“Sure,” he said as if lost in thought. “Whatever you want.”
Simon ordered the man back into his tiny car. Simon and the squirrels climbed in as well, and the boy directed the man to an address in nearby Arlington, Virginia.
On the way, they got a number of odd stares. A few people nearly drove off the road. It wasn’t every day you saw a Volkswagen full of excited squirrels in the carpool lane.
Soon, the driver pulled up in front of a two-story Colonial home on a leafy green street in South Arlington. Simon told him to wait with the squirrels, and the boy snuck behind the house into the empty backyard. He scowled. Where was the swing set his father had built for him? Why would they take it down? Wouldn’t his parents still hope he was coming back?
When he carefully peered in the window of his house and saw the spot on the wall that had once held his photograph, it dawned on him what had happened. The NERDS had erased his parents’ memories and then removed all evidence that he had ever existed. After he disappeared, they wouldn’t have wanted Simon’s mother and father asking a lot of questions about his whereabouts. They couldn’t risk the exposure of their secret society. Every agent knew that if he or she died on a mission, his or her very existence would be erased like dust from a chalkboard, but Simon had never thought it would happen to him.
Unfortunately, Simon’s swing set had been more than a swing set. He raced to where it had once stood and got down on his hands and knees. He dug frantically in the ground. Just when he was about to give up, his fingers brushed against a tiny knob. He gave it a twist and a small portion of the yard lifted, revealing a compartment that held an odd collection of objects. Simon reached in, snatching a toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as a cell phone, a case of protein bars, and, finally, a black mask with a white skull painted on it. He closed the hole, turned the knob, and prepared to rush back to the car, then stopped. He had caught sight of his parents through the picture window. There they were, sitting together and reading the paper—his father working his way through the sports section, his mother busy with her real estate listings. Something inside Simon stirred. It hadn’t been a bad life. In fact, his mother and father had tried hard with him. Suddenly, he wanted to rush in and demand that they remember him, but he fought the impulse. Someday, when he had conquered the world, he’d come back here. Someday . . .
He walked back to the car. The driver was starting to come out of his trance, so Simon flashed his choppers once more and got the man back under his control. He tossed the protein bars into the backseat, where the squirrels attacked them. He devoured two himself and then took out the toothpaste and toothbrush and snatched up one of his furry companions.
“This toothpaste will let you hypnotize people. It won’t give you the same powers that I have—I’ve been upgraded by a supercomputer—but it will help you do what I just did to this driver for a short period of time.”
The squirrel chirped as Simon started brushing its teeth.
“Why do you need the toothpaste?” Simon asked the squirrel. “Because if I’m going to take over the world, we need some spending money.”
WELL, WELL, WELL—LOOK WHO’S BACK.
LONG TIME, NO SEE. I COULD HAVE SWORN
I’D SCARED YOU OFF WITH THE TEAM’S
SPINE-TINGLING ADVENTURE FROM THE
FIRST BOOK. MOST PEOPLE WHO READ IT
RAN HOME CRYING TO THEIR MOTHERS.
IT’S TRUE.
IT WAS ON THE NEWS!
BUT NOT YOU, HUH?
I GUESS YOU’RE MADE OF TOUGHER STUFF.
WE’LL SEE.
IN CASE YOU’VE FORGOTTEN, MY NAME IS
MICHAEL BUCKLEY. I’M A FORMER MEMBER
OF THE SECRET ORGANIZATION KNOWN
AS NERDS (THE NATIONAL ESPIONAGE,
RESCUE, AND DEFENSE SOCIETY).
LOTS OF FAMOUS PEOPLE HAVE BEEN MEMBERS
OF THE TEAM. I CAN’T TELL YOU THEIR
NAMES ’CAUSE THAT WOULD BLOW THEIR
COVERS, BUT TRUST ME—THEY ARE OUT
THERE. AND THEN THERE ARE A FEW OF
US WHO STICK A LITTLE CLOSER TO
HOME. I VOLUNTEERED TO DOCUMENT THE
CURRENT TEAM’S MISSIONS AND HELP
WEED THROUGH THE NEW RECRUITS EAGER
TO JOIN. IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY,
YOU WERE INDUCTED INTO THE TEAM ON A
TRIAL BASIS AND CHOSE A CODE NAME.
