“That is the TA-48 Orbital Jet,” the lunch lady said proudly. “But we call it the School Bus.”

There was a loud siren wailing from speakers mounted on the wall. A moment later, Jackson could hear a voice beckoning all students to the basement because of a tornado warning.

“There isn’t a cloud in the sky,” Jackson said.

“True,” the lunch lady replied. “But getting everyone into a crouched position in the basement distracts them for a while.”

“Let’s get that roof retracted, people,” Brand shouted, and in no time there was more rumbling, this time from above. Jackson saw the gymnasium roof spreading apart, revealing the blue sky.

Ms. Holiday ushered the children up a small flight of stairs to the rocket’s door. “Come along. We have to get you on board.”

“On board!” Jackson exclaimed. “I can’t fly in a rocket.”

Heathcliff, Duncan, Matilda, Ruby, and Flinch eyed him with disgust.

“It’s always about you,” Ruby said as the rest of the team entered the hull of the ship. Jackson reluctantly followed. Brand and Holiday brought up the rear.

Duncan rubbed his hands together eagerly as he strapped himself into one of eight leather seats. “I love missions!”

“Do I get to blow something up?” Matilda asked.

“That remains to be seen,” Brand replied, helping the librarian into her seat and then taking his own.

A group of workers brought in six stuffed backpacks. Ms. Holiday smiled. “Oh, good, do they have everything?”

One of the workers nodded. “Everything that was on your list.”

“You can put those in the storage compartment,” Ms. Holiday said. The men opened a panel at the front of the jet and shoved the packs inside. A moment later the men were gone. No sooner had they left than the lunch lady climbed aboard.

“You ready to get this bird in the air?” she asked.

Brand nodded.

“She’s the pilot? That woman can’t make meat loaf. How is she going to fly a rocket?”

The lunch lady reached up and snatched her dull brown hair off her head. Jackson quickly realized she had been wearing a wig and had a clean-shaven bald head underneath. Then it dawned on him that the lunch lady wasn’t a lady at all.

“You don’t like my meat loaf, kid?” the lunch lady grunted. “I’m hurt.”

“Buckle up,” Ms. Holiday said.

Jackson considered jumping up and rushing out the open door while he still had a chance. Unfortunately, one of the workers slammed it shut. There was a loud roar and a sudden burst of speed, which caused Jackson to sink into his seat.

“Blast off.” Flinch cried. Jackson was horrified. He could feel the skin on his face clinging to his skull as it was pulled backward by the g-force, and he imagined the whole machine exploding. He turned to his window only to see the ship shoot out of the top of the school and rise higher and higher in the sky, up into the blackness of space. If he craned his neck, he could see the entire planet below. That’s when Jackson screamed.

And screamed …

… and screamed.

“Oh boy,” Heathcliff said, rolling his eyes. “I think we have a barfer on our hands.”

YOU’RE BACK!

UNBELIEVABLE. WELL,

TO BE HONEST, YOU’RE

DOING VERY WELL. OUR

DNA EXAMINATIONS HAVE

REVEALED YOU HAVE

A LOT OF NERDINESS

RUNNING THROUGH

YOUR BLOOD. IN FACT,

SENSORS REVEAL THAT

YOU ARE PRACTICALLY 90

PERCENT NERD. THAT’S

A LOT OF NERD. STILL,

THE BIG SHOTS AREN’T

COMPLETELY CONVINCED.

THEY WANT MORE INFORMATION, SO…

TO GRANT ACCESS TO

LEVEL 6, I NEED YOU

TO RUB YOUR ARMPIT

ON THE SENSOR.

REALLY, RUB YOUR

PIT ON THE SENSOR.

ACCESS DENIED!

HMMMM,

SENSOR MALFUNCTION.

TRY THE OTHER PIT.

ACCESS GRANTED.

(I NEED A SHOWER.)

The halls of the Milwaukee Mental Hospital were a creepy place late at night. They were dim, with ominous shadows that slithered about in the moonlight. The rooms that lined the hallway were filled with the criminally insane—certifiable lunatics responsible for mayhem, murder, and quite a number of maimings. The patients were the incorrigiblest of the incorrigible, and if one were to break out of his room, there would be no predicting what kind of chaos would follow. The possibilities unnerved Denny Parsons. Sure, he was a trained security guard. He had a badge. He had a nightstick. But crazy people were crazy people and it didn’t help that his partner, Tommy Newton, was a complete idiot.

“Look at this guy!” Tommy shouted as he peered through a window in one of the doors. “This guy is crazy.”

“That’s why they call this a mental hospital,” Denny said.

“I know that,” Tommy snapped. “But this one is real crazy. He’s in there flapping his arms like a duck. Hey, man, you ain’t no duck! You can’t fly!”

Denny wondered if Tommy would be missed if he were to somehow find himself locked in one of the rooms—maybe one of the soundproof ones with padded walls.

“Check this loony tune out,” Tommy said as he moved to another room. “He’s in there talking to himself. Hey! Ain’t nobody in there talking to you! I tell you, Denny, they should just let me sit down with some of these folks. I’d get their heads on straight.”

“Perhaps you should suggest that to the doctors,” Denny muttered as he aimed his flashlight farther down the hall. “Leave him be, Tommy. We’ve got a lot of halls to patrol.”

Suddenly, Denny heard a painful groan. When he turned around, Tommy was curled up in a ball on the floor, and a young woman, no … a girl, dressed entirely in black, was standing over him. Denny didn’t know whether to run for help or give the attacker a hug.

“I took a chance,” the girl said. “I’m hoping you’re the smart one.”

“Yes, that would be right,” Denny said.

“Tell me about Felix Jigsaw,” she said.

“The Jigsaw Puzzle King?” Denny said.

“The what?”

“The Jigsaw Puzzle King,” the guard said. “Don’t you read the papers?”

“I’ve been a little busy being twelve years old,” she replied.

“Felix Jigsaw was a brilliant scientist, or so I read. He specialized in tectonic plate theory, you know, the movement of continents. He was famous for his work on the Pangaea theory.”

“Huh?”