“You must reconsider,” Brand said. “He’s a good boy.”

Ms. Dove shook her head. “I’ve already put in for a transfer for him, and he’s been accepted at Harris Middle School for Troubled Teens.”

“Harris Middle School!” Flinch shouted. “That’s a last-chance school.”

“A last-chance school?” Brand asked.

“Yeah, it’s the place they send kids who have been kicked out of every other school in town. It has a barbed wire fence and a guard tower. You don’t graduate from there—you get out for good behavior!”

“Mr. Escala, why waste everyone’s time when the inevitable is right in front of our faces? I think we all know how this story ends,” Ms. Dove said.

“Ms. Dove, may I be honest with you?” Brand asked.

Ms. Dove cocked a curious eyebrow. “Please.”

“I went to a boarding school when I was a child and I had a lot of teachers who liked to call themselves disciplinarians. Some of their passion came from a good place—you know, a real desire to help children. But some of it came from a bad place. Some of it was mean-spirited. Sometimes a teacher would single out a kid to make him an example for the others. I suppose they thought if they could make one kid’s life miserable, the others would fall in line and behave.”

“Are you suggesting I’m picking on Mr. Escala?” Ms. Dove said, her smile suddenly turning into a frown.

“Well, Ms. Dove, you may know birds, but I know people. I know a bully when I see one.”

“You have quite an imagination,” she grumbled. She reached into her desk and pulled out some forms and signed them quickly.

“There. That’s settled,” she told Flinch. “You are no longer a student at this school. I wish you the best with your future endeavors and please empty out your locker before you leave at the end of the day.”

“Julio, come along,” Mr. Brand said as he rose from his chair.

“But I’m a good kid!”

“Come along,” Brand said. “This woman is a fool. This isn’t over, but we’re through here today.”

Flinch followed him out the door and into the hallway.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for,” Flinch said. “Oh, man. I’m going to Harris! The school uniform is an orange jumpsuit with your number printed on the front!”

“Julio, I know this looks bleak, but I have considerable power with the government. I can fix this. If Ms. Dove cannot compromise, then I will have her transferred to another school. Why, I might even have her deported just to teach her a—”

Just then, the door to Ms. Dove’s office door exploded, sending wood and metal shrapnel in every direction. The blast knocked Brand and Flinch to the floor.

“What was that?” Flinch asked.

From the office emerged a figure dressed in an enormous white bird suit. It had legs as orange as a chicken’s and a plume of bright red feathers on its head. It was Ms. Dove, and she was wearing one of the most ridiculous costumes Brand had ever seen. He might have laughed if not for the murderous look on the woman’s face.

“Are you out here in this hallway plotting to take me down?” she cried. “Do you fools really believe that the likes of you could do it?”

“Ms. Dove, what on earth!” Brand said.

“Don’t call me that! From now on you will bow to your knees and address me as Colonel Cuckoo!” She shook her tail feathers and flapped her arms aggressively, sending a shower of loose feathers to the floor.

“Those who choose to challenge me will face my wrath!” she crowed, then scratched at the floor with her feet. She let out a vicious squawk and rolled a white egg across the room.

It stopped at Flinch’s feet. Flinch started to laugh at it, but then three little panels on the shell slid open and steam seeped into the air. The egg began to beep faster and faster. A bomb!

Brand grabbed Flinch and dragged him around the corner just as the egg exploded, sending chunks of the wall tumbling to the floor where they had stood.

“Flinch, we need to split up. Try to lure her out of the school,” Brand said. “Those egg bombs could hurt the rest of the students.”

“I’m on it, boss,” Flinch said, turning and running down the hallway.

Ms. Dove stalked close behind, flapping her wings and tossing egg bombs. Explosions rocked the school.

Brand hobbled into a bathroom and shut the door. He was about to call for Benjamin when he spotted four boys huddled in the corner with screwdrivers, removing the plumbing from the sinks and toilets.

They looked at him.

He looked at them.

And then he exploded. “It’s you!” he cried. “You’re the kids who are making my job impossible.”

“Busted,” the redhead said with a laugh.

“Now, before you get all bent out of shape,” the short one said. “We’re just expressing our artistic freedom.”

There was another explosion in the hallway and the light fixtures in the bathroom rattled.

“What was that?”

Brand ignored the boys and pinched his nose. “Benjamin, are you there?”

Benjamin’s voice was on the other end. “Yes, sir.”

“We’ve got a problem topside. The principal is infected and is roaming the hallways in a chicken suit. She’s throwing egg bombs at everyone.”

One of the boys, who had an annoying whistle in his voice, shouted, “We’ve got to see this!”

“NO! Stay where you are!” Brand commanded, then turned his attention back to Benjamin. “We need to evacuate the students, but we need to make sure they aren’t running into the hallways when she’s out there.”

“Sensors indicate that Flinch has led her into the gymnasium,” Benjamin said. “This would seem to be the opportune time.”

“Do it,” Brand ordered.

A second later, the fire alarms blared and Brand could hear the children exiting their classes and heading for the emergency doors.

“Who are you talking to?” one of the kids asked. “Are you crazy? A lot of janitors are—I’m not judging.”

“Listen, you kids should go with the others,” Brand said, but the boys shook their heads.

“No way, man,” the red-haired one said. “This is the most exciting thing that has happened to us, like, ever. We’re staying!”

Brand groaned. “Who are you kids?”

The chubby one grinned. “We’re juvenile delinquents.”

Moments later, Flinch’s voice filled Brand’s head. “Hey, boss, she’s chasing me all over. I’ve got her in the library now, but she’s tossing explosives everywhere. She completely destroyed the nonfiction section. I don’t think anyone’s going to be doing a report on beluga whales this year.”

“Keep her busy, son,” Brand replied.

Ms. Holiday’s voice suddenly came online. “Alexander, what can I do to help?”

“Thank heavens you’re safe. I thought something had happened to you!”

“Alive and well, but it’s nice to know you were worried. Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to say anything like that on the com-link.”

Brand grinned. “I’ll let it go this time. I’ve got four students up here and a lunatic throwing bombs everywhere.”

“I know. We’re tracking your signal. You need to get to the Playground.”

“What about the other students? Are they safe?”

“The building has been evacuated, sir,” Benjamin said as another explosion rocked Brand’s eardrums. “Would you like to activate Protocol 49?”

“What is Protocol 49?”

“As acting director, you have the ability to force a complete lockdown of the school and control all the hidden systems within the building,” Benjamin explained.

Brand grinned. “There are hidden systems? Like what?”

“Laser cannons, sleeping gas, complete visual control—”

“Activate Protocol 49 and lock down the school!” Brand shouted.

Suddenly, a screaming siren filled the air. Flashing red lights popped out of the walls and steel panels slid down from the ceiling to cover the bathroom’s windows.