Текст книги "Attack of the BULLIES"

Автор книги: Michael Buckley

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

TOP SECRET DOSSIER

CODE NAME: BREEZY

REAL NAME: NIGEL PUNJAB

YEARS ACTIVE: 2005–09

CURRENT OCCUPATION: OWNER OF NIGEL’S HOUSE OF NICETIES

HISTORY: NIGEL’S FAMILY OWNED A

VERY POPULAR INDIAN RESTAURANT

SPECIALIZING IN SPICY DISHES

OF LENTILS, POTATOES, AND

CAULIFLOWER. SO NIGEL HAD

INTENSE AND OFTEN FRIGHTENING

GASTRIC ISSUES. IN FACT, THE BOY

WAS SO GASSY, HE BARELY NEEDED

ANY NANOBYTES TO ENHANCE AN

ALREADY POWERFUL POOT. HE WAS

AN INVALUABLE MEMBER OF THE

TEAM, SINGLE-HANDEDLY STOPPING

THE INFAMOUS FLOWER POWER

CRIMINAL RING. NIGEL

RETIRED SHORTLY AFTER

HIS FAMILY CLOSED THE

RESTAURANT AND OPENED

A HALLMARK CARD STORE.

UPGRADE: BREEZY’S UPGRADES

TURNED HIS ALREADY FORMIDABLE

FARTS INTO HOUSE-LEVELING BLASTS

OF WIND AND STINK. MANY OF HIS

FARTS WERE CAPABLE OF REACHING

AN F2 LEVEL ON THE NATIONAL

WEATHER SERVICE’S TORNADO RATING.

Ruby woke the next morning with her parents and baby brother hovering over her bed. They looked sweaty and nervous. Even Truman the dog looked anxious. He buried his furry head under her blanket.

“They’re here,” her mother whispered. She looked terrified.

Ruby could hear someone pounding on the front door.

“Who?”

“Our family,” she said. Her father pressed a finger to his lips. “Be quiet. They’ll hear you and come after us.”

“They’re early! I haven’t finished the bathroom schedule or color-coded the snacks!” Ruby whispered.

“They took us by surprise.” Her father was actually whimpering. His panicked eyes darted from the door to her windows.

Ruby heard someone knocking on the back door.

“Just stay quiet, and maybe they’ll go away and come back later,” he said.

Without warning, a mob appeared outside Ruby’s window and gaped at her family. They smiled and laughed and tapped on the glass.

“Surprise!” they cried.

Ruby’s mother cringed and opened the window.

“You’re early,” she said.

“We couldn’t stand to wait another second,” said Grandma Rose.

“Oh, Ruby, you’re so grown up!” said Aunt Suzi.

“Hey, Rubester! What grade are you in now?” Uncle Kevin shouted.

“Sarah, you look like you’ve put on some weight.”

“I hope whatever we’re eating tonight is kosher.”

“Can we come inside? I gotta use the can.”

“I have to get out of these shoes.”

“I call the bathroom for the next half hour.”

“Sarah, I noticed a Christmas tree in the window but not a menorah.”

Aunt Laura poked her head through the window. “Francis, you are celebrating Christmas, right? It’s not just the candles and the little wooden tops this year?”

“Laura, they’re called dreidels,” Ruby’s father said. “And yes, we celebrate Christmas. We also celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Of course you celebrate Hanukkah!” Grandpa Saul chimed in. “Who needs a holiday that is only one day long? Hanukkah lasts eight days! It’s simple math. More presents, right?”

“Yes, every kid in the world dreams of a handful of stale chocolate coins,” Aunt Suzi said.

“All right, let’s not start the Battle of the Best Holiday. You’ve only been here five minutes,” Sarah said.

“Technically, we’re not here until you let us inside,” said Cousin Finn.

Ruby’s family shared a brief but conspiratorial look that said, We could just close the window and go back to bed, but then Sarah flinched.

“Of course. Come around to the front door and we’ll let you in,” she said.

“Traitor,” Ruby grumbled.

“At least you get to go to school,” Sarah said. “Your father and I took the day off to get everything ready. Now we’re stuck.”

“We all need to work together. Mom, call the deli on Hamilton and get some bagels and lox over here for breakfast. When you’re done, start pouring coffee and juice. Dad, I need you on pancake duty.”

“OK. Where’s the batter?”

“The cabinet over the stove, second shelf, next to the flour. Blueberries are in the crisper, bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Syrup is in the condiment caddy on the door. If you get lost, there are charts posted everywhere, or you can check the family guide I made that’s attached to a chain swinging from a kitchen table leg. I’m on toilet paper duty. If Grandpa Saul called dibs on the bathroom, we need to be prepared. Truman and Noah, you’ve got the toughest job of all—you have to be cute. Turn on the adorable, and maybe everyone will forget how much they can’t stand one another. Any questions?”

Little Noah burped. “Gooby-moo-moo.”

Ruby clapped her hands. “Good. Team Peet—let’s do this!”

Ruby’s family sprang into action.

