Attack of the BULLIES
Page 18
“I’m going to order everything on the room service menu,” Cousin Imogen said.
“Don’t go,” Ruby said.
“Huh?” her parents said simultaneously.
“I want you to stay,” Ruby said.
“But sweetie, you’re gonna have to sleep on top of the dryer,” Grandma Rose said.
“No place I’d rather be. You’re my family. As much as you fight, it’s a miracle we can all stand to be in the same room together. I want that miracle for this holiday.”
“I call the bathtub!” said Grandma Tina.
That night, when everyone had found a space on the floor to sleep, Ruby caught the news. The lead story was that President Lipton had announced that he wasn’t going to run for a second term. They cut to a press conference with him and his family. Tessa stood next to her mom, smiling.
“Being the president of this great nation has been a wonderful experience and a huge responsibility. I think we’ve gotten a lot done in the past three years, but that work has come at the expense of my family. Someone told me once that family has to come first, and she was right. So tonight I’m announcing that I will not seek a second term. I always wanted to be the president. I dreamed of serving this country. I imagined it was the best job in the world, but I already had the best job in the world.”
Lipton took his wife and daughter in his arms and hugged them both as reporters charged forward with cameras and questions.
Ruby smiled. She and her team would have to keep a close eye on Tessa. She had upgrades and a nuclear-powered time machine, but Ruby hoped that the soon-to-be former First Daughter would no longer need it—or her second face.
The next day, Heathcliff and Jackson walked to Heathcliff ’s parents’ house.
“What if it doesn’t work?” he asked. “The upgrades didn’t exactly tell me how the nanobytes would get my family back.”
“Then they’ll just think you’re some weird kid, and we’ll go back to the drawing board,” Jackson said. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
He shook his head.
“All right, Agent Hodges, good luck.”
“‘Agent’?”
“Ruby told me to tell you. She’s going to need all the help she can get managing all the new recruits,” he said. “Now get going. Oh, and good luck, buddy.”
Heathcliff smiled. “Thanks … buddy.”
He raced up the sidewalk and threw open the front door.
“Mom! Dad!” he cried.
His mother was the first to appear. “Who in heavens are you?”
“Mom, it’s me—Heathcliff. I’m home!”
“Thomas! Thomas, there’s a strange kid breaking into our house,” she cried.
Thomas came into view. He had a golf club in his hands and he was holding it threateningly. “Get out of our house!”
“Dad! Don’t you know me?” Heathcliff asked.
“I’m calling the police,” his mother said. She took out her phone and called 911. “If you don’t want any more trouble, I’d leave right now.”
Had the machine fooled him? Was it one of those super-dumb lessons he was supposed to learn? Like at the end of a book, when the fairy appears and tells him he had all the power he ever needed inside of him. That would be pretty lame, and he’d end up getting arrested.
“There’s the siren,” his father said.
Heathcliff panicked. They were going to take him away and his family would never know who he was. No! He couldn’t let it end like that. They might not know him, but he needed them to know he was sorry for all the things he had done and that they were great parents and that all his mistakes had nothing to do with them. He needed them to know that their boy loved them dearly.
So he gave them a hug. His mom resisted at first, and his dad tried to shove him off, but Heathcliff hung on. He held the hug as long as possible.
He was still hugging them when the police came. They pulled him away and dragged him out to their car. They locked him in the backseat and went inside to talk to his parents. He was in big trouble, but he didn’t care. Those hugs had felt good. He’d do it all over again in a second. Whatever they did to him, he would have those hugs.
A police officer returned with his parents in tow. He opened the car door and peered inside.
“Kid, get out of the car.”
Heathcliff was confused but did as he was told. “Officer, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare these people. I just—”
“Heathcliff, shouldn’t you be in school?” his mother asked.
“You called me Heathcliff!”
“Of course she did. That’s your name,” his father replied. “Are you feeling OK, son?”
“You called me ‘son’!”
“Folks, what is going on?” the policeman asked. “I was called here for a breaking and entering.”
“You must have the wrong house, officer,” his mother said. “This is our son. He’s in the sixth grade at Knowlton Middle School—though we have no idea why he’s not there.”
“I just missed you two. I wanted to come home,” he said, and then he hugged them again.
Agent Brand stood in the teeth-chattering air outside a gas station in Novosibirsk, Siberia. A black car pulled up. He set down his oboe and eyed the car closely.
It was them.
He stood behind a trash barrel and waited. A tough, grizzled gangster got out of the car. Lars Corsica. Then the passenger-side door opened and a young woman stepped out. She was probably seventeen—just a kid, but blond and beautiful. It was her. He’d recognize that smile anywhere.
“First we get gas,” Lars grunted in Russian. “Then we get married.”
“Married?” the girl asked. There was uncertainty in her voice.
“Unless you want to go back home to your abusive parents?”
She shook her head.
“Then wait in the car.”
The girl did as she was told, and Lars approached the gas station.
“Excuse me,” Brand said in perfect Russian. “But could you tell me the time?”
Lars frowned and looked down at his watch. “Half past two.”
“Then I’m right on time,” Brand said as his fist caught the goon in the jaw. Lars fell over in the snow and lay very still. Brand bent down and took the car keys and the man’s wallet, then hobbled over to the black sedan. He finished pumping the gas and got into the driver’s seat next to the girl.
“Who are you?”
Brand smiled. “That’s not important. What’s important is that you know who you are. Your name is Viktoriya Deprankova, though there will be a time when people will know you by another name. That man out there—the one you’re going to marry—he’s going to steer you in a very ugly direction. I’m here to steer you the other way.”
