“Mr. Jones, I’m sick of seeing your face in my office!” Mr. Dehaven shouted as Jackson sat in a chair before him.
“I’m sick of being here,” Jackson grumbled to himself. Since he had joined the NERDS, Jackson had been in Dehaven’s office seven times.
“You have been late for school every day for two weeks. Why is that?”
Jackson rolled through a list of previously constructed lies: he was attacked by dogs, the power went out and his alarm clock didn’t go off, his house burned down, etc. Jackson wanted to tell Dehaven the truth. He wanted to tell him that he hadn’t been getting enough sleep because he was busy learning to fight and be sneaky and to interrogate suspects, and reading through mountains of files and reports on every little squabble anyone had ever had for the last twenty years. He wanted to tell him everything so Dehaven would get off his back, but he couldn’t. He had been sworn to secrecy.
“I know exactly why you’re late every day,” Dehaven barked.
Jackson felt a bead of sweat roll down his face. “You do?”
“I do. You’re late because you have no respect for anyone or anything other than yourself. You’re lazy and shiftless, and won’t amount to much. Unfortunately, I am required by law to keep trying to reach out to you so that you know what a wonderful gift an education can be. And I assure you, you’re going to appreciate it whether you like it or not. Now, what are we going to do about this problem, Mr. Jones? Hmmm?”
“I’m not sure. I probably need to think about it,” Jackson said.
“I couldn’t agree more. Thinking about it is exactly what you should do and the best place to do that is in detention. How about two weeks?”
“Two weeks!” Jackson cried.
“See, there’s an old saying, son. When you mess with the bull, you get the horns. I’m the bull, Mr. Jones.” Jackson watched as Dehaven made horns on the side of his head with his fingers.
Jackson shuffled down the hall feeling as if the whole world were on his shoulders. Since joining the team, his grades had plummeted, his teachers looked at him like he was a degenerate, and his father was considering sending him to military school. On top of that, he was blowing it big time with his training. He was getting better at some things. He’d managed to avoid the tetherball for almost ten minutes and caught a few more Toyotas with his braces, but the kindergarteners were still beating him senseless, he hadn’t fooled Ruby’s lie detection once, and Matilda had pummeled him with an egg timer, a Whiffle ball bat, a ream of copy paper, and a jar of dill pickles in the span of a week. He was sure Agent Brand would kick him off the team at any moment.
As he slipped Mr. Pfeiffer his tardy note, he wondered if he was cut out to be a secret agent. It was so much work and the team expected nothing but perfection. He wished he could go back to his old life, when he was popular and carefree. He sat down and listened to Pfeiffer prattle on about online dating and quietly envied the man. Pfeiffer had no idea what was happening at this school, and he was happy. Ignorance was bliss.
At that moment, he felt a strong tingle in his nose, and let loose with an explosive sneeze. A second later, he was following the rest of the team toward the lockers that led to the Playground.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Duncan responded. He was the only one who would talk to Jackson outside of training. “Probably a mission.”
Jackson stepped into the locker he’d been assigned by Brand.
As usual, the floor disappeared and he was tossed around in the secret tubes, landing at last in the Playground, on his rump. The others, naturally, landed on their feet.
“Please take your seats, agents,” Brand said as he gestured to the circular desk in the center of the room. As everyone was getting settled, Ms. Holiday arrived. She looked nervous and worried, and stood off to the side while chewing on a fingernail. When everyone was settled, Brand waved his hand over the blue orb, which brought it to life.
“Benjamin, we’re ready for our briefing,” Brand said.
Benjamin’s voice filled the room. “Of course, Agent Brand.”
The orb sent flecks of light dancing around the room. After a moment, they came together to reveal a series of photographs.
Brand spoke. “As you know, we’ve been tracking several kidnappings in the scientific community. The number of big brains that have been abducted is growing by the day. Dr. Robert Hill, a preeminent geologist; Dr. Judy Pray, an expert on tides and water movement; Dr. Francis Pizzani, a specialist in antigravitational devices; and, lastly, Dr. Joseph Lunich, who recently invented something called the miniature tractor beam.”