Soon the members of her extended family were filing into the house like clowns stepping out of a tiny car. When hats, coats, gloves, and galoshes were taken, hugs, kisses, and pats on the back delivered, and updates on everyone’s bad knees, agita, and high blood pressure were announced, the family eased into a slightly tense camaraderie fueled by food. Ruby had learned the hard way that these two, loud, obnoxious clans were a lot easier to manage when they had snacks in their mouths.

According to her parents, the tense relationship between Sarah’s and Francis’s families had started right away. For Sarah and Francis, it was love at first sight; but for their families, it was a nightmare of biblical proportions. Francis was a Boston-born Protestant raised by a huge family of big, strapping folk who loved to eat, shout about the Red Sox, and argue with one another in a way most people might find threatening but that they referred to as “chatting.” Sarah’s family was Jewish and from Long Island, New York. Their loudness rivaled that of the Peet family, plus they were die-hard Yankees fans and claimed to be freezing no matter what temperature the thermostat was set at. Sarah and Francis tried to accommodate everyone with a Christmas tree and a menorah, but each year someone would say something that offended someone else and all the holiday cheer would turn into a holiday fight.

“Why was Ruby still in bed when we showed up? The sun has been out for fifteen minutes,” Grandpa Tom grumbled. “When I was a kid, it was my job to wake up the roosters so they would crow. She’s wasting the day.”

“Ruby has a lot of things on her plate at school,” her father explained. “She needs all the rest she can get.”

“Too many extracurricular activities aren’t good. Let a kid be a kid, I always say,” said Uncle Kevin.

Cousin Leaf chuckled. “I know what she’s doing up so late. She’s writing love letters to boys.”

“Don’t tease her, Leaf,” Aunt Denise said, taking the baby from Sarah. “Look at this beautiful boy.”

Yes, do your job, Noah. Take the attention off me, please, thought Ruby.

There was a knock at the door and she heard Uncle Eddie shout that he’d get it. A moment later he returned. “There’s a man here to see Ruby.”

“Me? Who is it?”

“He says he’s your principal,” Uncle Eddie replied. “Are you in trouble, kid?”

“Ruby?” her father asked suspiciously.

“Um, no, he’s just very dedicated,” Ruby lied as she snatched her coat. “It’s probably about the winter dance. He wants me to be on the decorating committee.”

Moments later, she was outside on the front step, talking to the principal. A curious relative’s face peered out of every window of her home.

“Looks like you’ve got a full house today, huh?” the principal said, staring at the prying eyes.

“Jewish mother, Protestant father—all of Israel and England is here,” Ruby explained.

“It’s hard to believe they get along,” the principal said.

“Really hard to believe because they don’t. So … what’s going on?” Ruby asked, cutting to the chase. “Is there news on Tessa?”

“No, not a peep.”

“Then why not use the com-link?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone else to hear what I’m going to tell you. We have a huge problem,” the principal said. “I think we’re about to be exposed.”

“Exposed? By whom?”

“Savage,” he said. “I got a call on the secure line. He told the president about the team. Not about the upgrades—not yet—but the big guy knows we exist.”

The news felt like a blow to her belly. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. That’s why we’re going to talk to Alexander Brand.”

“Are you going to ask him to come back?”

“No,” the principal said. “He won’t. But I think he’ll be able to tell me what to do.”

Ruby felt a little guilty leaving her folks alone with the mob they called family, but not that guilty. She grabbed her things, pulled a hat over her head, and climbed into the principal’s Jeep. Soon, they were driving southwest along a scenic highway lined with snowy fir trees. After an hour, they turned onto an old country road that ran next to a crystal lake and then past tiny little cottages with ribbons of smoke escaping from their chimneys. The farther they drove, the more breathtaking the scenery. Ruby felt like they had entered a beautiful painting.

Then came more turns that forced them to make a few stops and reroutes. Ruby and the principal were ready to give up when they suddenly stumbled upon a mailbox hidden behind a thorny bush. The principal stopped the Jeep, got out, and shoved the branches aside. The mailbox had a name painted in red: A. BRAND.

They drove up the overgrown driveway path made from years of tire tracks and coasted beneath a canopy of leafless trees until a tiny log cabin appeared on the shore of the lake. As soon as the principal cut the Jeep’s engine, he and Ruby’s eardrums were assaulted by what sounded like the painful death throes of a very large animal.

“What is that?” Ruby asked.

The principal shrugged. “Could be anything. A moose … a bear. We should be careful. The most dangerous animal is the one that’s dying.”

The two spies crept around the corner of the house and immediately spotted the source of the noise. At the end of a long dock sat a lone figure who appeared to be strangling a cat. Ruby took off her glasses and wiped the smudges off the lenses, then slipped them back on to get a better look. She could see the man was not hurting an animal but rather playing an oboe—badly. When he blew on the woodwind’s reed, it emitted a sound like a duck exploding inside a kazoo. His screeches terrified the lake birds, who flew away, panicked.

“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 Tessa’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.