RESULTS: FAILURE

After a serious smackdown from Matilda, Jackson was instructed to meet Heathcliff at the far end of the school building, on a tiny playground reserved for kindergartners. Heathcliff had a smug grin on his face that even his enormous buckteeth couldn’t hide.

“What are we doing here?” Jackson asked.

“Trust me, it’s not my idea. I wouldn’t help you if it weren’t a direct order. I’m supposed to train you to deal with an unpredictable situation.” Heathcliff’s disdain for Jackson dripped from every word. “A good secret agent must be prepared for anything. It’s the ability to think on your feet that will keep you alive.”

“Well, I don’t want to brag, but I saw a lot of unpredictable situations when I was leading the Tigers to the state championship. I don’t think your little training session will be much of a challenge.”

Just then, a bell rang and the door flew open. A sea of five-year-olds flooded the playground. They were as hyper as Flinch after a fluffernutter sandwich, and they ran about screaming, kicking balls, chasing each other, and singing like maniacs.

“What’s this all about?” Jackson said, trying to avoid a soccer ball to the head.

“You’ll see,” Heathcliff said as he turned to the children and smiled, flashing his giant teeth. “Get him, kids!”

The children stared at Heathcliff like he was as transfixing as a talking ice cream cone, then grew very still. All at once, they whipped their heads in Jackson’s direction and screamed in anger.

“Have fun,” Heathcliff shouted as the children rushed toward Jackson. With balls, jacks, rocks, and lunch boxes, they rained fury down on Jackson.

He was stunned at first. No one expects to be attacked by a bunch of hypnotized five-year-olds, but that was exactly what was happening. When a NASCAR lunch box cracked him in the skull, he knew he had to defend himself. But how? He didn’t feel right about fighting back, especially since the children were not in their right minds. He wondered if his braces could help. He tried to focus on the metal in his mouth, and suddenly it was swirling. A moment later, four long tentacles emerged from his lips, dipped down to the ground, and lifted him into the air, making him into a human spider. He picked his tentacled way through the crowd of children, but his escape only seemed to enrage them more. They chased after him, flinging their toys at his back, and shouting threats.

Worse still, he couldn’t outrun them. No matter which direction the legs carried him, the children were right behind, their hypnotized faces twisted in rage. He made a dash across the playground. Suddenly, his metallic legs tripped and he fell face-first into a set of monkey bars. His braces were tied up, and no matter what he did, he could not free them. It was the break the zombie children needed, and they fell on him with jump ropes, dollies, and finger paints. As they beat him senseless, he could see Heathcliff standing over him, laughing.

RESULTS: FAILURE

When Jackson could walk again, he staggered over to the older kids’ playground, where Duncan was waiting.

“What happened to you?” the chubby boy asked.

Jackson frowned and waved off the question. “I’d rather not talk about it. What’s next?”

Duncan gestured to a tetherball pole and led Jackson to it.

“We’re going to play tetherball?” Jackson asked hopefully.

“Not exactly,” Duncan said. He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a remote control. He pushed a button and the tetherball lifted off the chain like the head of a curious snake. “The tetherball is going to play you.”

“What’s all this?”

Duncan flashed a knowing smile. “I’m here to teach you the fine art of stealth, or in layman’s terms, how to be sneaky. A good secret agent needs to be able to operate in the shadows, move undetected, and keep a low profile. I suspect you’ll have problems with this.”

“Oh yeah?”

Duncan nodded. “You’re what my father would call a showboat. In today’s slang, I’d call you a glory hog. Think you can step out of your spotlight for a bit?”

Jackson scowled. “Let’s just do this.”

Duncan pushed another button on the remote, and the tetherball whipped around and snapped the chain that held it. Then it floated into the air above them. “This is the XP-400 Surveillance and Attack Sphere. I could talk for hours about its design—”

“I bet you could.”

Duncan ignored the interruption. “But to hurry this along, I’ll give you a brief explanation. You are going to hide somewhere in the school. This ball is going to find you. When it finds you, it’s going to shoot you with a high-intensity laser. It will hurt. A lot.”

“A laser?”

Duncan cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, Jackson. Are you afraid of a little ball? I thought you were an athlete. I read in the school paper that you hold our school’s all-time passing record. Now, I don’t know what that means, but I assume it means you’re fast. You can probably beat this thing, but if you’re scared …”

Jackson was aware of how reverse psychology worked. After all, he had once had a mother. But the boy’s tone made him angry. This chubby jerk was questioning his athletic prowess.

He had to prove him wrong. “Try to catch me, porky,” he shouted as he turned and raced into the school.

“Good luck!” Duncan shouted. “You’re going to need it.”

Jackson suspected his best chance of avoiding the laser ball was to find a room and lock himself inside. The XP-400 couldn’t zap what it couldn’t get to, and Jackson knew the perfect place: the library. He sprinted down the hall, threw open the library door, and closed it behind him. As he caught his breath, he smiled proudly. Finally, he had outsmarted one of these so-called spies—and it had been easy. Maybe these nerds weren’t good enough to be on a team with him. He sat down at a table, kicked up his feet, and contemplated a nap. That was until he saw something he would never have believed possible. The door to the library suddenly grew bright red, and a moment later it exploded. Chunks of wood and metal flew in all directions, and the library filled with a thick, black smoke. The explosion knocked Jackson out of his chair. He scrambled to his feet as the menacing orange ball floated into the room. Before he could dash away to a better hiding spot, the XP-400 fired and stung him in the rear. It felt like he had been bitten by a shark and he screamed in agony. Instinctively, Jackson leaped behind a shelf of books and rubbed his sore behind.

“I told you it would hurt,” Duncan said. Jackson scanned the room for the chubby spy and spotted him walking along the ceiling, leaving a trail of sticky footprints.

Jackson sprinted out of the room ahead of another laser shot. He ran down the hall and darted into the cafeteria. It dawned on him that he had not taken Duncan seriously. The nerd had mentioned that this was a test of stealth—not the ability to hide behind a door. Maybe the fat toad knew what he was talking about. As Jackson peered around the room, a stack of trays exploded behind him and showered down on his head. He leaped behind a table and tried to calm his breathing. It was then that he realized he could hear the machine. It made a subtle but audible hum. It was getting closer and would be on him in no time. He had to do something—and fast. It was then he recalled an old saying often used in his PeeWee football league: “Distraction wins games.” He leaped to his feet, snatched one of the trays from the ground, and tossed it to his right. He heard the sphere dart after the tray, so he dashed in the opposite direction. He was safely behind another table before the floating ball could react.