NERDS: National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society Page 11

  “Give up,” the boy said. “We’ve got her now.”

  The Hyena frowned. “My boss doesn’t pay for me to give up.”

  She was about to push past him when something crazy happened. The boy opened his mouth and strands of his braces sprang out, formed a giant hand, and latched onto her arm. She tried to pull away, but the braces wouldn’t allow it.

  “Let me go, you carnival reject,” she demanded.

  “Not until you call off your goons,” the boy said.

  The Hyena had had enough. Cute or not, this boy was in her way. Her arms weren’t free, but her feet were. She aimed a kick at the boy’s chin. His weird braces loosened their grip, and the Hyena slipped out and raced for the stairs.

  Unfortunately, when she got downstairs to the street, she found her so-called crack team of mercenaries getting their butts handed to them by another eleven-year-old boy. He was dressed in a weird harness and was tossing the goons around like rag dolls. He was scrawny, but had unbelievable strength. She watched him punch one of her goons, a man three times his size, sending him tumbling thirty yards down the street. But he wasn’t the only obstacle. Flying above them was an Asian girl—were those inhalers in her hands?—who kept buzzing by the goons, distracting them. Then there was another boy with bright red hair and the biggest set of front teeth she had ever seen on a human being. She couldn’t be sure how he was doing it, but he had somehow convinced half of her team to turn on itself. Soon the goons were in the midst of an all-out brawl. The Hyena raced into the melee, dodging flying fists and angry elbows. The sticky boy and the scientist were weaving through the crowd ahead of the Hyena, but her agility and speed would allow her to catch up to them fast. She was within hands’ reach of her prey when the boy with braces materialized again.

  “You’ve got my scientist,” the Hyena said to him.

  “Sorry, finders keepers,” he replied as four long metallic arms crept out of his mouth, planted themselves on the ground, and lifted him up like a spider.

  “OK, that’s cool in a very disgusting kind of way, but I recommend you move,” she said.

  “Can’t do that,” the boy said.

  “Your mistake,” she said as she leaped into the air. She planted her hands on his shoulders and used him as a springboard to flip herself over his body. She kicked him in the back of the head in the process. He fell hard on his face, but she didn’t stick around to see if he was hurt. Glue boy and the scientist were climbing aboard a camel and racing off down a back alley. She’d never catch them on foot. Spotting another camel nearby, she climbed into its saddle, took the reins, and dug her heels into the animal’s ribs. It roared and took off like a rocket.

  The Hyena had ridden many horses in her day; equestrian talents were a major plus in the world of beauty pageants. But a camel is only similar to a horse in that it has hair and four legs. Riding a horse is like floating on smooth waves. Riding a camel is like riding a barrel over a waterfall: bouncy, uncomfortable, and, factoring in camel saliva, very wet. Still, the Hyena would rather face camel spit than go back to Jigsaw empty-handed. She was not going into the fire pit like Dr. Lunich!

  They raced down back alleys, weaving through hidden neighborhoods and causing panicked people to leap out of their way. An old woman tossed a pail of brown water out of her window right on the Hyena’s head. A man dragged a cart with a broken wheel across her path. After much shouting, she got around him and continued her pursuit. Her target made a left turn onto a long stretch of lonely road that crossed over an empty riverbed. The Hyena dug her heels into the camel again and soon the distance between her and the sticky boy had shortened.

  She was seconds away when the odd boy with the mechanical mouth came stomping past her. He sidled up to the chubby boy, then a fifth limb crept out of his mouth and pulled Dr. Badawi away from Glueboy. Glueboy shouted angrily at Metalmouth, but in the process, he fell off his camel and tumbled end over end down the embankment to the dry riverbed below. Metalmouth, however, just kept running. If he noticed that his companion had taken a nosedive into the dust, he didn’t seem concerned.

