“Your father has left for work. He asked me to keep an eye on you,” Mrs. Pressman replied. “I don’t cook, clean, hold hands, kiss boo-boos, change diapers, or read bedtime stories.”
“Mrs. Pressman, I’m eleven years old.”
The old woman lifted her glasses and squinted. “So you are. Your dad gave me this to give to you.”
She handed him a note. His father had scheduled out his day, minute by minute. He wanted Jackson to clean out the garage, organize the basement, clean Butch’s doghouse, rake leaves, and trim the hedges. Apparently, being suspended was not punishment enough. Jackson sighed and got dressed. He’d start with the garage.
But when he opened the garage door, he found something other than old junk inside. All five of his teammates were waiting for him.
“You are a complete loser, bro,” Flinch said.
“Who gets suspended in the fifth grade?” Matilda asked.
“It’s all your fault!” Jackson cried to his angry teammates. “If I wasn’t busy flying off to Egypt, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Well, your inability to manage your life is not going to affect ours. Brand sent us here to train you,” Ruby fumed.
“Train? I’m in deep trouble with my dad. I’ve got a list of chores a mile long, and if they aren’t done by the end of the day, he’s going to put me up for adoption.”
Duncan reached out and took the list of work from Jackson. “We’ll help you with this. Training is more important.”
“What about Mrs. Pressman?” Jackson asked. “My dad hired her to babysit and she’s going to notice if I’m not working.”
“I’ve taken care of her,” Heathcliff said, gesturing to the front yard, where they could see the old woman doing jumping jacks. Her eyes were spacey—Heathcliff had unleashed his teeth on her.
“If she has a heart attack, it’s all your fault,” Jackson said.
Matilda went first, fighting Jackson with a variety of silly weapons she found in the garage, including a bucket, a pogo stick, and some old Hot Wheels race car tracks. In the meantime, the others started on Jackson’s chores. Jackson watched from the garage as Flinch stood over a pile of leaves and clapped his hands. There was a sonic boom and leaves were blasted into the neighbor’s yard.
Despite their long morning together, only Duncan would eat lunch with Jackson.
“I get that I’m not good at this,” Jackson said to the sticky boy. “I get that you don’t trust me ’cause I used to be cool. I also get that I’m not the ideal member for the team. But why do you all hate me so much?”
Duncan blinked in bewilderment. “You truly don’t know?”
Jackson shook his head.
Duncan reached into his pocket and took out a blue sphere. He pushed a button on its side and it began to spin. A moment later Jackson heard Benjamin’s voice.
“What can I help you with, Gluestick?”
“Could you pull up some surveillance tapes of Nathan Hale Elementary?”
“Anything specific?” the computer asked.
“Yes. Show us the file labeled ‘Jackson Jones.’”
There was a strange humming sound and then holograms appeared. This time, instead of a three-dimensional landscape, Jackson saw a square floating before his eyes. A moment later it flickered to life—showing video footage recorded in a busy hallway. Jackson recognized it as the hall where his locker was and quickly spotted himself in the crowd. The video was taken at the height of his popularity.
“You guys have been taping me?” he asked.
“Just watch,” Duncan said.
Suddenly, Flinch walked down the hallway. Jackson watched himself knock the boy’s books out of his hand so that they scattered all over the floor. Brett and the rest of his friends laughed.
Then the image jumped to another day when Jackson gave Duncan a wedgie. The image jumped again, and he saw himself tripping Matilda so that she fell to the floor. Then he saw himself tape a KICK ME sign on the back of Ruby’s jacket. Then he saw himself dumping a soda on Heathcliff’s head. The video went on and on, but it was always the same—Jackson tormenting nerds, his teammates in particular. He stuffed them in lockers, flicked their ears, forced them to kiss his feet, dipped their faces into the drinking fountain, pulled their hair, gave them wet willies, and put them into full nelsons. All the while, he and his stupid friends giggled like idiots.
“Do you see?” Duncan asked. “I have about twenty more hours of this if you don’t get it.”