“It’s truly a marvelous device,” Duncan said. “It has hundreds of practical applications.”
“As usual, Gluestick is ahead of us all,” Brand said. “Yes, Dr. Lunich is missing, as is one of his prototypes.”
Matilda took a hit off her inhaler. “Who is doing the kidnapping?”
“We don’t have a clue,” Ms. Holiday said with a sigh. “But we did retrieve this at the scene of the last kidnapping. It was found next to an expensive black boot.”
A copy of a yellow list appeared before them. The names Brand had just listed were crossed off, but there was one that still hadn’t been touched. “We believe whoever is doing the goon work left this behind.”
“Could this have something to do with all the crazy moving islands?” Flinch said as he sucked the cream filling out of a cupcake with a straw.
“My thoughts as well,” Brand said. “That’s why we’re taking over these kidnapping cases. Normally, this is a job for the FBI, but if the events are somehow connected, then it’s more than the feds can handle.”
“So all the scientists have been crossed off but one,” Ruby said. “Who’s the lucky person?”
Ms. Holiday ran her hand over the orb and a photograph of a middle-aged woman with dark skin and a thin face appeared. “Dr. Nashwa Badawi—a mineralogist who discovered a rare substance that can be used in supercharged solar power collectors. Her work has countless commercial and military applications. I’m told that one five-foot panel matches the fuel output of a nuclear power plant. It’s clean and cheap, too. Badawi may very well have created a fuel source for the next generation!”
“Geology, solar power, tidal movement—whoever is behind this is obviously up to something big, and whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Ruby said.
“We’ve got analysts trying to figure out what it might be, but for now we have to make sure that Dr. Badawi is safe,” Ms. Holiday explained.
“So we’re bodyguards now?” Heathcliff asked.
Brand ignored the sarcasm in the boy’s voice. “Our mission is to outmaneuver the bad guys. We’re going to kidnap Dr. Badawi before they can.”
Ruby sat back in her chair, stunned. “Kidnap her?”
Brand nodded. “If we pick her up and hide her, it puts a stop to whoever is behind this list. We did this many times when I worked for the Special Operations Bureau. Ms. Holiday has more about the mission.”
Brand turned and walked away.
“He’s not what I’d call a chatty guy,” Jackson said.
Ms. Holiday gave a knowing smile. She straightened her glasses and skirt, and placed her hand on a panel near the spinning blue orb. The images faded and were replaced by a scene of a desert. “The Nile River Valley in Egypt is a dry one hundred and two degrees today—”
“Wait! We’re going to Egypt?” Jackson cried. “I can’t go to Egypt! I’ve got detention.”
The group stared at him as if he were a babbling idiot.
“I’m serious,” Jackson said. “I’m in big trouble. My grades are falling and Dehaven has decided to make me his personal project.”
Heathcliff shot him a disgusted look. “You’re going to have to figure out how to solve your school problems on your own, Braceface.”
Ms. Holiday continued her presentation. “Your ultimate destination is Cairo, the capital city of Egypt. It has a population of nearly seventeen million, so it’s going to be pretty crowded. It’s also a dangerous place. The government is in a state of flux, and religious zealots are struggling for control. Westerners are still welcome, but they aren’t always respected or left alone. You’ll have to be careful.”
“When do we leave?” Matilda asked.
“Now,” a voice said from behind them. Jackson turned and saw the lunch lady. “Let’s get to the School Bus!”
The children and Ms. Holiday followed the lunch lady down a hallway. Jackson had concerns. “Um, I don’t know a lot of about geography, but I know we can’t drive to Cairo in a school bus.”
The others ignored him and stepped through sliding doors that led to a passageway. At the end of the passage, Jackson saw they were inside the school’s gymnasium. Agent Brand was waiting for them in the center of the room. He stood near a rope hanging from the ceiling. Jackson knew the rope well. He held the school time record for climbing. Brand pulled on it three times and a violent rumbling rose from beneath Jackson. A huge section of the gym’s floor slid aside, and from below an incredible machine rose. As it came into view, Jackson understood what it was—a rocket. It was bright orange and had small wings at the bottom. Once it was fully up, a dozen scientists in jumpsuits attached an enormous hose to its side. A moment later, the odor of fuel flooded Jackson’s nose. “What’s that?” Jackson asked.
