Attack of the BULLIES

by Michael Buckley

  “Um …,” Ruby said, at a loss for words to describe what she was seeing.

  “A broken heart can do strange things to a man,” the principal explained. “Brand took Lisa’s betrayal particularly hard. He had some loss when he was a kid—his brother was killed in the air force, and he’d built a lot of walls around himself. I suspect the librarian was chipping away at them before she went nuts.”

  “I don’t think Ms. Holiday was the only one to go nuts,” Ruby said as another note soured the air.

  They walked across the lawn, past the house, and onto the dock, where they stood waiting for Brand’s atrocious concert to end. When the last jagged note was played, the former hero set his instrument down on his lap as if its weight was more than he could bear.

  “How did you find me?” he said without turning to face them.

  “We’re spies,” Ruby said. “But I suspect we could have just asked who was out here torturing a goose.”

  Brand growled and turned in his chair. “The oboe is the dignified gentleman of the woodwind instruments!”

  His face was thin and covered in a long, ratty beard filled with flecks of food and dead leaves, and his once perfectly coiffed hair was long and greasy. He wore a filthy shirt spattered with stains, and he smelled like an old catcher’s mitt left out in the rain.

  “I’m trying to teach myself to play,” Brand said. “It’s not something you pick up overnight.”

  “How long have you been trying to teach yourself?” the principal asked.

  “On and off? Ten years.”

  Brand picked up his instrument and blasted another ragged note into the air. Somewhere, a bear roared angrily.

  “We need to talk to you,” Ruby said.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “To whatever you want to ask,” he said.

  “Shouldn’t you let us ask the question first?” the principal said.

  “No.”

  Ruby scratched her belly. She was allergic to stubbornness.

  “Alex, we are barely surviving,” the principal said. “Savage is about to tell the president our secrets, the kids haven’t been in a classroom in months, and your ex-girlfriend is kicking our behinds. Every day, five twelve-year-old kids have to stop another end-of-the-world scenario. They’ve been depending on luck more than they should, and yesterday the luck ran out. Lisa kidnapped the president’s daughter.”

  “She’ll bring Tessa back once she realizes what a brat she is. Serves her right.”

  “What do I do about Savage?” the principal asked.

  “Prepare for the worst.”

  “He’d listen to you.”

  “I said no.”

  Ruby stepped forward. “So you’ll let old bullet-head tell the government about us? You know what that means, right?”

  “If they come, run,” Brand said. “Destroy the Playground. The self-destruct password is ‘Maxwell Smart.’”

  “You’re also turning your back on Ms. Holiday!”

  Brand turned to face Ruby. His eyes were full of anguish.

  “Ms. Holiday is sick,” Ruby said, her voice shaking. “She must still be infected with the villain virus, and you walked away from her. She needs your help!”

  Brand shook his head. “Ms. Holiday is not suffering from any virus. She was spying on us.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Yes, it is, Ruby,” Brand said. “When she went rogue, I wanted to believe that she was sick or being manipulated. But we searched her house. We found fifteen different passports, seven different birth certificates, and detailed notes on the Playground, you kids, and me. The Lisa Holiday we know is really Viktoriya Deprankova of Novosibirsk, Siberia. She’s the daughter of exiled political activists. When she was fifteen, she robbed her parents, stole a car, and drove it cross-country with a professional thug named Lars Corsica. They got married, but when they were arrested for the stolen car, Lars told the Russian police his bride was responsible for a dozen crimes he had actually committed. Viktoriya was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. After the verdict, she was approached by a member of the Russian secret service, who offered her a way out of jail—she could become a spy.”

  “You’re saying she was a double agent?” Ruby said.

  “They trained her to be one of us. She learned English, went to college, was even a cheerleader, and then a librarian—as American as apple pie.”

  “But I thought we were getting along with the Russians,” Ruby said.

  “We are, but old habits die hard,” the principal said. “I’m sure we have deep-cover spies in their country, too.”

