“Freak!” Brett shouted, scrambling for the bathroom door.

“No!” Jackson cried. “Wait. They’re really cool.”

His friends rushed out of the bathroom, leaving him alone on the floor. He lay there for a long time, fighting back tears. It was clear that his former life was officially over. As he got to his feet, he found a soggy wad of paper crumpled beneath him. It was the envelope. He scooped it up and opened it gingerly. Inside was a blurry handwritten note.

Go to the cafeteria. Ask the lunch lady for

the creamed corn. Welcome to the National

Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society.

Jackson reread the words over and over to make sure he understood them. What did creamed corn have to do with becoming a spy?

He hurried down the hallway, leaving soggy footprints behind him.

The fifth grade was halfway through their lunch break, so the line in the cafeteria was short. Jackson hopped onto the end and soon stepped up to the counter. There he found the lunch lady chewing on an extinguished cigar. Jackson had never noticed her husky forearms before or, for that matter, how hairy they were. He had never noticed her five o’clock shadow before, either.

“What’ll you have, kid?” the lunch lady asked in a rather deep voice.

“I was told to order the creamed corn,” Jackson said, eyeing the grayish-yellow muck boiling in a pan next to some off-color green beans.

The lunch lady cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Did you say you wanted the creamed corn?”

“Yes, the creamed corn.”

“You sure, kid? Once you have the creamed corn, there’s no going back.”

Jackson shook some toilet water out of his ear. “I’m sure.”

The lunch lady scooped out a heaping helping of the goop and plopped it onto Jackson’s tray. “Welcome to the team, kid,” she said.

Once he found a seat, Jackson took a sniff of the corn and quickly realized that ordering it had been a terrible decision. It smelled like feet and maple syrup, and jiggled on the tray as if it were alive. Summoning all his courage and tightening all his stomach muscles, Jackson plunged his spoon into the goop and shoveled some into his mouth. Just as it went in, he thought he spotted something tiny and metallic. It was too late. He had already swallowed.

Jackson could feel the metal thing at the back of his throat, but it wasn’t sinking into his stomach, it was climbing into his nasal cavity! There was an odd tickling feeling and then a sudden sharp pain that made Jackson yelp, which made every kid in the cafeteria look in his direction.

There was horrible popping sound and then Jackson’s head filled with a whining feedback. He clamped his hands on his ears and cried out in agony. He heard a kid sitting behind him diagnose him as a lunatic. He was about to reply when he heard another voice, this one soft and calming.

“Welcome, Braceface.”

“Hello?”

“Do you wish to join NERDS, Braceface? Please confirm.” Jackson nodded. “Sure … I guess. But my name is Jackson—”

“Yes or no is required, Braceface.”

“Enough with the Braceface! Yes! I want to join,” he shouted, collecting more bug-eyed gazes.

“Confirmed. You have received a TL-46A Tracking, Calling, and Communication Implant. It has three functions. The first emits a unique radio frequency allowing agents to track your whereabouts. I will test this function.”

An incredible squeal blasted in Jackson’s brain. The pain was similar to that of eating an ice cream cone too fast except, in this case, it was like eating forty pounds of ice cream too fast. Jackson’s head was filled with a teeth-rattling screech and he fell over onto the floor. The kids who were sitting nearby picked up their trays and moved to other seats.

“Adjusting volume,” the voice said as the noise faded. “The TL-46A’s secondary function is as a pager system to alert agents of a crisis. I will test this function.”

Just then, Jackson felt an incredible itch in his nose and he let out a massive sneeze. His nose was running like a river, and he wiped it on his sleeve. He had seen the same thing happen to the nerd herd.

“Secondary function working within parameters,” the computer said. “OK, Braceface—”

“All right, pal, you call me Braceface one more time and I’m going to—”

“Testing.”

Suddenly, Jackson’s nose started to tickle and he sneezed. Then he sneezed again, and again, and again.

“Lastly, the implant allows communication between agents. Testing.”

There was a horrible whine of feedback in his head that caused Jackson to slam his head on his table and hold his hands over his ears.

“Prepare to be delivered,” Benjamin’s voice continued.

“Delivered?”

Just then, the fire alarm rang and the sprinkler system came to life. Cold water poured down, causing panicked kids and staff to rush for the exits. In the chaos, Jackson felt the floor below him disappear, and he plummeted into darkness, landing in an overstuffed chair next to the computer desk in the center of the Playground. Agent Brand was waiting for him.

“Welcome to the team,” Brand said, helping the boy to his feet. Jackson brushed himself off and scanned his surroundings. The scientists he had seen before were busy working on their various experiments.

“Well, I suppose we should get right to it,” Brand continued as he escorted Jackson around the massive room. “You’ve seen the Playground before. It’s our mission room, as well as a multifunction lab, information collection center, and training facility. You’ve met a few of our scientists. There are nearly fifty on staff, and they make up the finest minds in chemistry, engineering, and astrophysics—all working on the latest technologies to help your missions succeed.”

Somewhere, something exploded.

Brand continued the tour, showing Jackson a bank of desks manned by men and women watching video monitors. “We also have a full team of experts who search the globe for trouble. Our eyes are everywhere, so that we can stop a problem before it starts. This is where missions start and end, Jackson.”

The spy led him to a wall with a big red button on it. He instructed Jackson to press his back against the wall, and then Brand pushed the button. The wall spun around, and they found themselves in a tight, confined space that smelled of body odor. The spy opened a door and the two stepped out into one of the school hallways. Jackson realized they had come back through another set of lockers—just as he had entered the Playground on the first day of his screwy new life.

They walked down the hallway to the library.

“I want you to meet our information specialist, Ms. Holiday.”

“Ms. Holiday—you mean the librarian? She’s a spy?” Jackson cried.

Agent Brand nodded. “She assists with mission intelligence, cover stories, clothing and weapons, and mission preparation. At the moment she’s relaying the latest intelligence on an ongoing investigation to the team. Why don’t we go in and say hello? I’m sure they will be thrilled to hear you’ve agreed to join them.”

They stepped through the doorway and found Heathcliff, Ruby, Matilda, Duncan, and Flinch sitting at a round table. They looked angry.

Jackson was puzzled. Maybe they were angry about their mission, because surely, deep down, nerds would be honored to hang out with a kid like him. He turned to the nerds and smiled his best popular-kid smile. “Listen up, folks. I’m thrilled to be joining the team. Clearly, you needed someone with a little athletic ability, and it doesn’t hurt that I’m cute and brimming with charm. I mean, you’ve seen those James Bond movies. He looks a lot more like me than he does the rest of you. So, I guess I’ll be the face of the team and you guys can do whatever it is you do behind the scenes. Good? Good. Glad to be here.”