“We won’t forget this.”

The lunch lady was a man. He was burly and greasy, with gray chest hair sprouting out the top of his shirt. He acknowledged Spencer and Daisy with a wave of his rolling pin as Ms. Bellingham motioned them into the kitchen.

“What do you think we have to do?” Daisy whispered as the kitchen door closed behind them. “We don’t have lunch duty at Welcher Elementary.”

“We’re supposed to help serve lunch,” Spencer said. “I had to do this at my old school.” There were four other kids in the kitchen. They stood at the serving counter, handing food under the plastic sneeze guard to their classmates.

“HAIRNETS!” the lunch man yelled. Daisy jumped as he slammed his rolling pin onto the countertop. In three steps the big man was looming over them with a hairnet and apron in each hand.

Daisy had some trouble trapping her thick braid under the hairnet, but in a moment, she and Spencer were ready for lunch duty.

The lunch man pointed one hairy finger at Spencer and shouted, “SPAGHETTI!” Then he turned to Daisy. “MEATBALLS!” Then he lumbered back to the rolling pin, as if his one-word instructions were sufficient.

Daisy had threaded her apron strings under Baybee’s arms so the doll dangled at her waist. “Come on, spaghetti man.” She strode past Spencer and approached a steaming vat of meatballs at the counter. Spencer was at her side, and before they knew it, they were serving spaghetti and meatballs to the students of Triton Charter School.

Between each serving, Spencer stole a glance into the cafeteria. The students were pretty rowdy, but food wasn’t flying yet. The rambunctious behavior made sense as Spencer caught sight of six or seven little Toxites skittering around the cafeteria. The presence of the creatures was more evidence that the temporary janitor at Triton Charter was working for the BEM. A Rebel school would have had those Toxites under control.

In a way, the creatures would be helpful today. The Toxites in the cafeteria would make the students far more likely to join in the food fight.

But Spencer grimaced. Why hadn’t the fight started yet? For a moment, Spencer wondered if Aaron had chickened out. If he didn’t make a mess soon, the BEM janitor would never leave the maintenance closet. Spencer mindlessly served spaghetti as he scanned the tables for his Monitor friend.

“No way!” said one of the students as a few noodles slipped off the side of his tray. Spencer’s attention turned back to his serving. Standing on the other side of the plastic sneeze guard was Aaron.

“There you are!” Spencer said.

“I got held up in class,” Aaron said. “Had to finish a writing assignment.”

“Make sure to get extra sauce and meatballs,” Spencer said, ladling a second serving of noodles onto his tray.

“But I really wanted pizza today,” Aaron said, glancing down the line to the students serving pepperoni pizza. He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Spencer.”

“Of course you can,” Spencer urged. “All you have to do is get somebody to throw back at you. In a couple of minutes the place will be a mess and no one will remember who started it.”

“What if nobody throws back? What if I’m the only one?” He was shaking. “I’ll get suspended! Banned from the cafeteria!”

“They’ll throw,” Spencer promised. “Everyone’s looking for an excuse to start a food fight.” Spencer leaned forward. “You know how important this is, Aaron! Remember New Forest Academy? Remember what they did to us there?”

Aaron nodded. Wordlessly he slid his tray along, accepting extra sauce and meatballs from Daisy. Spencer watched him stop at the salad bar, heaping lettuce and tomatoes onto the corner of his tray. Aaron glanced toward the kitchen one last time. Spencer caught his eye and gave a silent nod of encouragement.

Aaron suddenly whirled around, lifting the tray above his head and flinging his lunch into the air. It was an excellent spread, showering more than half of the tables with red sauce, meatballs, and spaghetti noodles.

The cafeteria fell silent. Students turned in their seats, expressions of shock and disbelief on their faces. Aaron lowered his tray and backed up to the salad bar.

“Come on, throw something back,” Spencer muttered under his breath. “Somebody throw something . . .”

There was a war cry at Spencer’s side. He turned to see Daisy leap across the kitchen counter, duck under the sneeze guard, and hurl a handful of meatballs at the back of Aaron’s head. Her aim was mostly off, sending three of the meatballs splattering onto the table by the salad bar.

Then, with the rowdiness of school lunch and a haze of Toxite breath in the cafeteria, a full-scale food fight broke loose.