GO AHEAD AND REMIND ME. WHAT’S YOUR CODE NAME?
REALLY?
THAT’S YOUR CODE NAME?
THAT’S ONE SILLY CODE NAME.
OK, OK, I’M SORRY I MADE FUN OF YOUR
CODE NAME. GEEZ, TOUCHY?
LET’S GET BACK TO BUSINESS. IT’S TIME
TO BECOME A FULL-FLEDGED NERD, BUT
BEFORE YOU START JUMPING UP AND
DOWN, YOU NEED TO KNOW THAT BEING A
SPY IS DANGEROUS. YOU COULD GET HURT,
KILLED, OR WORSE! SO READ THIS BOOK
FROM COVER TO COVER, AND IF YOU CAN
DO IT WITHOUT WETTING YOUR PANTS,
YOU MIGHT JUST HAVE A CHANCE . . .
BUT HONESTLY, MOST KIDS END UP
WITH SOGGY SHORTS. IT’S NOTHING
TO BE ASHAMED OF. . . .
WHO AM I KIDDING?
THAT’S TOTALLY EMBARRASSING!
MAYBE YOU SHOULD TAKE A QUICK TRIP
TO THE BATHROOM BEFORE YOU READ
THE NEXT SECRET FILE.
YOU BACK?
DID YOU WASH YOUR HANDS?
OK . . . PUT YOUR THUMB HERE.
“Congratulations on stopping Professor Flurry and her deadly snow globe machine, Agent Gluestick,” the Hyena said via a video chat. Her signal was breaking up and full of static, but nothing could dim the former beauty queen’s bright green eyes.
“Just doing my job,” the boy replied.
“Always the humble one, huh? I hear Braceface asked for a trophy and Wheezer wanted tickets to WrestleMania. Pufferfish asked for a case of anti-itch cream, and the other one—the hyper one?”
“Flinch.”
“Yes, Flinch. He asked for something, but who can understand him? The boy talks a mile a minute.”
“I only wish we could have saved Hollywood. When the doctor turned on her machine, it was sealed in a glass globe and rolled into the ocean.”
“Eh, I was Ms. Preteen Hollywood, once. Trust me, it’s not such a big loss.”
“I heard you were on some secret mission.”
The Hyena nodded. “Can’t say much, only that it’s warm. I was tired of the long johns and mittens. So much better working for the good guys. Though I wish I were a little closer to, you know. . . ”
“Jackson?”
“If you tell, you’re a dead man!” the Hyena cried. “Listen, the world needs saving so I gotta run. Tell the gang I said hi— oh, and next time I contact you on the video screen, would you mind standing on the floor instead of the ceiling? It’s giving me motion sickness.”
Duncan Dewey leaped down from the ceiling, landing squarely on the floor. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
Suddenly there was a loud banging on the door across the room. “Hey, nerd! Open up!”
“Gotta run, too. Be careful, Mindy,” Duncan replied.
The girl growled.
“Sorry. Be careful, Hyena,” Gluestick said sheepishly.
Her face disappeared from the monitor just as a tiny blue orb floated out of a hole in the desk. It twittered as it buzzed around Duncan’s head. Then it spoke in a rather dignified voice. “The Creature is at the door, Gluestick.”
Duncan sighed. “I hear her, Benjamin.”
“People in Boston can hear her,” Benjamin replied. “Perhaps you should answer before she pounds the door down.”
Duncan opened the door a crack. Outside was something so horrible, so disturbing, so nightmarish that it would have caused a grown man to scream in terror. It was Duncan’s sister, Tanisha—or as Duncan and Benjamin called her, the Creature. The Creatur
e was fuming mad. When she was angry, Duncan thought she resembled a pit bull sucking on a lemon. When she was happy? Well, he would say, imagine the same thing without the lemon.
“May I help you?”
“What are you doing in there?” the Creature snapped.
“I’m afraid that’s classified.”
Tanisha snarled. “More of your stupid secret agent stuff?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
She growled. “Dad set fire to the house.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again! Your crazy gadgets are impossible to use. I was nearly blasted through the bathroom window this morning using that stupid hair dryer you brought home.”