  The Hyena raced after him, but his machine legs outpaced the camel two steps to one, and in no time he was out of the city proper and into the hot, brutal desert. As he slipped farther and farther away, the Hyena began to feel Dr. Jigsaw’s trap door sliding out from under her. She was nearly resigned to a fiery death when a miracle occurred. As she chased the boy up a sandy embankment, she saw an army of men on horseback approach. Each was brandishing a huge sword and screaming angry threats into the air. The men surrounded them all.

  The leader of the militia pointed his sword at the boy’s neck and shouted angrily.

  “Friends of yours?” the Hyena asked him.

  “A few of them had me surrounded this afternoon. I think he’s still angry about the beating I gave him,” the boy replied.

  “You’ve disgraced his manhood,” she said. “You should apologize before he chops off your head.”

  “I don’t speak Arabic,” the boy said.

  “I do,” the Hyena said. “Give me the doctor and I’ll get you out of this.”

  The boy frowned, but a moment later his tentacles were easing the poor doctor onto the back of the Hyena’s camel.

  “Thanks,” she said, as she turned the camel in the opposite direction.

  “Hey! I thought you were going to help me!”

  “Yeah, about that. I don’t really speak their language. But good luck,” she said, then clomped off into the night. She heard an enormous roar from the crowd and the sound of swords clanging.

  “I’M sensing that you’re angry,” Jackson said as Agent Brand paced back and forth. The spy said nothing. Neither did the scientists hovering about in the Playground. Jackson had never heard headquarters so still.

  “I think it’s clear that he’s not cut out for this,” Ruby said before Brand could answer.

  Flinch turned the knob on his harness. “He really blew it.”

  Jackson was livid. “What did you think—I was going to be some superspy right out of the box?”

  “What I thought was you could follow simple orders!” Agent Brand shouted. His words were so loud, Ms. Holiday yelped. “I told you to observe, not get involved.”

  “The team needed my help!”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Heathcliff muttered. “We had the situation under control. We’ve faced bigger problems than a dozen armed goons.”

  “Heathcliff is right,” Brand said. “Your teammates are more than capable. You, however, are not. You are responsible for Dr. Badawi’s kidnapping.”

  “Technically, she was supposed to get kidnapped,” Jackson said.

  “By us!” Heathcliff cried.

  “Plus, you let the enemy know that we are onto them. We’ve lost the element of surprise,” Matilda said.

  Jackson shook his head. Badawi would have been snatched by the girl and her goons whether he had tried to help or not. Wasn’t anyone going to point out that little nugget of information?

  “We should wipe his mind and send him back to class,” Heathcliff said.

  Jackson turned to Duncan. The boy had shown signs of sympathy toward him. Maybe he’d speak up, but Duncan was silently rubbing a bruise on his behind and scowling angrily.

  “I agree,” Flinch said.

  “So do I,” Ruby said. “As team leader, I’m calling for a vote. All those in favor of expelling Joe Quarterback here, say—”

  Brand slammed his hand on the table. Somewhere a guinea pig camera squeaked in fright. “You’re as stubborn as Jackson!” Brand cried.

  Ruby started furiously scratching her legs.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Brand asked the girl.

  “She’s allergic to criticism,” Matilda said.

  Brand groaned. “What has happened to my career! I used to drive an Aston Martin. I used to play high-stakes card games for the fate of the world. I used to date beautiful women.”

  “Gross!” Flinch said.
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  “Now look at me.” The spy threw up his hands in exasperation and stormed out of the room.

  Ms. Holiday brushed the wrinkles from her skirt and stepped forward. “Pufferfish, I’m very disappointed.”

  “What did I do?”

  “That man is one of the greatest secret agents this country has ever seen,” Ms. Holiday said. “He lost part of his leg trying to save the world. The Powers That Be have put him in charge of this group. Perhaps they know something about him that you don’t?”

  “I don’t need to know anything about him,” Ruby muttered.

  “I want all of you to get to work now with Benjamin. Load any information about this mysterious girl you encountered and try to build a three-dimensional model of her so we can search for face matches,” Ms. Holiday said.

  “What about me?” Jackson asked.

  “I said all of you, Braceface,” the librarian replied.

