But the BULLIES were not out of danger yet. A car careened out of the bus lane and headed straight at them. Snot Rocket fired an explosive booger at the ground, which created a pothole. The car drove into it headfirst.

A siren wailed and a police car arrived on the scene. A chubby officer got out, his eyes wide and his mouth in a surprised O.

Thor slammed his fists on the hood of the cop car and it folded in half like a taco. The cop drew his weapon, but Funk was already sending a cloud of noxious green air at him. Overcome by the stench, the policeman dropped to his knees.

Miss Information smiled. “Welcome to 1987, where there is no Wi-Fi, iPods, Facebook, or texting. Most people still buy music at a record store.”

“What’s a record store?” Tammy said.

Miss Information shook her head and pressed a button on the time machine. She watched it collapse and morph into a box she could fit into the palm of her hand. “What a nice feature!”

Benjy floated above her head. “Many of my functions are inoperable, including telecommunications. The satellites needed don’t seem to exist.”

“But you still have our list of targets, correct?” she asked.

“I do,” Benjy said. “In fact, the first one was on that bus.”

Miss Information turned her attention to the shaken passengers, who now stood in groups on the side of the road. She spotted a tall, lean elderly man with brown skin and a bristly white mustache. He was rubbing his neck as if he had whiplash.

“Mr. Escala!” she cried, rushing across the street. “Mr. Escala!”

Surprised, the man took a step back. His face was full of fear. “How do you know me?”

“Oh, I don’t know you, Mr. Escala, but I’ve been having a big problem with one of your relatives. Thinking about moving to the United States?”

“My son talks about it,” Mr. Escala said. “Who are you? Are you responsible for this accident?”

“Allow us to roll out the welcome wagon,” Miss Information said.

Thor picked up a taxicab and threw it down the street. It bounced around like a bowling ball, slamming into a fire hydrant. A geyser of water shot into the air, drenching the crowd.

Mr. Escala’s eyes were full of terror.

“The United States is no place for your family,” Miss Information said. “This is a lawless country filled with maniacs. You should go to the airport now and get on the first plane home.”

Petrified, Mr. Escala ran away.

Ms. Holiday watched him go. “Do you think that will work, Benjy?” she said.

The little orb spun around and clicked. “There is a ninety percent statistical chance that it succeeded. However, the only way to test for accuracy is to go back to our present and see for ourselves.”

“No time, Benjy. Who’s next?”

“There’s a Mr. Dewey working as a mechanic in the year 1995,” Benjy said. “Records indicate he’s the future father of Duncan Dewey. According to his Facebook page, it appears September first is the day he met Duncan’s mother, Aiah.”

“Very good,” Miss Information said. “Let’s go say hello to the happy couple and make sure they become very unhappy.”

She set the little box on the ground and it regained its form as the time machine. Moments later, she and the children were spinning their way toward 1995.

Ruby slept on a Skee-Ball ramp and woke with a laundry list of aching muscles. Unfortunately, her stiff neck and back were nothing compared to the pain in her face, which had swollen to the size of a party balloon. She was clearly having an allergic reaction, one of her most severe, but for the life of her she could not figure out what kind.

She took two allergy tablets, then searched the pizza parlor for her teammates. She found them with the principal in one of the booths, peering at a large pepperoni pizza. It appeared to be ice-cold.

“There’s nothing to eat but pizza, in case you were wondering,” Matilda said.

“Cold, ugly, disgusting pizza,” Duncan said.

“I’m glad you’re awake. We have news,” the principal said. “Heathcliff, you’re on.”

Heathcliff beamed. “Last night, at around eleven P.M., a NASA satellite detected a massive energy spike on our local power grid. Oddly enough, it happened at a school, the Margreet Zelle Detention Center for the Incorrigible. But there’s something that makes this even more interesting. The National Weather Service satellite helped me track down the exhaust fumes of Miss Information’s flying bus. Guess where the trail ends?”

“The Margreet Zelle Detention Center for the Incorrigible,” Ruby guessed.

“And there’s more!” Heathcliff said, sinking a token into a nearby arcade game. A moment later, images of Loudmouth, Thor, Funk, and Snot Rocket appeared on-screen. “Guess where these four freaks go to school.”

“You found her!” Jackson cried.

“We found her,” Heathcliff said. “Miss Information’s secret hideout is less than six miles away.”

“Suit up, kids. You too, Heathcliff. You’re going with them,” the principal said.

The boy’s grin was as wide as Texas.

Ruby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” the principal growled. “Suit up, kids.”

Margreet Zelle Detention Center for the Incorrigible looked like Alcatraz prison’s baby brother. It had an electrified fence lined with barbed wire, four guard towers, and bars on all the windows.

“Well, it’s not Sugarland Academy,” Ruby said as she eyed a door with a sign that read SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.

Duncan had his nose buried so deep in the screen of his handheld tracking device that he nearly walked into the wall. “I’m using sonar. There’s definitely something deep beneath us. A cave.”

“How do we get to it?” Heathcliff asked.

Flinch reached into his pocket and took out a couple of candy bars, which he ate without unwrapping. “I’ll just smash through the floor. Give me a second.”

“Or we could use this.” Duncan opened a locker door.

“No way!” Matilda said.

“Yes way,” Duncan said. “Just like ours.”

Matilda and Jackson fought to be the first to take the entrance. Ruby followed them, and in a flash she was whisked down a mile-long tunnel and abruptly deposited into the remains of a secret bunker that looked oddly familiar.

“She copied the Playground,” Heathcliff said when he landed next to her.

“It’s identical,” Ruby said.

The walls, columns—even the ceramic tiles—were the same. There was a command center and a desk where Benjamin would hover.

“Ms. Holiday has really taken a leap off the high dive,” Jackson said. “She’s got her own team of superpowered kids, her own Playground—it’s like she’s trying to re-create what she once had.”

“Could this be a result of the villain virus?” Matilda asked. “Could some of the evil nanobytes have survived and adapted inside her?”

Ruby wasn’t sure what to tell Matilda. The information Agent Brand had shared with her and the principal felt private. At the same time, the others deserved to know that their Ms. Holiday was an invention. She decided to tell.

The news seemed to break their hearts as much as it had broken hers.

“Maybe the virus made her crazy,” Flinch said.

“Huh?” Ruby replied.

“When you guys were infected with the evil nanobytes, all of you took on new personalities. You also got really smart and invented things you couldn’t possibly have created before. Ms. Holiday already had two personalities: her real identity as a Russian spy, then as our librarian. Actually, if you think about it, she had to pretend to be an American spy, too—”

“This is getting confusing,” Matilda said.

“No, I think I understand,” Duncan said. “Ms. Holiday was juggling three unique personalities. When she was infected, she took on the fourth—Miss Information. Maybe she couldn’t handle another one and something broke.”