Somewhere, something exploded.
Brand continued the tour, showing Jackson a bank of desks manned by men and women watching video monitors. “We also have a full team of experts who search the globe for trouble. Our eyes are everywhere, so that we can stop a problem before it starts. This is where missions start and end, Jackson.”
The spy led him to a wall with a big red button on it. He instructed Jackson to press his back against the wall, and then Brand pushed the button. The wall spun around, and they found themselves in a tight, confined space that smelled of body odor. The spy opened a door and the two stepped out into one of the school hallways. Jackson realized they had come back through another set of lockers—just as he had entered the Playground on the first day of his screwy new life.
They walked down the hallway to the library.
“I want you to meet our information specialist, Ms. Holiday.”
“Ms. Holiday—you mean the librarian? She’s a spy?” Jackson cried.
Agent Brand nodded. “She assists with mission intelligence, cover stories, clothing and weapons, and mission preparation. At the moment she’s relaying the latest intelligence on an ongoing investigation to the team. Why don’t we go in and say hello? I’m sure they will be thrilled to hear you’ve agreed to join them.”
They stepped through the doorway and found Heathcliff, Ruby, Matilda, Duncan, and Flinch sitting at a round table. They looked angry.
Jackson was puzzled. Maybe they were angry about their mission, because surely, deep down, nerds would be honored to hang out with a kid like him. He turned to the nerds and smiled his best popular-kid smile. “Listen up, folks. I’m thrilled to be joining the team. Clearly, you needed someone with a little athletic ability, and it doesn’t hurt that I’m cute and brimming with charm. I mean, you’ve seen those James Bond movies. He looks a lot more like me than he does the rest of you. So, I guess I’ll be the face of the team and you guys can do whatever it is you do behind the scenes. Good? Good. Glad to be here.”
Ms. Holiday rushed to Brand’s side. She looked worried.
“Agent Brand, the team has something to say,” she said.
Brand cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“We’ve taken a vote,” Ruby said, and she jumped to her feet.
“A vote?” the spy asked.
“Yes. We have decided that this punk is not right for our team. He has no training. He is a show-off and I doubt he’ll take orders. We have decided to pass.”
Agent Brand’s face tightened like he had just bitten into a very sour pickle.
“Pufferfish,” the spy said. “I’m sure that once the six of you get to know one another—”
“We know everything we need to know about him,” Heathcliff said.
“Hggggaalfhal amldyad aaaal,” Flinch sputtered.
“What did he say?” the spy asked.
The hyper boy turned the knob on this harness and spoke again. “He’s a jerk.”
Suddenly, all the children were shouting angry words at Brand.
“Children!” Ms. Holiday cried over the chaos. “Let’s be professional. Jackson has a lot to offer the team.”
Matilda laughed. “He’ll draw attention to himself and us. He can’t help it. All he cares about is being popular.”
Brand’s face was hot and red. He looked as if he had a million things to say, but he gritted his teeth and said, “Train him.” Then he turned and walked out of the room.
The team was quiet for a moment. It was clear to Jackson they were unused to hearing someone tell them what to do. It was also clear they were very accustomed to getting their way.
Ms. Holiday forced a smile onto her face. “Welcome to the team, Braceface.”
“Uh, can we talk about my code name?” Jackson said.
Ms. Holiday laughed, trying to break the mood. “I suppose we should get your training started. Matilda, why don’t we start with you? Take Jackson down to the Playground and give him some hand-to-hand combat instruction.”
“I refuse,” Matilda wheezed.
She reminded Jackson of a small, squeaky toy that Butch the dog liked to chew. Jackson laughed. “Good, because Ms. Holiday, you should really have someone strong and fast teach me, not this little girl.”
“On second thought …” Matilda smiled slyly then turned to the librarian. “What’s the rule on broken bones?”
Ms. Holiday frowned. “The rule is there can’t be any broken bones,” she scolded.
Matilda frowned. “You’re no fun.”
Matilda led Jackson back through the Playground and into one of the many rooms that lined the main room. She pulled the door closed, and a series of heavy locks turned and sealed them inside. Suddenly, the walls flipped over, revealing a variety of weapons.
“We call this the supply closet. We come here to learn to fight and defend ourselves. I spend at least four hours a day here honing my combat skills.”
Matilda took a hit of her inhaler.
“Honing your combat skills?” Jackson chuckled. “You look like you need help getting out of bed.”
“That’s exactly what makes me a great secret agent. No one suspects I can kick butt. I’ll show you. Pick a weapon and attack me with it.”
“Forget that. I’m not going to hit a girl.”
Matilda’s inhalers blasted hot flames and she rose several feet off the ground. “Good, then this will be a lot easier for me.” The littlest of the spies shot forward and clotheslined Jackson across the chest. He crashed onto his back and cried out in agony.
Once his head cleared, he turned to Matilda. “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you.”
Matilda soared across the room, reached down with one arm, and bodyslammed him back to the floor. Jackson’s lungs burned. He slowly got to his feet. This time his fists were clenched.
“Are you nuts?”
“Are you?” Matilda asked as she spun around like a ballerina in the air and landed on his shoulders. She slammed the flats of her hands against his ears, sending a shock of pain into his brain. “I’m beating you senseless and you’re just taking it.”
Jackson staggered about and waited for the ringing in his skull to subside. While he was recovering, Matilda floated back down to the floor.
“Grab a weapon and fight back.”
“I’m not going to hit a girl!” Jackson repeated.
Matilda twisted his arm around his back and held it there. The agony in his shoulder felt like a bonfire and, worse, he was helpless.
“So, if you come face-to-face with a major-league bad guy who happens to be a girl, you’re going to let her kill you?”
She wrapped her arm around his neck, pushed forward, and slammed him face-first into the hard floor. “I call that a bulldog,” she said proudly as she rose back into the air. She flew around him, circling like a hungry hawk.
“That’s your problem, Braceface. You judge others by what they look like. You’ve spent your life putting people into little categories—nerd, geek, athlete, cheerleader, weakling—and you can’t imagine they might be more than what you think. People are always more than what they appear. You have a lazy mind, kid, and it’s going to get you killed one of these days.”
She turned one of her inhalers on him and a blast of energy hit him in the belly, knocking the wind out of him.
“Fine, you want to fight? Let’s do this!” Jackson cried when he could breathe again. Without looking, Jackson reached behind him and snatched a weapon off the wall. When he saw what it was, he frowned—a bamboo back scratcher. He turned for a new weapon, but the walls flipped over and the weapons were gone.
“Hey!”
“One weapon at a time, chump,” Matilda said, landing in front of him.