Game Over, Pete Watson

by Joe Schreiber

  He started to come toward the back of the van.

  I held my breath. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay hidden there for more than a few seconds, especially if he started moving things around looking for me. Meanwhile my head was still throbbing from whatever it was I’d seen on that screen before it had finally crushed my dad—if it had really crushed him. After all, it was only the eight-bit version of him. Maybe my real dad was still playing softball. I kind of doubted it, but I try to keep a positive outlook on these things.

  I could hear the Bug Man breathing heavily through his mustache. It sounded like a janitor’s big push broom sweeping up piles of broken glass and charcoal. One more step and he’d be right on top of me. He reached down and started picking up the stuff that had fallen over.

  Then somebody was pounding on the outside of the van.

  The Bug Man stopped in his tracks.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice was saying from outside, and I heard a dog barking. “Hello?”

  The Bug Man didn’t do anything for a second. He didn’t know who was out there, but I did. I recognized her voice even before I heard her dog barking. It was Mrs. Wertley. The Bug Man started grumbling and went back up to the front of the van. When he opened the door, his voice sounded polite and happy again.

  “Well, hello, there, young lady,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, for one thing,” Mrs. Wertley snapped, “you can get this giant rolling cockroach out of my neighborhood.”

  “Giant rolling cockroach?” The Bug Man sounded confused and a little hurt.

  “You heard me,” Mrs. Wertley said. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you almost ran over Mr. Yappers, and then you just stopped in the middle of the street.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t care to hear your excuses,” Mrs. Wertley said, and she slapped the side of the van once more for good measure. WHAM! It sounded like she was hitting it with something harder than her hand. It sounded like she was hitting it with a book.

  “Hey,” the Bug Man said. “Stop that!”

  Mr. Yappers growled at him.

  I saw my chance. The handles of the back doors of the van were right in front of me, and if I jumped up and grabbed them in one quick move, I could escape. I swung myself up, took hold of the door handles, and yanked them as hard as I could.

  Except the back doors didn’t open.

  It turned out there was a very good reason for this.

  They were locked.

  [CHAPTER TWENTY]

  Old Lady Blah-Blah

  I have to stop here for a second and tell you some things that I really hate in movies and books:

  1) When the hero does something stupid that you would never do, and you don’t want him to do it, but he does it anyway. (I already told you this one.)

  2) When the bad guy has a change of heart and turns out good in the end. (I really hate this and I promise it doesn’t happen in this story.)

  3) When some annoying little old lady, like somebody’s grandma or something, turns out to be tough and funny and helps the hero with something.

  I always call that last one “old lady blah-blah,” and I can always see it coming a mile away. But I have to warn you: Right now that’s about to happen. If I were making up this story, I would leave it out. But since every word here is true, I have to leave it in. So . . .

  Sorry!

  Anyway, that’s when the Bug Man climbed out of the van. “Now, listen,” he started.

  “No, you listen to me,” Mrs. Wertley said, and there was another WHAM! as she hit the side of the van. “I’m only going to say this once.” WHAM! “I don’t know what you’ve got hiding”—WHAM!—“in the back of that van”—WHAM!—“but before you say another word”—WHAM!—“I’d suggest you consider what you say next”—WHAM!—“very carefully!”

  It was quiet for a long time. When the Bug Man spoke again, his voice sounded different. Softer. But somehow scarier.

  “Madam, I’ll thank you to stop hitting my vehicle with that large book,” he said. “The van belongs to the company, and I’m responsible for any damage.”

  “For your information,” Mrs. Wertley answered, “this book is Warriner’s English Grammar and Composition. It happens to be the single most important possession that I own.”

  “That’s great,” the Bug Man started, “but—”

  Mr. Yappers snarled, and I heard the Bug Man make a sudden loud yelping noise, which I guessed meant Mr. Yappers had bitten him. The Bug Man started saying all kinds of words you can’t say in a PG-rated movie, and his voice got farther away, which probably meant that Yappers was chasing him up the street. That gave me a chance to climb forward and hop down into the street, where Mrs. Wertley was waiting with her copy of Warriner’s still tucked under her arm

  She grabbed me by the shoulder.

  “Pete, listen to me.” Just up the street I could hear Mr. Yappers barking like crazy and snapping and clothes tearing and the Bug Man screaming and trying to get him off, but Mrs. Wertley didn’t even seem to notice. In fact, she was just staring straight at me. “Are you listening?”

  “Huh?” I said. “Oh. Yeah.” Except it turns out that it’s really hard to pay attention when somebody is screaming and yelling at a dog less than twenty feet away from you. At least Yappers kept the Bug Man from overhearing what Mrs. Wertley was saying to me.

  “Your father is one of the top analysts for the CIA,” Mrs. Wertley said. “That CommandRoid game system that you sold at the garage sale is the portal he uses to access the CIA’s top-secret database. That means that every government secret is coded inside that system. You have to get it back, do you understand? Right now.”

  “Wait a second,” I stared back at Mrs. Wertley. “Who are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Is that why the president was talking like that on TV?”