“Did my father send you?”
“No, I came because I care about you. A lot of people care about you.”
“Are you crazy? I don’t even know you.”
Brand handed her the keys and got out of the car. “You will.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“’Cause you’re my holiday.” He pointed west. “Drive down that road.”
“Where will it take me?”
“Hopefully, America,” he said.
Brand could tell the girl wasn’t sure what to do, but after a moment she slid behind the wheel, rolled up the window, and drove off, leaving Lars behind.
Brand picked up his oboe and slipped it into his jacket. Then he went around the side of the gas station to a multicolored ball pit. He hopped inside and sank to the bottom, hoping that he had caused a ripple big enough to change the girl’s life.
A second later he was in Marty Mozzarella’s during a busy lunch rush. There were kids everywhere, and they stared as he floundered to get out of the ball pit.
“That’s supposed to be for children, you know,” a teenager in a giant mouse suit complained.
Brand growled, yanked the cable out of the pit, disconnected the control
panel, and limped out of the restaurant.
The walk to Thomas Knowlton Middle School was a long one, but he completely forgot about his sore feet when he saw it. Hurriedly, he pushed the front door open and walked down the empty halls to a supply closet, where he found his familiar janitor’s uniform. He pulled it on over his beat-up tuxedo then pressed the button that opened the tunnel to the Playground. A second later he dropped a mile into the earth.
The Playground looked like it always had. All the same faces were busy working on gadgets. Duncan and Flinch were lounging in their mission chairs while Jackson told them a joke, and Matilda was buzzing overhead, her inhalers blasting. Ruby was viewing a map of the world. The lunch lady, in his smock and hairnet, smiled and gave Brand a friendly wave.
“Look who’s back!” Jackson shouted.
“You are seriously late for a mission update,” Matilda said.
Brand smiled. “One of you is going to have to fill me in on what I missed.”
“I can help you with that,” Ruby said. “But first we have something very important to tell you.”
Brand waved her off. “It can wait. Is she here?”
“Who?”
Brand’s heart sank. “Never mind.”
“Oh, you mean the new librarian?” Ruby said with a grin.
“Did someone call me?” came a voice. It had a thick Russian accent, but he would know it anywhere.
“Lisa,” he said.
Benjamin floated between them. “Director, this is Agent Viktoriya Deprankova. She’s just been assigned to the school. Her cover for the parents will be that of the school’s librarian and media specialist.”
He couldn’t help but smile, and she smiled back at him.
“I made cookies,” the woman said, offering him a plate of what looked like chocolate chip. Brand hesitantly took one.
One bite and he was sure he had cracked all his teeth. Yes, she was back.
Suddenly, an alert started blaring. Screens dropped from the ceiling and a dozen scientists raced to join the group.
“Oh, boy, looks like we’ve got trouble again. Baron von Baron has let loose his army of bionic ferrets. They’re attacking the Taj Mahal,” Duncan said.
“Scramble the team, Benjamin,” Agent Brand said.
“Which team?” Heathcliff asked. He entered the room wearing a white lab coat and huge goggles.
“What do you mean, which team?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, boss,” Ruby said. “We’ve got some new recruits.”
Suddenly, hundreds of children walked into the control room. They saluted him and said, “Agents reporting for duty” in unison.
“I’m having a great time organizing them. I’ll have a binder for you to look at when we get back. It’s completely color-coded,” Ruby said.
Brand smiled. “All right. It’s time to get to work, NERDS. Let’s go beat up some bad guys.”
THERE WILL BE DAYS WHEN LIFE SEEMS
HARD, WHEN THE BULLIES CORNER YOU OR
HURT YOUR HEART, BUT THOSE DAYS WON’T
LAST. THEY CAN’T LAST. SOME DAY SOON
THE WORLD WILL LOOK FRESH AND FULL
OF POSSIBILITIES AND YOUR DAYS
OF BEING PICKED ON WILL END—
JUST LIKE THIS STORY. AND THAT,
MY FRIENDS, IS WHEN YOUR REAL
STORY WILL TRULY BEGIN.
I PROMISE.
Acknowledgments
This series couldn’t have happened without Susan Van Metre and Maggie Lehrman, whose tag-team editing proved that two heads are better than one. However, the true unsung hero of this series is Chad W. Beckerman, whose art design was inspired, fun, and cool. A special thanks to Ethen Beavers for coming on this ride to the end—thanks for your brilliant illustrations. Alison Fargis, both better half and agent, inspired every page. Thank you to everyone at Stonesong. Big props to Jason Wells and his staff of super-publicists. A special thanks to fellow author and friend Julia DeViller for her insights into Ruby’s Jewish/Christian upbringing. Thanks to Starbucks 11807 in Brooklyn and to Allie Bayles AND Topher Scotton. As always, my pal Joe Deasy for just being my pal, and to my boy, Finn, whose love of stories reminds me why I have the best job in the world.
About the Author
Michael Buckley, a former member of NERDS, now spends his time writing. In addition to the top-secret file you are holding, Michael has written the New York Times bestselling Sisters Grimm series, which has been published in more than twenty languages. He has also created shows for Discovery Channel, Cartoon Network, Warner Bros., TLC, and Nickelodeon. He lives somewhere (if he told you where exactly, he’d have to kill you).
This book was art directed and designed by Agent Chad W. Beckerman. The illustrations were created by Agent Ethen Beavers.