Enemy Spy

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Enemy Spy Page 7

by Wendelin Van Draanen

“Why doesn't he just say that?”

  I shrugged. “Good question.”

  “What's the Shredderman connection?”Harry Kane called out.

  The chief sighed. “Shredderman is the one who brought the money-for-secrets situation to our attention. At first we thought he was assisting law enforcement. We now believe he—or she, or they —may be someone with an axe to grind. Someone who was once part of the spy ring and is now on the outs.”

  “You're crazy!”I shouted.

  People nearby stared at me.

  Oops!

  Bubba whispered, “Stay cool, dude, remember?”

  But how could they think that? How could they possibly think that?

  The chief went on. “Regardless, our three detainees will either be released if they answer questions to the FBI's satisfaction or be arrested on charges of conspiracy and obstruction of justice.”

  Arrested for conspiracy!

  Obstruction of justice!

  No!

  “No, no, no, no!”I didn't even know I was shouting it out loud. Bubba tried to hold me back, but I twisted free and pushed through the crowd. These were my parents! My teacher! They were the best friends I'd ever had.

  How could I let them be arrested for obstruction of justice ?

  They weren't answering questions because they were protecting my secret identity! I could see them now, under a hot, bare bulb, being grilled by the FBI! Being tortured with questions the wouldn't answer because of me! All because I'd been so stubborn about fighting for truth and justice.

  Well, what kind of truth and justice was this ?

  They were going to go to jail because of me!

  “You're wrong!”I shouted. I ducked under the yellow CAUTION tape and cried, “You're com-pletely wrong!”

  Chief Yardland said something about removing me from the area, but Sarge stepped in and said, “It's okay, Chief. This is the Byrds' son. He's just upset.”

  “I am not just upset!”I shouted.

  Boy, did I ever sound upset!

  But I kept right on shouting. “They're not spies! They don't have an axe to grind! They didn't have anything to do with any of this!”

  The chief was looking at me like he felt so, so sorry for me. Like I was just a poor little kid who didn't understand how the real world worked.

  I looked around at the crowd.

  Everyone was thinking the same thing as Chief Yardland: Poor kid… his parents are spies.

  “They're not spies, and they're not Shredder-man!”I looked at the crowd. At all the cameras aimed my way. At all the people staring at me. At the kids from my school and the teachers and my principal.

  Sarge put his arm around my shoulders and tried to pull me aside, saying, “Now, Nolan…”

  I twisted away from him and shouted, “I know for a fact they're not spies! And I know for a fact they're not Shredderman! I know because…”

  The crowd fell quiet.

  I could hear the breeze sweep through tree branches.

  Pine needles seemed to fall in slow motion.

  Everything seemed a little fuzzy.

  Soft.

  “Because… ?”Sarge prompted.

  I took a deep breath, and slowly everything came into focus.

  So I turned to face the crowd and said it loud.

  Said it strong!

  “I know, because I'm Shredderman!”

  Chapter 20

  Shred-der-man!

  The crowd didn't gasp.

  There wasn't even a moment of stunned silence.

  No, people giggled.

  And groaned.

  And said, “Oh, poor kid.”

  “But I am,” I shouted. I swung my backpack off. “And I can prove it!”

  People were rolling their eyes.

  Tisking their tongues!

  The chief was trying to get Sarge to drag me away, but I whipped out my digital camera and scanned back through the pictures I'd taken of the spies and the phony boulder.

  “Look!”I said to Sarge. “This is proof! Who else would have these shots?”

  Sarge's jaw dropped as I thumbed through the pictures. “Scott!”he said to the chief. “Look at these!”

  When Chief Yardland was hanging over my shoulder, too, I said, “The FBI traced Shred-derman to my house, but they took the wrong

  computer. Everything's on my computer. It's in my bedroom.”

  People were starting to whisper.

  “My parents and Mr. Green are trying to pro-tect me, that's all. They don't have anything to do with this! Actually, they're pretty mad about it! And if you still don't believe me, I can tell you what's in those classified documents! Not what they mean or anything, but they're twelve pages of calculations and diagrams of—”

  “Enough!”Chief Yardland said. “I believe you!”

  Now everyone was talking a hundred miles an hour! The crowd sounded like a giant computer, buzzing for an Internet connection.