“Perhaps it’s not the hair dryer that is stupid but the person using it,” Duncan mumbled.
“What did you say?” Tanisha cried as Duncan closed the door in her face.
The little blue orb darted up to him. “Time to put away the toys?”
Duncan nodded. “I’m afraid so, Benjamin. Activate bedroom mode.”
At once the computer monitor disappeared into the ceiling, the desk flipped on its side and sank into the floor like a slice of bread into a toaster, and Duncan’s leather chair rolled away behind the wall. When the room was empty, the walls themselves slid downward, revealing a curtained window, a dresser, a mirror, and a bookshelf stuffed with books about electronics and technology. A hole in the floor opened and a full-sized bed rose to the surface. The room’s transformation was complete when a stack of Popular Mechanics magazines slid out from under the mattress.
“Now I need to get dressed for school, Benjamin,” said Duncan. “Activate wardrobe mode.”
“Of course,” the orb replied as it spun like a top. Little blue light particles swirled around the room. They danced and twirled, combining into a three-dimensional hologram of a clothing store. Now standing before Duncan was another hologram—this was the human representation of the little blue orb: America’s elder statesman Benjamin Franklin, who, like Duncan, had once been a spy. Benjamin was dressed in white stockings, breeches, and a long coat. He smiled as he pulled out a measuring tape and went about measuring Duncan’s shoulder width, arm length, and inseam.
“How about something in a powdered wig?” Benjamin suggested, holding up a bright white hairpiece.
“Hmmm, maybe a little too eighteenth century?” Duncan replied.
Benjamin put the wig back, then presented a brown pinstripe suit. “Very well. This is pure twenty-first-century class. With a button-down shirt and a gray vest you would look very hip—like a young Frederick Douglass.”
“No, I was thinking about the usual,” the boy said.
Benjamin frowned. “The usual?”
Duncan nodded.
“Green shirt, purple pants, oxfords, all clashing?” Benjamin sighed.
Duncan nodded.
“OK.” Benjamin and the store vanished, leaving just the blue orb floating in the air. It chirped and beeped, then panels on the bedroom walls slid back, revealing banks of red lasers. They scanned Duncan. His pajamas fell away with a flash as dozens of cables with mechanical hands on the ends dropped down from the ceiling. Each held a different tool: scissors, needles, thread, chalk, brushes, etc. When long swatches of thick, shiny, purple and green fabric unrolled from above, the hands went to work cutting and sewing the cloth into slacks and a shirt.
Within moments, the hands were finished and the small spy was squeezed into an eye-burning, ill-fitting outfit of clashing colors.
“Just how I like it,” Duncan said as the orb floated onto his palm. He slipped it into his pants pocket and crept into the hallway. The Creature was waiting for him, her hands clenched into fists and her mouth twisted in a snarl.
“I heard what you said,” she growled. “And now you’re going to pay.”
“You have to catch me first,” Duncan said, leaping onto the wall and using his sticky hands and feet to scurry up to the ceiling. Tanisha ran after him, leaping up and swatting at him like he was a bug as he skirted the chandelier in the dining room and raced toward the kitchen. He managed to stay just out of reach, which made her all the angrier.
Luckily, Duncan’s parents were waiting for him in the kitchen. A small but growing cloud of smoke was rising out of the toaster, and his father, Avery, dressed in work boots and overalls, was slapping at it with a dish towel. His mother, Aiah, looked on, urging his dad to calm down.
“Duncan!” said his mother when she spotted the boy. “What have I told you?”
“‘No walking on the ceiling.’ Sorry,” Duncan said, and dropped to the floor. “So, I hear we have another five-alarm inferno in here.”
Avery scowled at his son’s joke.
“OK, no sense of humor this morning,” Duncan said as he grabbed a remote control sitting on the kitchen counter. He punched in a series of numbers and a panel on the kitchen wall slid back. A tiny winged robot buzzed out carrying an even smaller fire extinguisher. It hovered over the toaster and blasted it with fire retardant until the flames were dead. Then the robot zipped back into its hidden compartment.
“Duncan, enough is enough!” Avery cried. “All the gadgets have to go! I feel like I’m trapped in a James Bond movie.”