Jackson was speechless. He didn’t recognize the Jackson in the video.
“They hate you, Jackson, because you’re mean. You think you were popular, you think you were well liked, but you weren’t. You were a bully.”
There was that word again. Bully. Jackson remembered the events in the video clearly, but not the faces of his victims. They all melted into a single, awkward, misfit kid. Teasing nerds had been fun, a joke. He had never once thought of it as bullying.
“We all got our fair share of it,” Duncan continued.
“But you guys are awesome fighters. You could have put me in my place easily.”
“If we fought back, you might have been seriously injured, and it would have blown our covers as spies. But there’s another reason why we took it, Jackson. It’s because we know that what the popular kids have to offer the world is so tiny and unimportant compared to what the nerds will do. The dorks, dweebs, goobers, and spazzes that you picked on are the ones who will grow up to discover the vaccines, write the great novels, push the boundaries of science and technology, and invent things that make people healthier and happier. Nerds change the world. Kids like you and Brett, and that gang of lunatics you called friends—well, you never amount to much. Knowing I have a bright future helps when I’m pulling my underpants off my head.
“I don’t hate you, though I do think you are way too arrogant for your own good. The others, however, hate your guts. I know Ruby resents you because Brand brought you in without discussing it with her. Flinch and Matilda think you don’t have what it takes in the brains department. And Heathcliff, well, he has a special place in his heart for the hate he feels for you.”
“Why?”
“You took particular delight in abusing him. He got the worst of it,” Duncan said.
Jackson watched as the video showed him dragging Heathcliff down the dirty hallway by his feet. Ashamed, Jackson looked across the lawn at his teammates, and for the first time he wasn’t annoyed that they didn’t want to be his friend. He suddenly understood. He didn’t deserve their friendship.
The Hyena sat in a dark corner of the lab with her laptop. She was busy working on her résumé and searching want ads for contract killers. She wasn’t having a lot of luck.
“Mindy, may I have a word?” a voice said behind her. Startled, the Hyena spun around and found Dr. Jigsaw standing over her. Terror swept through her. Had he seen what she was doing? Was she headed for the fire pit?
“I think it’s time to introduce you to Simon,” Dr. Jigsaw continued.
“Simon?” she asked, quickly closing her laptop.
“Follow me,” the doctor said. He led her up a flight of stairs into the glass-walled observation room that overlooked his giant satellite dish. She noticed that the henchmen and scientists below were assembling huge solar panels. Jigsaw pushed a button and an enormous television screen rose up out of the floor. It was as big as a wall. The Hyena rolled her eyes. Villains always had to have such big TVs.
A strange man with a skull mask appeared on the screen. He was the same man she had glimpsed in Jigsaw’s helicopter.
“Hyena, my name is Simon. Tell me about Cairo,” the masked man said.
Jigsaw turned to the Hyena. She stepped forward and nervously cleared her throat. “Um, when I got to Cairo there was a team of … well, they were kids, waiting for me. They were trying to kidnap Dr. Badawi themselves. The odd thing is, they didn’t seem like goons or henchmen. It was like they were trying to protect her.”
“They’re called NERDS. They are quite formidable,” Simon said.
“I’m sorry,” Hyena said. “Did you say they were nerds?”
“Secret agents with incredible technology at their disposal. They are of little concern to us,” Simon said. “Precautions are already being made to help with your next pickup.”
“Next pickup?” the Hyena said. “I got everyone on the list. There is no next pickup.”
“You’re not the only one who screws up, Hyena. It appears Dr. Jigsaw has revealed our plan to an old colleague.”
Jigsaw shuffled uncomfortably. “Someone from my past could cause some problems. It’s a bit of a long shot, but I did the math and there is a five percent probability that he could figure out our plan.”
“That’s a chance I’d rather not take,” Simon said. “Hyena, I believe this is a job best suited for your talents. Find the good doctor’s friend.”
The Hyena sighed. “And kidnap him?”
The man in the skull mask shook his head. “No, my dear. You’re getting a promotion. I want you to kill him.”