  Dr. Voss had moved to the front of the crowd. She yelled, “And Mr. Green's the Bouncer, isn't he? I knew it all along!”

  I froze. Dr. Voss would fire him!

  But before I could figure out what to say, Bubba Bixby came tripping over the CAUTION tape, yelling, “Mr. Green's not the Bouncer! I am!”

  “You?” Dr. Voss looked from Bubba to me, and back again.

  I practically laughed out loud.

  I didn't have to explain anything!

  Or lie!

  It was the truth!

  And boy, did it seem just.

  “But that doesn't make any sense,” Dr. Voss cried. “You hate each other!”

  “Well,” I said, putting my hand on my new sidekick's shoulder. “The truth is that Bubba here is the Bouncer.”

  Bubba squared his shoulders.

  He stuck his chin forward a little.

  Then he cleared his throat and said, “I was only involved peripherally with what transpired —a fact I didn't want to disclose in this bucolic setting— but it's true.”He made a muscleman pose with his arms and cried, “I am the Bouncer!”

  The kids from school all dropped their jaws. They were in total shock over everything!

  Except for Trinity. She was bouncing up and down, clapping like crazy. She saw me looking her way and blew me a kiss.

  A kiss.

  Do superheroes blush?

  This one sure did!

  How embarrassing!

  Then the questions started flying at us: “What's the kid's name?”“How old are you, son?”“Where do you go to school?”“What gave you the idea for Shredderman?”“Did your parents have any idea you were breaking up a spy ring?”“What if they don't catch the other spy?”“Are you afraid for your life?”

  The chief was studying one of the images on my camera. “Look here!”he said to Sarge. “I think we can pull a license plate off of this one!”He headed back to the station house with my cam-era, calling, “Get the kid inside! We've got work to do!”

  Sarge stepped up to the podium and said, “I'm sorry, but obviously things are developing at a very rapid rate. We'll keep you apprised as things unfold, and I'm sure Nolan will be happy to tell you more about his escapades as Shredderman when the dust settles.”He turned to me and grinned, “Isn't that right, Shredderman?”

  I said, “Sure,”then stepped closer to the micro-phones and pointed to Chatty Adams. “Except for her. I'm not going to talk to her.”

  Some people in the crowd snickered. I heard one say, “He's smart, all right.”

  I fished the two battery packs out of my backpack and looked right at Chatty. “Missing these?”

  She let out a gargly scream, and Roy and her cameraman had to hold her back.

  I tossed the batteries on the ground and said, “Next time you think you can call someone a nerd, a geek, a fatso, a brat, or a wannabe Barbie and get away with it, remember the kids from Cedar Valley.”

  “I didn't call them those names!”she cried, looking around. “I swear, I didn't!”

  Sar
ge led me away from the microphones, but we'd only gone a few steps toward the station door when I heard something amazing.

  It started with one voice. A voice I'd recognize anywhere.

  Bubba Bixby's.

  Then other kids chimed in.

  Then adults!

  It was getting louder… and louder… and louder!

  By the time Sarge and I hit the station door, the whole crowd seemed to be chanting it.

  “Shred-der-man! Shred-der-man! Shred-der-man!”

  I stood there for a second and just listened.

  It was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.

  Chapter 21

  Shredderman Lives!

  They set my mom and dad and Mr. Green free, and boy, were they relieved! And when I told Mr. Green about Bubba and Dr. Voss, he about died laughing. “So she doesn't know?”he finally asked.

  “Nope. And we're not telling.”

  “You and Bubba.”He chuckled. “Who'd have guessed.”

  I laughed, too. “Not me, that's for sure!”

  When we were finally done answering ques-tions for the police and the FBI, all the reporters wanted to ask me questions. Dad told me I should give Harry Kane first shot at an interview, so that's what I did.

  After all, he'd been pretty nice to us kids.

  Of course, my secret identity was shot, but with the news stations talking about the spy ring and Shredderman, I figured I could still put my site to some use.

  First I posted all the pictures I had of the spy guy, with a caption:

  IF YOU SEE THIS MAN, CALL THE FBI. HE'S AN

  ENEMY SPY!

  I also put up the movie clip I'd taken of Chatty Adams calling us names.

  Thought she could deny it, huh?

  Ha!