Aiah pursed her lips. “Avery, keep it down. We don’t want the neighbors to hear. It’s a national security thing!”
Avery frowned but lowered his voice. “When we agreed to let Duncan become a spy, I had no idea my house would be invaded by electronic doohickeys! Everything moves, beeps, and buzzes, and it’s driving me crazy. All a man wants in the morning is an English muffin, but I need a degree in advanced engineering to use the toaster. Well, that’s it. All of it has to go!”
“Dad, you can’t be serious. All this tech makes our lives better. We have things here that no one else in the world will have for decades!” Duncan said.
“And all of it is obnoxious!”
“So is Duncan, but I don’t hear anyone saying we need to toss him out with the trash,” the Creature said.
“Tanisha!” his mother snapped.
Duncan ignored his sister. “Look, it’s easy. Everything in the house can be controlled with this remote. First you push the yellow mounting button to activate the smart house system, then you select the number of the device you want to use, and finally you push the green button to start. If you want to pull the shades down on the windows, it’s yellow, then the number seven, then green.”
Suddenly, the shades on the windows lowered, plunging the room into complete darkness. Duncan pressed the buttons that made the shades rise again.
“If you want ice, you press yellow, four, green.” Ice tumbled out of the ice maker in the refrigerator door. “If you want coffee, you press yellow, nine, green.” Suddenly, the coffee machine came to life, brewing a fresh pot of java. “If you want to change the wallpaper, you press yellow, seventeen, green.” Suddenly, the floral-patterned wallpaper rolled up into the ceiling and was replaced with a jaunty nautical theme.
“All I want is an English muffin!” Avery cried.
“Simple. Yellow, forty-five, green, then you can select how well you want it toasted. You have seventeen options, from very light to very dark. When it’s finished, the remote asks you for either butter or cream cheese and which of nine varieties of jams and jellies you like. I recommend number six: strawberry-peach preserves. It’s crazy delicious.”
“No! No! No! No! No!” Avery grabbed his thermos, lunch box, and coal-black half of an English muffin. He took a bite and grimaced. “We’ll talk about this later. I’ve got to get to the garage. I’ve got three Pontiacs that need brakes and a Chrysler with a bad water pump.”
“You aren’t leaving this house without kissing me good-bye, are you?” Aiah said.
Duncan watched his dad’s anger dissolve as he leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek. Then he planted a kiss on the top of Duncan’s head and gave Tanisha, standing in the doorway, a kiss on the forehead on his way ou
t.
“Dad!” Tanisha complained. “I’m too old.”
Avery rolled his eyes at his wife and darted out the door.
“If he would just read the manual,” Duncan muttered. “It’s really all self-explanatory.”
“Duncan, honey, the manual is two thousand pages long,” his mother said. “I don’t want you to misunderstand. Your father is very proud of you and what you do for our country, but he didn’t sign up to be a spy himself. Maybe you can leave some of your gadgets at school?”
“How about all of them?” the Creature quipped.
“Leave them at school?” Duncan exclaimed. “That’s like telling me to leave my left leg at school, Mom.”
“I hardly think that’s the case,” Aiah said as she filled two bowls full of cereal and milk. She added spoons, then steered her kids to the table. “We could get along without all the bells and whistles.”
Duncan sat down and shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He thought about what his mother had said as he looked around. The family’s one-story ranch house was too small and had a leaky roof that required the strategic placement of buckets during heavy rains. The living room carpet looked like grass on an overused playground, and most of the furniture was so old, it should have been in a museum. They needed all the bells and whistles they could get.
Aiah gave her son a knowing look. “Duncan, we are doing just fine.” Then she smiled. Duncan’s mom had a smile that seemed to be borrowed from the sun. Duncan thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. If they could just bottle a little of the feeling he got when she grinned, they’d be millionaires ten times over. “I know you mean well, and some of these gadgets do make life a little easier, but take some advice from a person who has known your father for almost fourteen years. For a former boxer he’s got a pretty even temper—it takes a lot to get him angry—but if you keep denying him his breakfast, you’re going to see some of these gadgets getting a few right hooks and uppercuts. All he wants in the morning are smiles on our faces—” She stopped for a moment and flashed Tanisha a look.