  “So you’re not firing me?”

  “Not today.”

  “Why not?” Heathcliff begged.

  Ms. Holiday flashed Jackson a sympathetic smile as she walked off in the direction of Agent Brand.

  “You’re running out of chances,” Heathcliff said to Jackson.

  “It’s just a matter of time before you’re gone,” Matilda added.

  Jackson was about to argue, but something dawned on him. “Time! What time is it?”

  Duncan looked at his watch. Apparently it did more than shoot lasers. “It’s four thirty.”

  “Four thirty!” Jackson cried. “I’m late for detention!” Dehaven was going to kill him!

  Jackson raced toward the secret entrance that led him out of the lockers. When he was back in the school hallway, he took off at a sprint toward the detention room. He rounded the corner and threw the door open, but the room was empty. There wasn’t a soul waiting inside, only a note written on the chalkboard. It read:

  YOU MESSED WITH THE BULL, JACKSON. NOW IT’S TIME FOR THE HORNS.

  LEVEL 7 CLEARANCE IS

  NEXT, AND YOU’VE EXCEEDED

  EVERYONE’S EXPECTATIONS.

  STILL, FURTHER DNA SAMPLING

  IS REQUIRED. DON’T COMPLAIN.

  I HAD TO GO THROUGH THE

  SAME PROCESS WHEN I BECAME

  A MEMBER OF THE TEAM. IF

  YOU WANT TO BE A SECRET

  AGENT, YOU HAVE TO MAKE

  SACRIFICES. SO INSERT

  YOUR ELBOW IN YOUR EAR,

  REMOVE SOME WAX, AND

  APPLY IT TO THE SENSOR.

  NO, I’M NOT KIDDING. WHY

  WOULD I MAKE THAT UP?

  ELBOW.

  EARWAX.

  NOW!

  LEVEL 7

  ACCESS GRANTED

  BY THE WAY —

  THAT WAS THE FUNNIEST

  THING I’VE EVER SEEN.

  YOU LOOKED RIDICULOUS.

  THE FOLLOWING ARE RECORDED

  TRANSCRIPTS OF CALLS MADE

  FROM THE HYENA’S DIGITAL

  PHONE TO UNKNOWN PERSONS.

  September 30, 13:05

  Unknown:

  Hello.

  Hyena:

  Hey, my name is the Hyena. I’m a professional assassin and I was wondering if you guys need anyone killed over there. I do a lot of freelance work.

  Unknown:

  Uh, what did you say your name was?

  Hyena:

  The Hyena.

  Unknown:

  Yeah, well, thanks for your call, but we do our killing in-house.

  Hyena:

  Well, could I at least send my résumé? You never know when problems might spring up.

  Unknown:

  How old are you?

  Hyena:

  I’m twelve ... almost thirteen.

 

  Hyena:

  Hello? Hello?

  September 30, 13:20

  Unknown:

  Secret Lair. How can I help you?

  Hyena:

  I was wondering if you’re hiring contract killers.

  Unknown:

  Hmmm, I don’t think so. I know we’ve got plenty of positions open for goons.

  Hyena:

  No thanks.

  September 30, 13:28

  Unknown:

  Fortress of Doom. How can I direct your cell?

  Hyena:

  Yes, I saw your ad for the assassin job.

  Unknown:

  Let me transfer you our human resources department.

 

  Unknown HR:

  Human Resources.

  Hyena:

  Yes, I was calling in regard to the ad I saw on Craigslist for the assassin job.

  Unknown HR:

  Yes, I’m afraid we filled that position.

  Hyena:

  Fudge.

  Unknown HR:

  But the boss just went on a killing spree yesterday and a dozen henchmen were cut in half by our giant saw.

  Hyena:

  Henchman, huh? What’s the costume?

  Unknown HR:

  Bumblebee.

  Hyena:

  (Sighs) How bad is it?