Suddenly, the screen faded to black and the odd man was gone, but the room was aglow with the Hyena’s smile.
ALL RIGHT, PAL. I SEE YOU’RE
READY FOR LEVEL 8 CLEARANCE. LET
ME TELL YOU, LEVEL 8 IS THE BEST
LEVEL. IT’S VERY EXCITING. YES,
WHEN I GOT TO LEVEL 8 MY WHOLE
LIFE CHANGED. UNFORTUNATELY,
I CAN’T LET YOU IN. NOPE. SORRY.
CAN’T BE DONE … UNLESS …
BETWEEN ME AND YOU, NO ONE GETS
TO LEVEL 8—BUT ’CAUSE WE ARE
CLOSE FRIENDS I’M GOING TO PULL
SOME STRINGS AND HELP YOU. OF
COURSE, IT WOULD BE EASIER IF YOU
WERE WILLING TO MAKE A LITTLE
DONATION TO MY PERSONAL BANK
ACCOUNT. CONSIDER IT A TIP FOR
SERVICES RENDERED.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN
“FORGET YOU”? YOU STINGY
LITTLE … I’VE BEEN SITTING
HERE WIPING UP YOUR BOOGERS,
SWEAT, AND SALIVA, AND YOU
WON’T EVEN THROW
A LITTLE CASH MY WAY?
ACCESS DENIED!
JERK!
I’M NOT TALKING
TO YOU ANYMORE.
FINE. HERE’S YOUR
LEVEL 8 ACCESS. I HOPE YOU
CHOKE ON IT.
By the end of his suspension, Jackson’s house was immaculate. The gutters had been cleared, the windows washed, and the shrubs pruned into the shapes of wild stallions. Jackson, with the help of Duncan, and the begrudging assistance of Flinch and Matilda, caught up on all his homework. There was even a moment when he was learning about past participles that they had all shared a laugh. He seemed to be breaking the shell that protected most of the team, though Heathcliff and Ruby still refused to speak to him outside of training.
When Jackson stepped back into Nathan Hale Elementary, he was feeling better about his life. The weight on his shoulders didn’t feel so heavy, and he had a renewed determination to succeed not only in his classes, but as a secret agent as well. He had a growing sensation that nothing could get in his way.
He made it three feet when Mr. Dehaven appeared in front of him. “And where do you think you’re going, Mr. Jones?”
“Uh, I was thinking class would be the first stop,” Jackson said.
Dehaven eyed him carefully. “I’ve spoken with your teacher, and we have agreed that you shouldn’t get a break because you were out for three days. So, you have quite a stack of homework to do and a quiz. I’d recommend you pass that quiz, son. It’s worth fifty percent of your grade. Currently, your other fifty percent is a big fat zero.”
Jackson nodded and hurried off to his class.
“Remember, Jones. Bull. Horns!”
Jackson made note of an interesting phenomenon in his class. When he took his mind off his former friends and his plans to regain his popularity, his schoolwork was easier. Crazier still—he was learning a few things.
In the halls he went out of his way to be friendly, especially to the kids he knew he had bullied. Most of them looked suspicious or stunned. Some refused to forgive him, but a few did. He even tracked down Stevie Lazar and helped him remove the crayons from his ears.
Then just as he was filling out his name at the top of the quiz Mr. Dehaven had warned him about, he felt a buzzing inside his nose that made him sneeze. He looked around and saw the rest of the team getting out of their seats. A moment later Heathcliff was putting the teacher into a trance.
“C’mon,” Matilda said as they filed out of the class.
“That test is worth fifty percent of my grade,” Jackson complained as he followed them into the hallway.
The others ignored him as they hurried toward the secret lockers.
“If I don’t take it, I’m going to fail,” he continued. “I’ll have to repeat the fifth grade.”
The team was still ignoring him as they all took their seats at the briefing table. Agent Brand and Ms. Holiday approached.
“It’s good to see you, team,” Ms. Holiday said. She seemed more chipper than ever,
“Yes, good to see you,” Brand mumbled. He flashed a wooden smile, then looked over at the librarian. She nodded in approval.
