ladybird Crest: crossed knitting needles, a white glove, a cup of tea, mint leaves.

But if you want to move up to the full complement of scouts and the paycheck, you’ll need to fill out those charms, miss missy.

A scout is supposed to exemplify a balanced life.

“It’s a shame you can’t forget.”
The word roots me to the spot. To anyone else, it would be an idle threat. But to a scout, it’s the ultimate taboo. The undo button.

Faithlynn bites her sandwich in half and chews with relish.

Ignoring my revulsion, I scoop it up with a napkin and throw it into the teapot, where it meets the peppermint and gives a muffled pop out of existence.

“Aww,” Faithlynn simpers with an evil smile stretched across her lips. “Look what I made you do.”