“I know lots of things, Tessa. After all, they do call me Miss Information. For instance, I know that your kidnapping has been completely covered up.”

“Impossible! All my friends saw you take me!”

Miss Information snatched a remote control off a nearby table and aimed it at a wall of television screens. Every major news channel was broadcasting live. Not one of them was talking about Tessa.

“That’s kind of odd, don’t you think? The president’s daughter is taken against her will in front of her classmates and there’s not a peep on the news? What’s on CNN? Oh, a report about a squirrel that water-skis. Well, that’s huge international news, right? Watch this—he’s going to jump a ramp. Wow, that animal is fearless.”

Tears began to well in Tessa’s eyes. Miss Information’s plan was working perfectly. Now it was time to be a friend. She got up from her chair and wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Now, now, there’s no need to cry.”

Tessa pulled away from her angrily. “He’ll come for me and you’re going to go to jail forever.”

Miss Information frowned. “I guess we’re going to find out, Tessa. In the meantime, you look like you could use some rest. Guards, take Ms. Lipton to her room—not the cell. Run a hot bath for her and then send in the massage therapist and the manicurist. Also, find out if there is anything she would like to eat. Ms. Lipton is our guest.”

“So I’m not a hostage?”

“No, you’re still a hostage. Did I say ‘guest’? I meant … well … what’s a nicer word than prisoner? Captive? Detainee? Oh, it doesn’t matter. Honey, the point is: Get comfortable. We’re going to be here awhile.”

TOP SECRET DOSSIER

CODE NAME: BELL BOTTOM

REAL NAME: JEAN GREENE

YEARS ACTIVE: 1979–84

CURRENT OCCUPATION: FASHION DESIGNER

HISTORY: JEAN GREENE WAS

BROUGHT IN TO REPLACE AGENT

GHOST WHEN GHOST LEFT THE

TEAM AFTER HER PARENTS

DISCOVERED HER SPY ACTIVITIES.

JEAN’S EARLY LIFE WAS

TUMULTUOUS. SHE WAS KNOWN FOR

STEALING CARS AND GOING ON

JOYRIDES—PRIMARILY IN

TRANS AMS. THE PROBLEM WAS,

SHE WAS ELEVEN YEARS OLD.

UPGRADE: PRE-NANOBYTE

TECHNOLOGY. JEAN’S GIGANTIC

FLARING PANTS WERE EQUIPPED

WITH HUNDREDS OF TOOLS AND

WEAPONS SHE COULD ACCESS JUST

BY SHAKING HER LEG.

Heathcliff got no pleasure from being right, so when the team returned from Sugarland Academy, he didn’t meet them. It didn’t seem appropriate to rub salt in their wounds, especially since the principal was busy doing that himself.

“It’s time to accept reality. You need help. I’m recruiting new members immediately.”

“Agreed!” Duncan cried.

“Forget new members. Just put Heathcliff in the upgrade chair and let him back on the team,” Jackson said.

Heathcliff was stunned. Of all the people in the world, he never expected Jackson to be on his side.

“Agreed,” Duncan said again.

“No way,” Matilda said, though it sounded like she was yawning. “Not after what he’s done.”

“Agreed,” Duncan said.

“Huh?”

“Sorry,” Duncan said. “I’m just so tired, I’m having trouble keeping track of this conversation.”

“Put your head back on the table, Duncan,” Jackson said.

“Thank you.”

“Graagggghhhh,” Flinch said. “What if ‘nice-guy Heathcliff’ goes back to being ‘bad-guy Heathcliff’ after we’ve given him upgrades? I vote no.”

“We’re not voting,” Ruby said. “We don’t need someone unstable on the team.”

Bad-guy Heathcliff? Unstable? Heathcliff felt his heart break.

“We have to do something, Pufferfish,” the principal said.

“Who’s going to train these new recruits? And what happens if they wash out? Then we have to wipe their minds of all they’ve learned about us. The kids who can’t hack it are never the same. Most of them walk through the halls with crayons shoved up their noses, claiming to be Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Remember Bobby Rickle? He thinks he’s an electric eel. He runs up and pinches people on the butt.”

“The Shocker?” Jackson says. “You guys did that to him? That’s hilarious.”

“No, it’s sad!” Ruby replied.

“And sad,” Jackson echoed, breaking into a giggling fit.

“Then I’ll bring in the Troublemakers,” the principal said. “You’ve all worked with the Hyena, and Flinch has a good relationship with the others.”

Ruby banged the table. “Those guys don’t fix problems; they make them. Absolutely not.”

“Ruby, be reasonable,” Duncan said.

“Nope. No way. No Troublemakers. No new members I can’t control. No Heathcliff and his unstable brain. If you add anyone to this team, I will quit. We can handle this ourselves.”

Heathcliff crept back to his room and lay down on his cot.

Unstable.

What did that mean? He didn’t feel unstable. He felt like a normal twelve-year-old boy—albeit a very smart twelve-year-old boy. If he were unstable, wouldn’t he have symptoms? Wouldn’t he be yammering to himself about conspiracies and wearing a tinfoil hat so the aliens couldn’t read his thoughts?

No! He was perfectly healthy. But … maybe he hadn’t always been. A break with reality or a sudden mental illness would explain the year and a half of missing days and why the others were so weird around him. But if he had been sick, how did he get over it? Mental illness wasn’t like a cold. You didn’t just get better by eating chicken soup and drinking OJ.

He knew if he wanted answers, he had to get them on his own, so when the NERDS went home for the day, he padded down the empty hallways to the command center. Though he had never been on a mission in this particular Playground, it wasn’t much different from the one at the elementary school. The mission desk had a computer built into it that was activated by hand gestures. He waved his fingers over the circuitry. A moment later a television monitor lowered from the ceiling.

“PLEASE ENTER THE PASSWORD,” a computer voice directed as the same words flashed across the screen.

Heathcliff grimaced and said a silent prayer that his nerdy friends had not changed the nerdy password.

“Doctor Who.”

“DOCTOR WHO IS INCORRECT ACCESS DENIED PLEASE ENTER THE PASSWORD.”

Heathcliff growled. They had changed the password! How would he figure out the new one? It was always some reference from science fiction or comic books, but the number of possibilities was staggering. It could be any one of the nine different captains of the Starship Enterprise. It could be the name of Luke Skywalker’s aunt. It could be the name of the current Green Lantern. Actually, Heathcliff wasn’t sure who the current Green Lantern was. He was going to have to catch up on his comics.

Aaargh! He would have to guess. He knew he would only get three chances before the system locked him out—two, now that he’d blown it with “Doctor Who.”

“ENTER THE PASSWORD,” the computer commanded again.