  I sent an e-mail with the Shredderman link to an executive at her network, and wrote:

  This is why your station didn't get the story.

  Yours in Truth and Justice,

  Shredderman

  We haven't seen Chatty Adams on the air since.

  But even though I still had the site, it wasn't like there really was a Shredderman anymore.

  Shredderman was… over.

  I didn't really miss it at first. I was too busy! The FBI came over and wiped the secret docu-ment scans out of my computer.

  FBI guys are quick on the computer. Wow!

  Then they kept someone posted at our house because they thought the spy guy might come looking for me.

  But two days later, a fourth-grade girl spotted the spy guy at a gas station in New Mexico. She'd recognized him from pictures she'd seen on my Web site and called the FBI!

  How cool is that!

  But mostly I didn't miss having a secret identity because people at school seemed to like my real identity. Kids greeted me with, “Hi, Nolan,”and “Hey, Shredderman,”and “Dude, you rock!”Everyone was saying how cool I was!

  Mom worried that kids were just being nice to me because I was now an official celebrity, but I could tell which ones were kissing up to me and which ones were finally just seeing me for me.

  I'm no dummy!

  So for the first time in my life, I had people to hang around with at school. People to do assign-ments with. People to eat lunch with!

  Having friends is fun.

  But after about a week it started to sink in— Shredderman was toast.

  History.

  I'd never be able to wear the mask again.

  Mom told me I'd find other ways to fight for truth and justice, but boy, doing it as Shredder-man had been so exciting! It made me sad to think that it was over.

  Then, one day after school, I was clicking through my site, thinking that it was really time to tear it all down, when my speakers chimed.

  I had e-mail.

  I clicked on the in-box tab.

  It was a message from Shredderman2.

  At first I was confused. Had I accidentally sent myself an e-mail? I opened it and read:

  Yo, Shredderman! You've been an inspiration,

  man! Check out my site!

  Shredderman2.com

  Yours in Truth and Justice,

  Shredderman2

  I couldn't believe my eyes.

  Shredderman-Two ?

  Cool!

  I clicked on the site. There were only a few pages, but still, it was awesome! The guy had caught someone selling cigarettes in his school's bathroom. Now their dirty deeds were posted on the World Wide Web.

  Oh, yeah!

  I wrote him back right away—“Shred on, ShreddermanH Awesome!” —but just as I sent the message, my speakers chimed again.

  More mail.

  I blinked at my screen. The new message was from Shredderdude.

  Shredderdude? Cool!

  Over the next few weeks, I got messages from kids shredding on bad guys all over the globe! A kid in England was ShreddermanUK. Someone in Australia was ShredderAussie. There was a ShreddermanNY, a SeñorShredder, and then

  Shredderman,3 and 4, and 5, and 6 … the numbers kept going up!

  Girls got into it, too. There were Shreddergirls and Shredderchicks and Shredderbabes … that was kind of embarrassing, but they all wanted the same thing: to help fight for truth and justice.

  They also wanted information!

  How did I get such close-up shots?

  How did I convert my backpack?

  What kind of camera did I use?

  So I told them everything I could. I gave them ideas! Advice! I told them about my adventures!

  And they told me what they were up to, and why!

  I felt like I was helping shred on bad guys all over the world!

  Way back when no one knew my secret identity, Mr. Green told our class that the beauty of Shredderman was that he could be any one. He could be the person next to you, the person across the room from you, the person at your bus stop… anyone.

  And now I know that what he said is true. Shredderman used to be me, but now it's kids I've

  never met, all over the globe! And who knows? Maybe things will come full circle and the next Shredderman will appear at my school.

  Or yours!

  As long as there are kids who are willing to fight for truth and justice, it'll never be curtains for Shredderman.

  So boot up your computer!

  Strap on the mask!

  Inside all of us, Shredderman lives!

  Published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children's Books

  a division of Random House, Inc., New York

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen

  property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed”to the publisher and neither the author

  nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Text copyright © 2005 by Wendelin Van Draanen Parsons

  Illustrations copyright © 2005 by Brian Biggs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

  or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

  or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission

  of the publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address

  Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers.

  Yearling and the jumping horse design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools,

  visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  eISBN: 978-0-307-55966-1

  v3.0

 

 

 
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