“That is the TA-48 Orbital Jet,” the lunch lady said proudly. “But we call it the School Bus.”
There was a loud siren wailing from speakers mounted on the wall. A moment later, Jackson could hear a voice beckoning all students to the basement because of a tornado warning.
“There isn’t a cloud in the sky,” Jackson said.
“True,” the lunch lady replied. “But getting everyone into a crouched position in the basement distracts them for a while.”
“Let’s get that roof retracted, people,” Brand shouted, and in no time there was more rumbling, this time from above. Jackson saw the gymnasium roof spreading apart, revealing the blue sky.
Ms. Holiday ushered the children up a small flight of stairs to the rocket’s door. “Come along. We have to get you on board.”
“On board!” Jackson exclaimed. “I can’t fly in a rocket.”
Heathcliff, Duncan, Matilda, Ruby, and Flinch eyed him with disgust.
“It’s always about you,” Ruby said as the rest of the team entered the hull of the ship. Jackson reluctantly followed. Brand and Holiday brought up the rear.
Duncan rubbed his hands together eagerly as he strapped himself into one of eight leather seats. “I love missions!”
“Do I get to blow something up?” Matilda asked.
“That remains to be seen,” Brand replied, helping the librarian into her seat and then taking his own.
A group of workers brought in six stuffed backpacks. Ms. Holiday smiled. “Oh, good, do they have everything?”
One of the workers nodded. “Everything that was on your list.”
“You can put those in the storage compartment,” Ms. Holiday said. The men opened a panel at the front of the jet and shoved the packs inside. A moment later the men were gone. No sooner had they left than the lunch lady climbed aboard.
“You ready to get this bird in the air?” she asked.
Brand nodded.
“She’s the pilot? That woman can’t make meat loaf. How is she going to fly a rocket?”
The lunch lady reached up and snatched her dull brown hair off her head. Jackson quickly realized she had been wearing a wig and had a clean-shaven bald head underneath. Then it dawned on him that the lunch lady wasn’t a lady at all.
“You don’t like my meat loaf, kid?” the lunch lady grunted. “I’m hurt.”
“Buckle up,” Ms. Holiday said.
Jackson considered jumping up and rushing out the open door while he still had a chance. Unfortunately, one of the workers slammed it shut. There was a loud roar and a sudden burst of speed, which caused Jackson to sink into his seat.
“Blast off.” Flinch cried. Jackson was horrified. He could feel the skin on his face clinging to his skull as it was pulled backward by the g-force, and he imagined the whole machine exploding. He turned to his window only to see the ship shoot out of the top of the school and rise higher and higher in the sky, up into the blackness of space. If he craned his neck, he could see the entire planet below. That’s when Jackson screamed.
And screamed …
… and screamed.
“Oh boy,” Heathcliff said, rolling his eyes. “I think we have a barfer on our hands.”
YOU’RE BACK!
UNBELIEVABLE. WELL,
TO BE HONEST, YOU’RE
DOING VERY WELL. OUR
DNA EXAMINATIONS HAVE
REVEALED YOU HAVE
A LOT OF NERDINESS
RUNNING THROUGH
YOUR BLOOD. IN FACT,
SENSORS REVEAL THAT
YOU ARE PRACTICALLY 90
PERCENT NERD. THAT’S
A LOT OF NERD. STILL,
THE BIG SHOTS AREN’T
COMPLETELY CONVINCED.
THEY WANT MORE INFORMATION, SO…
TO GRANT ACCESS TO
LEVEL 6, I NEED YOU
TO RUB YOUR ARMPIT
ON THE SENSOR.
REALLY, RUB YOUR
PIT ON THE SENSOR.
HMMMM,
SENSOR MALFUNCTION.
TRY THE OTHER PIT.
(I NEED A SHOWER.)
