by Jeff Miller
“Nobody’s going back to Mars!” said Mr. Minor. “Don’t worry.”
Neil looked at the reunited Minor family.
“Thanks, Neil,” said Kip, giving him a tight hug. “You don’t know how much it means to have our parents back.”
Neil gave a blushing nod and tried to take the compliment as best as he could.
“Neil, listen,” Harris interrupted, hanging up from what seemed like an important phone call. “I’m actually going to have my helicopter pilot pick me up. But I wanted to say—”
“No worries, Harris,” Neil said. “We don’t need a sappy good-bye. You head off to your secret island chain.”
“It’s not that secret.”
Neil laughed. “Well, even if it was a dumpy public island, I’d wanna come visit. You saved our mission, Harris. You’re always part of this team.”
Harris blinked a few times but kept a relaxed smile glued to his face.
“Neil, thanks,” Harris said, the helicopter appearing overhead. “After what we’ve been through, that means a lot. You try and steal every video game in the world, you’d be surprised at how few people actually want to hang out.”
Neil chuckled, and tried not to puke. His stomach was still in space, it seemed.
“But now I have eleven people I can call friends. And that means something.”
Neil gave the billionaire’s son a smile. He felt the same way.
“I still can’t believe you pulled it off, Andertol,” said Finch, putting a heavy arm around Neil’s shoulder. Together they looked out at the pink afternoon sky.
“Even if you don’t believe it, it still happened,” said Neil, tugging down on the bulky space blanket enclosing him.
“I guess that’s true. But I am sure of one thing,” Finch said. “That you’re an astronaut, Neil Andertol. A born space explorer.”
NEIL GRABBED THE HIDDEN KEY TO HIS HOUSE. HE PLUCKED IT from the ground and watched an earthworm squiggle in the print left behind. The twilight sky was a deep blue, and Neil paused to think how weird it was that he’d been out in the same sky. Neil wondered what kind of rules applied for outer-space jet lag.
Despite awful things like villains, the sound of Styrofoam rubbing together, and little sisters, Earth was a pretty cool place. It was like its very own spaceship, floating in the huge sea of outer space. Plus it had video games and TV and stuff.
Neil turned the key and pushed the door open with a creak.
“Hello? Guys?” he shouted. “Is there a new karate champion in the house?”
But the house was quiet, the only noise coming from the gentle hum of the refrigerator.
From the backyard, though, Neil heard a familiar squawk.
“Oh, crap. Regina!” Neil yelled, having completely forgotten about her. He raced out the back door. A crescendo of ostrich warbling rose out from the yard.
Doubling the normal meal amount, Neil gave her two huge scoops of pellets, and a heavy pet and fluff.
“Oh, there you are, Neil,” said his mother, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Come inside. Your sister has a very cool new trophy to show you.”
Relieved that life had returned to normal, Neil trotted back into the house.
“So how was the weekend? I didn’t hear from you the whole time! You must’ve really gotten along with the sitter,” said Neil’s mother, giving him a kiss on his head as he attempted to squirm away.
Uh-oh. What happened to the babysitter?
“It was pretty great. Went by fast,” Neil answered, wondering how soon he’d be able to slip upstairs to give Shuttle Fury another try. He wanted to know how it compared to the real deal.
“Out of this world,” said Mrs. Andertol, grabbing the remote for the small television on the kitchen countertop.
Neil froze, and his jaw hung slightly open.
“Uh, what?”
“Out of this world, you know. Out of sight,” she said. “Far-out. Is that a thing that people still say?”
“Oh,” Neil said, laughing at the thought that his parents would ever discover his military and space-exploring past. “I don’t think so. Where’s Janey?”
“Oh, she’s in her room. No pizza for her tonight, and she has to write a five-page letter.”
“To whom?”
“The tournament judge she karate-chopped in the back of the knee.”
“Whoa, really?”
“He had it coming!” yelled Neil’s little sister from upstairs.
“It was a rule infraction, young lady. Now you have to deal with it!”
Neil laughed. It was good to be home. He began to leave the kitchen.
“Before you disappear, go help unload the groceries, please,” Neil’s mother ordered. “Tonight we’re having kale salad and a pizza for you. I swear we ate nothing but ravioli this whole weekend.”
Neil headed for the garage, then heard his mother gasp. It sounded bad. He spun around to see the whole Minor family on cable news, waving proudly from NASA.
“They made it back!” Mrs. Andertol shrieked.
Neil grinned as he watched Elle and Clint stoop down to receive blue-ribbon awards—the Medal of Unwavering Honor. Neil remembered standing in the museum/buffet just days before, wanting more than anything to receive such an honor.
I’d rather help two kids find their parents and save the world than get a medal any day.
Neil went to the garage. The family utility wagon had a small mountain of white grocery bags waiting for him. He grabbed the thin plastic handles of five white bags.
“Package for you, Mr. Andertol,” said a deep, familiar voice. Neil turned around to see Jones in the driveway, standing behind the car.
“Major General, sir,” Neil said, saluting Jones. Jones handed Neil an envelope, LEVEL TWELVE inked in black across it. Neil held it with both hands and began to imagine the possible adventures it could contain.
This time, whatever it is, I’m actually playing the whole thing.
“Open it,” said Jones.
Neil pulled out a case. It was black felt, and not a video game, like he’d expected. Neil opened the square box, which creaked like a tiny, startled frog. Inside was a medal, like the kind dangling around the necks of Clint and Elle Minor.
In engraved letters it read ASTRONAUT NEIL ANDERTOL.
Neil smiled and looked at Jones. The two shared a salute as the garage door slowly rolled shut.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to offer my deepest gratitude to my editors, the amazing and insightful Hayley Wagreich and Catherine Wallace. I also wish to thank the team at Alloy, including Josh Bank, Sara Shandler, and Les Morgenstein. And thanks to the art department at HarperCollins—Alison Klapthor, Alison Donalty, and Barbara Fitzsimmons—for making sure the nerds have a cover that’s as fun as they are.
To Meryl, my family, and my friends: this truly would not have been possible without your support. My appreciation for you all is unending.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Brandon Dahlquist
JEFF MILLER is a former newspaper delivery boy from Kent, Ohio, and is a top scorer in coffee drinking. The Nerdy Dozen was his first novel.
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CREDITS
Cover art © 2015 by Les McClaine
Cover design by Alison Klapthor
COPYRIGHT
THE NERDY DOZEN: CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE NERD KIND. Copyright © 2015 by Alloy Entertainment. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-
books.
Produced by Alloy Entertainment
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2014958871
ISBN 978-0-06-227265-2
EPub Edition © February 2015 ISBN 9780062306647
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FIRST EDITION
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