  “Regardless, she wasn’t real and neither was our relationship,” Brand said. “Everything was a lie and I was too stupid to see it. That’s why I can’t help you. I can’t trust my instincts anymore.”

  “Did you know this?” Ruby asked the principal.

  The principal nodded.

  “OK, so she’s a bad guy,” Ruby said. “That’s another good reason to help us. You can’t just run off to some cabin and grow a hipster beard and go whah! whah! whah! on your stupid oboe!”

  “I’m not going to be lectured by someone whose biggest problem is whether her mom is going to get her to soccer practice on time.”

  Brand turned back to the lake. Ruby couldn’t believe it, but the bravest man she had ever known had thrown in the towel.

  Frustrated, she marched back to the Jeep.

  “Well, that’s that,” the principal said when he got into the driver’s seat. He started the engine and drove back down the overgrown driveway.

  On the drive back, Ruby gazed out at the countryside and rubbed her swollen feet. She was allergic to disappointment.

  Tessa followed Miss Information through the halls of her huge underground lair until they reached a thick steel door labeled UPGRADE ROOM. She watched her new boss place her hands on a green glass screen next to the door. The glass flashed, and a moment later the door slid open.

  The room was completely empty except for a silver podium.

  “What’s this thing?” Tessa asked.

  “This is where the magic happens, and that’s the magic wand,” Miss Information said.

  She pressed a blue button on the podium. Red laser lights danced across the walls and swarmed over Tessa’s body like bees on a flower.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Miss Information grinned. “You’re being scanned for your biggest strength.”

  “STRENGTH DETECTED SUBJECT IS TWO-FACED,” a voice said.

  “Hey!” Tessa cried. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  The robotic voice ignored her. “SUBJECT TAKES GREAT PLEASURE IN DECEPTION SUBJECT IS A BACKSTABBER SUBJECT IS A CHAMELEON SUBJECT NEEDS MORE THAN ONE FACE SUBJECT NEEDS MANY FACES PREPARE FOR UPGRADE.”

  “Here we go,” Miss Information said. “I’m going to step out and monitor from the hall.”

  “Wait! I—”

  But the woman was already through the door.

  An observation panel opened in the wall, and Tessa could see her new boss in her bizarre mask waving to her like Tessa was about to ride her first roller coaster.

  “INITIATE UPGRADE?”

  The question repeated itself over and over, but Tessa could not answer.

  “If you want to do this, you need to say the word begin,” Ms. Holiday instructed. Her voice came through a speaker mounted on the wall.

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Tessa!” Miss Information said. “This is going to help you get your daddy back.”

  “INITIATE UPGRADE?”

  The woman could be a nutcase. Or this could be an elaborate revenge from the director of the CIA; he was still mad about that wedgie she gave him. But … what if this was real? What if this woman was really offering Tessa her greatest wish? She might look like a fool later, but it was worth the risk.

  “Yes, begin!” Tessa cried.

  Tubes attached to dozens
of fearsome tools dropped from the ceiling and wrapped themselves around her body. She was yanked off the floor and held aloft like a fly caught in a spiderweb.

  “Um, is this normal?” Tessa asked.

  Miss Information gave her a thumbs-up through the window.

  Several large hypodermic needles sprung from the ends of the tubes, which moved dangerously close to Tessa’s neck. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do this!” she said.

  “Ruby, please, calm down. This will be over soon, and afterwards we’ll go out for frozen yogurt. Do you like frozen yogurt? What a silly question. Everyone loves frozen yogurt!”

  “My name is Tessa,” she shouted.

  “Of course it is,” Miss Information said. She seemed dazed. “What did I just call you?”

  “Ruby,” Tessa said.

  The woman clamped her hands on her head and buckled over as if hit with the worst headache anyone had ever experienced. Tessa watched her fall to her knees and cry out.

  One of the needles went into the side of Tessa’s temple, and she felt like her head was on fire. As the room turned black, she heard her new boss say, “This part might hurt a little. Just keep thinking about that yogurt, sweetheart.”