A flying fruit cup hit Daisy in the shoulder, flinging pineapple chunks into her ear. A piece of pizza struck Aaron in the chest, and he went down under the salad bar. Somebody’s steamed broccoli hit the ceiling, while the corner table was caught in an onslaught of stringy spaghetti.

“CAFETERIA!” the burly lunch man roared. He raced from the back of the kitchen, brandishing his rolling pin. Spencer couldn’t let the lunch man break up the food fight. Not when it had just started getting good!

Spencer grabbed the huge pot of red sauce. Heaving it off the serving counter, he knocked it to the kitchen floor, covering the tiles in Ragu. The lunch man slipped in the sauce and went down, rolling pin flying out of his hand. His momentum carried him across the kitchen and smashed him into the serving counter. The force of impact tipped the pot of noodles.

“SPAGHETTI!” yelled the lunch man as fifteen pounds of wet noodles landed on his head. Instantly, two of the lunch duty students latched on to Spencer. They grabbed his arms, trying to pull him down. But Spencer’s latex glove was not a normal lunch duty glove. He slipped out of their grasp like Jell-O.

The kitchen was no longer safe. And even though the cafeteria was a virtual war zone, Spencer decided to take his chances out there. He dove across the serving counter, grabbing the vat of meatballs as he slid under the sneeze guard.

Spencer had thrown at least a dozen meatballs when a piece of pizza slapped him in the face. Before he could recover, the vat was swiped away by another student, forcing Spencer to retreat.

He slid through fruit juice and ducked under the salad bar. Daisy was hunkered low, a couple of olives in each hand. Her head was covered in Ragu. Reddish noodles wrapped around her neck like an edible scarf.

Aaron was next to her, one eye squinted shut, Thousand Island dressing oozing down his face. He had half a banana in one hand and some steamed broccoli in the other.

“I’m really starting to wonder if this was a bad idea,” Aaron said to Spencer as a lunch tray clattered to the floor next to him.

“Take it up with the president of the Monitors,” Spencer said, dodging a cucumber slice. “This was Min’s planning.”

“I don’t know how much longer we can hold out!” Aaron hurled his broccoli like green grenades. “You guys should get out of here while you still can!”

“Not until that janitor shows up!” said Spencer.

“Is that her?” Daisy pointed across the chaos of the cafeteria. A lean woman in blue coveralls was rolling a cleaning machine into the lunchroom.

“That’s her!” Aaron shouted. “Now go! I’ll cover you!”

“Thanks, man,” Spencer said. “We won’t forget this.” Spencer slid out from under the salad bar just in time to see a big pair of sneakers tromping forward.

“SALAD BAR!” roared the lunch man.

“Not you again!” Spencer reached into the salad bar and grabbed a bottle of dressing. Squeezing with all his might, he sent a stream of white shooting from the bottle and into the lunch man’s face.

“DRESSING!” He blundered, trying to wipe his eyes. At the same time, Aaron pitched his half banana under the big guy’s foot. The lunch man toppled with a grunt.

“Is he okay?” Daisy asked, scooting out from under the salad bar.

“I bleu-cheesed him!” Spencer said, throwing down the empty bottle of salad dressing.

Spencer and Daisy sprinted across the filthy cafeteria. Teachers and staff were everywhere, getting caught in the crossfire as they tried to break up the massive food fight. Twice, teachers reached out for Spencer and Daisy, but the Glopified latex gloves made them uncatchable.

Spencer took a chocolate pudding to the back of the head. Daisy slipped on some mandarin oranges. They each caught a splatter of Ragu to the face before they burst through the door and into the quiet hallway.

Spencer got his bearings and raced back the way they’d come. With all eyes on the cafeteria, the way to the janitorial closet was wide open. The cafeteria was a mess, but Aaron was a hero.

They passed the bathrooms, took a right, and came to a halt in front of the maintenance closet. A pineapple chunk fell from Spencer’s chest and splatted on the floor. Daisy absently tucked a strand of spaghetti behind her ear.

Spencer reached into his pocket for a bit of vacuum dust as Daisy untied Baybee from her apron strings. Then Spencer threw open the closet door and they raced inside.