  “That’s not important right now,” she said.

  “Why was the president saying ‘Wugga-wugga-woo-woo’?” I asked.

  Mrs. Wertley sighed. “It’s code.”

  “Wugga-wugga-woo-woo is code?” I stared at her. “For what?”

  “The president was alerting undercover agents around the world by their code names and telling them to go into hiding. Uncle Steve, Banana Pants . . .”

  “And Charlie Chicken, too?” I asked.

  “Yes, Pete. Charlie Chicken, too.” Mrs. Wertley looked very pale. “He was broadcasting information from that list. That data should have never left your father’s CommandRoid.”

  “But I thought my dad worked for Health Solutions Inc.,” I said.

  “Pete.” Mrs. Wertley started shaking me hard enough to make my teeth rattle. “You’re not listening to me. You need to get the CommandRoid back. Think very carefully. Do you have any idea where it might have gone?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said, pointing at the van. “It’s right inside there.”

  Mrs. Wertley turned and looked around. And right at that moment, the Bug Man finally shook off Mr. Yappers, jumped back into the van, and went squealing away.

  [CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE]

  How Much Do I Stink?

  Mrs. Wertley turned and whistled through her teeth, and Mr. Yappers came running over. He had a little torn-off scrap of the Bug Man’s orange uniform in his teeth. Mrs. Wertley took it and pulled out a little plastic bag, sealing it up inside.

  “We need to get this to the lab,” she said. “They might be able to extract some information from it.”

  “Are you a spy too?” I asked.

  “A field agent, yes.” She nodded. “Most retired teachers work for the CIA in one capacity or another.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t look so shocked. You think we can live on the pension they give us?”

  I nodded. “That makes total sense,” I said, looking at the book in her arms. “That’s why you carry around that copy of Warriner’s English Grammar and Composition, isn’t it? It’s
actually some kind of computerized weapon or something.”

  Mrs. Wertley’s face became very, very serious. “No, Pete. I carry around Warriner’s because it is my single most valuable possession. The section on gerunds alone makes it worth owning. I would never dream of going anywhere without it.” Before I could answer, she pulled out a cell phone, hitting a speed-dial button. “It’s me. We lost the target. He’s headed west on Sugarbush Avenue. Yes. I’m told that he still has the CommandRoid.” She glared at me. “Are you sure you saw it?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “definitely, but—”

  “Pete, listen to me. Go home and stay there. Lock the door and don’t let anyone in. We’ll have an agent dispatched to your house immediately.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Go.”

  She was already turning and walking with Mr. Yappers in the opposite direction. I started back up the sidewalk to my house. If my dad was in the CIA and the CommandRoid was the way he accessed the top-secret government database, then what had I done by selling it to the Bug Man for twenty bucks? I thought about the president again, what he’d said on TV. Was I responsible for that, too?

  How was I supposed to know my dad was a spy? The most secret thing he’d ever done was replace my goldfish, Luigi, with a new goldfish when Luigi died while I was away at my grandma’s house. And he didn’t even pick one that looked like Luigi.

  The only thing that could have been a clue that he was a spy was the way he loves anagrams. He can rearrange letters to make other words faster than anybody I’ve ever known. Like sometimes he’ll look at a sign that says FREE KITTENS, and right away he’ll say, “Feet stinker,” but it won’t be till later that you realize what he did. It’s pretty cool, but not exactly spy behavior.

  My point is, my dad is not a sneaky guy.

  At least that’s what I used to think.

  I looked at my house. If I went back there, Mom was going to send me straight to my room. And there was someplace else I needed to go first.

  It was the last place in the world that I wanted to go.

  But the way I saw it, at this point I had no choice.

  [CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO]

  Help Pete Find Wesley’s House!

  [CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE]

  Into the Mouth of Madness

  I’d already forgotten it was Wesley’s birthday. Outside his house there were all these Mario Brothers balloons tied to the mailbox and a big Happy Birthday banner hanging over the front door. Four years ago Wesley’s mom bought every Mario Brothers item she could find on eBay, and she’s been using them ever since, for every one of his birthdays, even though Wesley and I don’t really play that game anymore. I guess they don’t make Brawl-A-Thon birthday decorations yet.

  Also, Wesley’s mom actually used to call us the Super Mario Brothers. One time when we went to the grocery store with her, she had us paged on the overhead speakers that way. That was pretty much the end of that.

  Anyway, Wesley’s mom’s van was in the driveway, so that was good. At least he was home. I was out of breath, and the whole way there I’d been looking over my shoulder, expecting the Bug Man’s giant cockroach to come rolling around the corner after me. So far, so good.

  I rang the bell a couple of times, and Mrs. Midwood opened the door.

  “Hi, Mrs. Midwood.” I was breathing hard. “Is Wesley home?”

  “Yes, he’s in the basement. But he said that you weren’t coming.”

  “I really need to see him,” I said. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course you can, dear.” She stepped aside and let me in. “Just take off your shoes.”

