Suddenly, the phone rang. It wasn’t the phone on his desk. It was the phone. He stuffed his kitchen tools back in the cabinet and raced to his desk. Underneath his coffee mug was a glowing red button. He slammed it hard with the palm of his hand and watched as his drab, poorly decorated office went through a dramatic transformation. The yellowing walls flipped over to reveal banks of computers and electronic maps of the world. His ancient, clunky desk sank into the floor and was replaced with a blinking, beeping control panel. The grimy ceiling fan collapsed in on itself, and a large television monitor took its place. The glossy black screen blinked to life and his boss, a tough-as-nails five-star general named Savage, appeared on it.

Savage’s reputation as a fearless soldier made the principal’s record look downright cowardly. Rumors claimed the general once got out of a pit of quicksand just by threatening it.

Now, however, Savage’s massive bullet-shaped head looked sweaty and his tiny eyes shifted nervously. “Hello, Director. I wish I had time for chitchat, but we have a crisis on our hands that needs your team’s attention.”

“What is it, sir?”

“We have it from good sources that the president’s daughter, Tessa Lipton, is about to be kidnapped.”

The principal wasn’t the kind of man to gasp, but the news of such a brazen crime took his breath away. “When? How? Who?”

Savage’s massive head dissolved and was replaced with an image of the complete opposite: a sweet, cheerful-looking twelve-year-old girl with a grin as big as the midwestern sky. Her image morphed into a photo of an ultramodern building.

“We don’t know the when or how, but we think we have a where—Sugarland Academy, a very prestigious prep school for the children of political bigwigs and power brokers. It’s here in Arlington.”

“I know the lunch lady over there,” the principal said. “The security is top-notch.”

“Did you say you know the … lunch lady there?” the general asked.

“Um, we used to trade recipes.”

“Okaaaaay,” Savage said slowly. “Anyway, Sugarland has its own twelve-officer police department that cooperates with Tessa’s four-man Secret Service detail.”

“That’s a lot of eyeballs on one person,” the principal said. “Who would even try to kidnap her?”

The image was replaced with a photo of a woman wearing a black mask with a white skull painted on it.

The principal scowled. “Ms. Holiday!”

“She’s calling herself ‘Miss Information’ now,” Savage said. “We managed to get a mole inside her organization. He called it chaotic, filled with hundreds of scientists working on thousands of schemes aimed at every corner of the world. It’s really breathtaking how quickly she’s put this thing together.”

“And she’s had us running ragged ever since,” the principal growled. “I’ve had to split the team to handle it all. What else is this mole saying?”

“Nothing. He’s dead. We found his remains in the belly of a beached great white shark this morning. We’ve alerted the president. He and the First Lady are beside themselves with worry. If the commander in chief’s own daughter can be kidnapped, what does it say about our national security?”

The principal nodded. “This is not going to be easy for us, General. It will be tough to keep an eye on Tessa without her or the president knowing about it. The founders of this team were very concerned about staying out of the political maneuverings of whoever is running the country. If the politicians were to find out we had a superteam at their disposal, the kids’ lives would be turned upside down.”

“Then I suggest the kids keep their powers to themselves.”

“No upgrades,” the principal said. “Good idea, sir. I’ll have the kids enroll at Sugarland Academy.”

“I’ll work with the Secret Service and the school’s police,” Savage said. “There is one other problem, Director. Sugarland is a sophisticated school. The students are mature and cultured.”

“Sir?”

“And your kids are not—especially the hyper one.”

“Flinch. Don’t worry, sir. The team will rise to the occasion.”

“And leave the crazy one at home.”

The principal paused. Did the boss really think he would do something so dumb as send Heathcliff Hodges on a mission? If only there was somewhere to send him … Unfortunately, until the brains in the science department found a way to return his parents’ memories of him, Heathcliff had to stay in the Playground.

“I don’t think I have to tell you this mission is your top priority,” Savage continued. “I know it’s not easy to fill Agent Brand’s shoes, but if you and the team succeed in keeping Tessa safe, no one will question your leadership.”

“Is someone questioning my leadership?” the principal asked.

But the screen had already gone black. The room’s technology was quickly replaced with the drab, battered furniture of his principal’s office.

The principal was tempted to run to the file cabinet, snatch the spatula, and stuff it safely in the pocket of his suit jacket. It would make him feel better, but deep down he knew Randy and Barry were right. He was the boss now. He had to put the grill and the deep-fat fryer behind him.

“Take me to the Playground,” he said out loud.

A green light flashed and the floor beneath him opened. It was time to fight the bad guys, and he was heading toward a place where he could do just that.

KID, YOU’RE LIKE BEDBUGS:

I CAN’T GET RID OF YOU. I’VE

TRIED EVERYTHING SHORT OF DDT,

BUT YOU KEEP SHOWING UP AND

BEING ANNOYING. FIRST THERE WERE

THOSE EMBARRASSING DNA TESTS,

THEN THE CODE-BREAKING QUIZ, THEN

I THREW THAT PSYCHOLOGICAL EXAM

AT YOU, AND FINALLY THE PHYSICAL

CHALLENGES! EITHER YOU’RE

PASSIONATE ABOUT BEING A SECRET

AGENT OR YOU’RE DIM IN THE HEAD.

MY MONEY IS ON YOU BEING DIM.

SO, WHAT’S LEFT FOR YOU TO PROVE?

NOTHING.

YOU ACTUALLY MADE IT. YOU’RE A

MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL ESPIONAGE,

RESCUE, AND DEFENSE SOCIETY.

CONGRATULATIONS.

SO, STATE YOUR CODE NAME.

REALLY? YOU’RE GOING WITH THAT?

I MEAN, IT’S NOT EXACTLY

INTIMIDATING. IN FACT, IT’S

DOWNRIGHT SILLY. WHY NOT CALL

YOURSELF “FLUFFY BUNNY” OR “THE

CABBAGE”? HUH? MY CODE NAME?

AGENT BEANPOLE.

SHUT YOUR MOUTH!

BEANPOLE IS A FIERCE CODE NAME.

IT HAS AN AIR OF MYSTERY

ABOUT IT, TOO.

STOP LAUGHING.

I HATE YOU.

LET’S MOVE ON. MY NAME IS