  Tessa didn’t know how long she’d been asleep—a day? Maybe two? All she knew was that when she woke up, she felt different. Her skin felt tingly and alive. It was as if every pore was suddenly aware of its own existence. It felt very good, but it scared her, too. What had that machine done to her?

  Miss Information barged into the room. “Wakey, wakey! Let’s give these superpowers a test-drive!” she said.

  Tessa sat up and narrowed her eyes at the woman. Who was behind that mask? What did this woman really look like? What was she hiding?

  Miss Information pulled Tessa to her feet and dragged her to a mirror. “Let’s see you do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “The thing! The power! With your face!”

  “I don’t know what that machine did to me, and I certainly don’t know how to do anything,” Tessa snapped.

  “Geez, do I have to do everything around here?” Miss Information cried. With lightning-fast hands, she reached over and pulled on Tessa’s nose.

  “Hey!” Tessa cried. “What are you, seven years old? Go play Got Your Nose with someone else!”

  Miss Information pointed at the mirror. “Look.”

  Tessa screamed. Loudly. Her nose was now where her chin used to be!

  “Crazy, huh?” Miss Information said. She stood over Tessa’s shoulder, marveling at the grotesque change. “I read the data on your nanobytes. Those little robots let you manipulate your face anyway you want. You can actually sculpt your skin to look like other people, too. Try it!”

  “Who?”

  “Who cares? Just pick someone!”

  Tessa closed her eyes and thought about the people in her life. Then her hands went to work, twisting and turning her features as if they were Play-Doh. Her nose, lips, skin—even her eyeballs—were all soft and pliable, and, oddly enough, all the pulling and twisting didn’t hurt. When she was done, she took a step back and looked in the mirror. Her math teacher, Mr. Donaldson, stared back at her. His beady eyes and scowling mouth were perfect matches. She even duplicated his famous curled lip of contempt and the single ever-present nose hair that waved like a flag from his right nostril.

  She screamed again.

  “That’s amazing, Tessa!” Ms. Holiday said. “Try someone else.”

  She did as she was told, filled with both dread and curiosity. In quick succession she turned herself into Secret Service Agent Dan Holbrooke, Holly the White House chef, and even George Washington from the portrait that hung in the Oval Office. Her nanobytes were incredible. Not only had they turned her face into clay, they allowed her to adapt her eye color, skin tone, and even hair color.

  Miss Information clapped happily. “With a little practice you should be able to do your whole body. You can change your height and weight—why, you might even be able to reproduce smells.”

  A few quick twists and Tessa had her old face back. “Um, I’m going to pass.”

  “What? Best power ever!” Miss Information cried.

  “It’s disgusting. I want something else.”

  “The upgrade machine takes your greatest strength and makes it stronger. This is perfect for you! Don’t tell me you wanted to fly or something dumb like that?”

  “Flying wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “Yeah, freezing to death while bugs fly into your mouth,” the woman said. “That’s horrible. Any kid with an egg can knock you out of the sky. Tessa, with your face you can be anyone you want to be. Think of the trouble you can cause! You could rob a bank by pretending to be the branch manager. You could steal a jet by changing your face to look like the pilot!”

  “How is this going to get my dad’s attention?”

  “Imagine what you could do if you were the president of the United States.”

  Tessa looked in the mirror and twisted her features until she looked just like her father. A million naughty ideas floated into her head. She could stop him from being reelected, and then she’d have him all to herself.

  “I see you’re getting it,” Miss Information said, giggling. She clamped a bracelet onto Tessa’s wrist and snapped it closed. “While you were out I had the science team build this hologram machine. It will project any set of clothes you can imagine onto your body and totally help sell your transformations. Now, you said you wanted to get your dad’s attention, right? Let’s get started.”

  “Now?”