“What’s up, boss?” Matilda asked.
“I’ll brief you on the School Bus,” the agent said.
“Where are we going?” Flinch asked.
“Los Angeles,” Ms. Holiday said.
“Los Angeles?” Jackson exclaimed. “We were just in Egypt three days ago.”
“Welcome to the world of a secret agent,” Flinch said. “I call shotgun!”
As the lunch lady piloted the School Bus into the stratosphere, Agent Brand and Ms. Holiday began the briefing.
“Team, your destination is the home of Hector Munoz,” Ms. Holiday said.
A blue orb produced a hologram of a chubby man with thick black hair, a wide face, and plump lips. “This is him,” Brand explained. “He’s a theoretical mathematician.”
Jackson had no idea what a theoretical mathematician was, but Duncan squealed and clapped his hands.
“OK, maybe I missed the day when we discussed theoretical math,” Jackson said.
“Or maybe you’re a dummy.” Ruby rolled her eyes and received an angry glare from Ms. Holiday.
“Don’t be afraid to ask a question, Jackson,” Duncan said. “There are no dumb questions. Theoretical math is a field of study in which scientists use equations to determine what is possible, even if it is impractical. For instance, time travel is possible, but the amount of power needed to make a single trip would drain the planet of every last resource. In fact, you’d need at least a hundred more Earths to get the job done.”
“Well, if it’s impractical, why study it at all?” Jackson said.
Duncan seemed confused and Jackson suspected the boy was reexamining his belief about dumb questions. “Well … it’s so we can know.”
“Dr. Munoz wasn’t on the list,” Ruby said. “What does he have to do with all of this?”
“Uh … good observation,” Mr. Brand said. He seemed to stumble over the compliment. “Dr. Munoz was a colleague of one Dr. Felix Jigsaw.”
“The Jigsaw Puzzle King,” Ruby said.
“You’re familiar with the doctor?” Brand asked.
“Isn’t everyone?” the itchy girl asked. “He’s a legend in the world of competitive jigsawing!”
“Competitive jigsawing?” Jackson laughed. The nerds looked at him as if he were a soupy zucchini they found in the bottom of the crisper drawer. “You’re not joking?”
Agent Brand continued. “Glad to know you have heard of him, Pufferfish. Er … you are a valuable member of this group.”
“What’s going on here?” Matilda asked Agent Brand.
“Pardon me?”
“What’s with all the compliments? ‘You are a valuabl
e member of this group.’ You never praise us!”
Agent Brand flashed another look at Ms. Holiday. “It has come to my attention that you are children and maybe I shouldn’t be talking to you like seasoned war veterans. Thus, I’m trying to present a more positive tone.”
“Did you put him up to this?” Matilda asked the librarian.
Ms. Holiday shook her head. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” she lied. Ruby scratched her arm furiously.
Brand scowled. “If we can get back to Jigsaw. He’s an expert on continental shifts in the Earth’s surface. Apparently, he and Dr. Munoz worked on a variety of projects together before Jigsaw lost his mind and had a stay at a mental hospital in Minneapolis. Dr. Munoz approached the FBI when Jigsaw was in treatment. He claimed the man was building a machine that could move continents.”
“No way!” Flinch shouted. “That explains Greenland and Hawaii!”
“Maybe,” Heathcliff said. “Still, that kind of technology is pretty advanced. What tells us Jigsaw is smart enough to do something like that?”
“He’s not,” Brand said. “But when you look at the list of big brains that have been kidnapped recently—experts on geology and advanced power sources, inventors—he might be able to put something together.”
“You think Jigsaw is behind the kidnappings?” Ruby asked.
Brand nodded. “And I think we’ve already met someone who is helping him.”
The hologram changed again. Jackson saw a three-dimensional drawing of the blonde kidnapper he had come face-to-face with in Cairo. He was stunned by the details his teammates had re-created. It looked just like her, down to her dazzling green eyes. She was so pretty. Why did she have to be a bad guy?
NERDS: National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society Page 12