  It had been a while since I’d been to Wesley’s house. I guess I had forgotten how clean it was. Everything in the house was always totally white—the sofa, the chairs, the carpet, the walls—and it seemed like Mrs. Midwood was always running around with a rag, vacuuming or polishing or wiping a thumbprint off the window. She would’ve been great working in a crime lab.

  I walked through the living room, turned toward the basement, and stopped, staring at the blank wall in front of me.

  Except . . .

  The wall didn’t look blank anymore.

  Now I was seeing numbers and nonsense words streaming in front of my eyes like the wall was a giant monitor.

  It just kept going and going like that. After a second I realized this was all the stuff I’d seen in the Bug Man’s van. All the information that Dad had told me not to look at. Except now it was stuck in my head. Like it was behind my eyes somewhere. Maybe it was seeing all that blinding white, or the fact that I’d run over here as fast as I could, but all of a sudden I felt really dizzy, like I was about to pass out.

  “Are you okay, Peter?” Mrs. Midwood asked. “You look so white.”

  My first thought was: How can she tell, with all this white everywhere?

  My second thought was: She’s right.

  My third thought was: THUD.

  I hit the floor.

  Then I blacked out.

  [CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR]

  Where Babies Don’t Come From

  Or, How I Ruined Everything (Again)

  When I opened my eyes this time, Mrs. Midwood was staring down at me, looking really worried. I hardly noticed. Because standing right next to her was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

  She looked like a redheaded angel with red lips, and I remembered her from before.

  The words spilled off my lips before I could stop them.

  Callie Midwood frowned down at me. Seeing her frown made me realize where I was, and who she was, and what I’d just said to her. It hit me like a fork in an electrical outlet. I tried to sit up, but I guess I sat up too fast, because the top of my head smacked her in the mouth.

  “Ow!” she shouted, pulling back and putting her hand up to her face. “You just split my lip!”

  I got up and ran downstairs. The last thing I heard was Callie asking her mom for some ice to put on her lip.

  Down in the basement, Wesley was sitting with Nabeel, Squid, and Rashaad, surrounded by bowls of chips and bottles of soda and playing the brand-new BRAWL-A-THON 3000 XL on Wesley’s sixty-inch flat-screen TV with the volume turned up to a chest-vibrating level.

  And, okay, I’m not going to lie to you. It looked amazing.

  I mean, the graphics were awesome. The creatures were bigger and more fierce than anything I’d ever been up against. The sound effects were crunchier, somehow. (In the digital version of this book, you’ll be able to hear them in Dolby THX. In fact, by the time the digital version of this book is available, the publishers will probably have installed a version of the game itself right here in the middle so if you wanted to, you could just stop reading, click on GO, and play as long as you wanted before you went back to reading the next chapter. I’m always thinking about stuff like this—I’m way ahead of my time.)

  For now, though, I’ll just say this. Even with everything else that was going on—Dad being a spy, the president talking crazy on TV, me smacking Callie Midwood in the mouth with my head—all I could do for a moment was stand there and bask in the awesomeness.

  “Oh, hey, Pete,” Wesley said. “What’s up?”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. “Is this it?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Cool, huh?”

  “It looks amazing.”

  “Wanna play?”

  “Totally.” I started to sit down, then remembered why I was there. “Wait, no. Wesley, I have to talk to you.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Just let me finish this level.”

  “Dude,” Nabeel shouted, “look out for Electric Shoctopus!”

  I watched as Wesley frantically tried to shovel a bunch of machine parts into this giant half-constructed grizzly bear MechReature he was building before the ten-thousand-volt octopus could wrap its electric cables around the bear’s throat. Wesley’s mouth was open and his tongue was twanging his rubber bands like crazy and the clock was ticking and I could already see there
was no way he was going to make it. I grabbed the controller from Rasheed and started helping him put the different pieces together.

  “Hey!” Rashaad said. “What’s the big idea?”

  I turned to the screen.

  This was my turf. I might not be able to run a garage sale or track down the Bug Man, but this was something I knew how to handle.

  All of a sudden everything froze. The different pieces of the grizzly MechReature started floating back out and flying across the screen. Now there were two extra Rashaads doing the exact opposite of what I was trying to get the first Rashaad to do.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “Time is going sideways,” Nabeel said. “It does that.”

  “Oh, man, I totally forgot about that!”

  “Uh-huh. Tried to warn you. You have to stay out of your own way or you’ll annihilate yourself.”

  I tried to move, but one of the other versions of Rashaad kept doing the exact opposite, and the other kept doing and undoing what I was working on. I noticed a creepy black circle forming around the three versions of Rashaad as I worked. Meanwhile Wesley was eating Doritos and twanging the rubber bands on his teeth faster than ever. Little orange crumbs were flying everywhere.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I shouted.

  “Break the cycle!” Squid yelled.

  “I don’t know what that means!”

  “You have to break the cycle before time loops around you!” Nabeel shouted.

  “What happens if I fail?”

  “Then events from Rashaad’s past keep happening around us endlessly!” Wesley shouted.