  “There’s no time like the present,” Miss Information said as she led Tessa out of her room and through a maze of hallways. They emerged into a space as big as a private plane hangar, but there were no planes parked inside, just a rusty yellow school bus. Standing in front of it was her team—the BULLIES. She looked them up and down and couldn’t help frowning. These kids were the biggest bunch of misfits she’d ever seen.

  “Ta-da!” Miss Information said. “I call it ‘The School Bus.’”

  “It is a school bus,” Tessa said.

  “Not exactly,” Miss Information replied. She clicked a button on her key chain and the wheels folded upward replaced by rockets. Soon, the ancient bucket of rust was hovering five feet off the ground.

  Tessa shrugged. “It’s got potential.”

  “There’s more! BULLIES, hop on board,” Miss Information said.

  The children boarded the bus one by one. A strange man sat behind the steering wheel. He was a mountain of muscles with crazy white hair, a wide chin, a dead eye, and a silver hook for a hand. He was also wearing white orthopedic shoes and a smock with bright blue flowers on it.

  “Kids, this is the lunch lady.”

  “Lunch lady? He’s a bus driver wearing a muumuu,” Loudmouth shouted.

  “He’s not a lady, either,” Funk said.

  “Actually, my name is the Antagonist, but—”

  “YOU’RE THE LUNCH LADY!” Miss Information roared. “DON’T MAKE ME REGRET BREAKING YOU OUT OF FEDERAL PRISON, PAL. I CAN PUT YOU BACK THERE IN A FLASH. YOU GOT IT?”

  The man with the hook lowered his head and nodded. “I got it,” he said quietly.

  Tessa watched the woman’s outburst with concern. This was the second unpredictable rant she’d witnessed. Miss Information was obviously mentally ill—people didn’t wear masks with skulls on them because they were healthy—but just how crazy was she? A moment later she found out. Her new boss sat in a center seat next to a scarecrow wearing a black tuxedo. She cuddled up to it as if it were her boyfriend.

  “This is so awkward,” Miss Information said in a conspiratorial tone.

  “What?” Tessa said, trying to pretend everything was fine.

  “The lunch lady and I used to be engaged. That’s before I met Alex here,” she said, caressing the straw man’s hay-filled face.

  “Where to?” the lunch lady shouted.

  “We’re going to Tes
sa’s house—1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You might have heard of it. It’s called the White House.”

  Tessa swallowed hard. Her greatest wishes were about to come true, and she owed it all to a lunatic in a mask smooching a scarecrow. She suddenly felt very nauseous.

  When Ruby and the principal got back to school, they were rushed on board the School Bus. The platform the superjet was resting upon was already rising through the gym floor before either of them was given a clue as to the nature of the emergency.

  “Does anyone want to tell me where we’re going?” the principal said as the rocket shot through the open ceiling. “So I know where to steer this thing?”

  “Put in coordinates for Lake Mead, Nevada,” Matilda said. “We’re going to the Hoover Dam. And it wouldn’t hurt to floor it.”

  “What’s happening at the Hoover Dam?” Ruby asked.

  “Robot destruction!” Flinch bellowed while beating on his chest.

  “I suppose we can blame them on Miss Information?” Ruby asked.

  “Take a look for yourself. Our surveillance team caught this fifteen minutes ago,” Duncan said. He typed something on the mission deck keyboard, and in the monitors Ruby saw men unloading heavy wooden crates from a truck parked on a dusty road near a lake. When they opened one of the crates, something from a science fiction movie hopped out. It was about the size of a sheepdog but strutted around on two chicken-like hind legs. Its head was oval and black with a white skull pattern. It shrieked, flew twenty feet into the air on metallic wings, then fell back to the ground with a thud.

  “Chickenbots,” Duncan said. “There’s ten of them, and they’re marching toward the dam.”

  “Three minutes, kids,” the principal shouted from the cockpit.

  “You better suit up,” Duncan said to Ruby. He handed her a duffle bag full of black clothing.

  Matilda opened the rocket’s hatch and the wind blasted into the cabin.