  Unknown HR:

  (Whispering) Between you and me, it’s horrible. The suit is yellow and black and makes you look fat. Black tights, black turtleneck, goofy hat with bouncy antennas, but the worst part is the stinger on the bum. The boss has a thing about hives. Calls himself the Yellow Jacket. Looks like a complete moron ...

 

  Unknown HR:

  Hey! Let go of me!

  Hyena:

  What’s going on?

  Unknown HR:

  No, I won’t go. No! Oh, help me. They’re taking me to the saw!

 

  September 30, 13:30

  Unknown:

  Domino’s Pizza.

  Hyena:

  Yeah, how far north do you deliver?

  Unknown:

  How far north are you?

  Hyena:

  By the pole.

  Unknown:

  What pole?

  Hyena:

  The North one.

 

  Hyena:

  I hate this crummy job.

  When Jackson arrived home, he weighed his options. Should he tell his father about his secret life? Or keep silent? He had promised never to reveal the existence of NERDS, but he began to wonder if it was a promise he could keep.

  As he opened his front door, he made a decision. “Dad! I have something important to tell you,” he shouted as he entered the house and walked down the hall. In the dining room, he saw something that shocked him to the core. Mr. Dehaven was sipping a cup of coffee. Jackson’s father was sitting across from him. Butch was in a chair too. Jackson wasn’t sure which of the three had the more disapproving look.

  “Good evening, Mr. Jones,” Mr. Dehaven said. “You missed our appointment today, so I took the liberty of making a personal visit to find out why. Your father and I have had a chat about your grades and attitude.”

  “Have a seat, buster,” Jackson’s father said.

  The lecture that followed this request was peppered with words like “disappointed,” “astonished,” “surprised,” “furious,” and “flabbergasted.” All the while, Dehaven sat idly by with an amused smile.

  “Jackson, do you have an explanation for all of this?” his father demanded.

  Jackson felt like standing up and shouting, “Yes! I have an explanation. I’m a secret agent and all day long I work with a team that saves the world from bad guys. We have a rocket and laser watches and a nose walkie-talkie and guinea pig cameras, and it is eating up every moment of my life!”

  But he didn’t. Instead he dropped his head and apologized.

  “Well, you can forget the marching band and all the other extracurricular activities you’re involved with. Plus, no TV or video games until your grades are back up to snuff.”

  “Mr. Jones, I think those are all very good start
s, but I’m afraid I have to send a clear message, not only to Jackson but to the other troublemaking students at Nathan Hale. I’m going to have to suspend Jackson for three days.”

  Jackson’s father took a deep breath and pointed upward. “To your room!”

  As Jackson backed out of the room, he saw Dehaven make little bull horns on the sides of his head.

  Jackson climbed the stairs to his room and closed the door behind him. He flopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He could still feel sand between his toes and was sure there was a pound of it trapped in his underwear.

  Just then, his bedroom door opened. Chaz poked his head inside. “What’s all the commotion, Nerdbot?”

  “I got suspended from school,” Jackson explained.

  “Duh! People on the next block know that,” his brother said. “The way dad was shouting, I wasn’t sure you were going to survive. Does this have something to do with your new friends?”

  Jackson nodded.

  “How could you hang out with those losers?” Chaz’s face curled up like he had just smelled something foul.

  “No one else wanted me,” Jackson said. The truth was sour in his mouth.

  “I’d rather be alone than hang out with those dorks,” Chaz said. “Tell Dad I went to practice.”

  A moment later, he was gone.

  Jackson looked over at the desk in his room. There he saw a picture of his father, Chaz, and him. His mother had taken it at a Washington Redskins game. The three of them had their arms around each other’s shoulders, and they were grinning. That day seemed like a million years ago. The next day Jackson awoke to find a strange woman standing over him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and realized she was Mrs. Pressman, an elderly neighbor. Mrs. Pressman was a cranky woman with thick glasses and an aroma of vegetable soup that followed her everywhere. Jackson wondered if it was her natural smell or if she was buying perfume from the Campbell’s Soup Company. Regardless, it didn’t explain why she was in his bedroom.