“Carson,” she said.
I snapped out of my daze.
“We’re not leaving until I get an answer,” she said firmly. “Why were you in that area of the school?”
“I—I,” I stammered. “I was walking through the halls, just on my way to meet up with my friend. And then I saw the craziest thing; it was this giant, like, rat. And its ears were human ears, or something, and then this tall guy with rat ears showed up and—”
“Let me stop you, Carson,” Ms. Pullman interrupted. “If the next words out of your mouth are anything but the truth, then we’re going to have a major problem. Trust, Carson, remember? You’re giving me very little reason to ever trust you again right now. Think carefully before you speak.”
I exhaled. Maybe she was right. And so I did the only thing I could do, something I’d never done before inside that office. I told the truth.
Not the whole truth, of course, about me being a spy and everything. But I told her that I had been breaking into Mr. Lepsing’s supply closet on a dare. I explained the years of rumors among the kids, and that I had drawn the short straw on being the guy who had to finally find out what he kept in there. I even told her about what I found inside his supply closet, wondering if that part might actually make her think I was lying again. Those wax figures were hardly any less weird or disturbing than a rat with human ears. Then I explained how when I came out of the classroom I saw a dark figure running from Mr. Jensen’s room and walked down there to investigate. And that’s when she found me there, looking guilty, and rightfully so, but for totally different reasons than she suspected.
When I was done, she nodded slowly. “That’s quite a story,” she said.
“I know,” I said.
“But I believe you. I appreciate your coming clean about breaking into Mr. Lepsing’s supply closet. That takes guts, Carson. And intelligence, too. Don’t you think?”
I shrugged. I seriously doubted I was that smart, not after finding a way to botch pretty much everything somehow.
“I’m proud of you,” she said. “Truly.”
“Um, thank you?” I said, shocked that the gamble seemed like it would actually pay off.
“That said,” Ms. Pullman finished, “you’re still getting one week of detention, an hour each day. And a stern warning, Carson. I’ll admit I’m a bit disappointed that you’ve gotten yourself into trouble so quickly, considering what I thought was a very nice meeting we had today.”
“I know,” I said, looking down. “I’m disappointed, too.”
And I really meant it. I liked Ms. Pullman. It was such an odd feeling, actually liking one of my principals. If it wasn’t for the whole secret agent thing, I think I really would have been trying to be on my best behavior. But, as it was, I was a secret agent now and I couldn’t change that. And so odds were that I’d find my way in here again before too long.
But unlike Mr. Gomez, Ms. Pullman wasn’t going to let me keep getting away with it all. She was a woman of her word. She knew it, and I knew it. If I wasn’t careful, I really would get myself expelled, whether or not I was able to save the world.
CHAPTER 22
ALWAYS PUT MONEY ON FAMILY
ONE GOOD THING ABOUT WHAT HAD HAPPENED THAT DAY WAS that it allowed Danielle and me to cross off more names from our list of suspects. We were down to just one each. Which meant that by the end of the next day, we would either know who the enemy agent was, or we’d be back at square one with virtually no clues and no leads at all as to who might have framed Mr. Gomez and why.
Danielle’s last suspect was Ophelia Perkins, Jake’s cousin. My last name was Peter “Junior” Nilsson. I couldn’t be sure whether either of them was the right size to be the hooded figure I’d seen running from Agent Nineteen’s office. Which meant we still needed to thoroughly vet both the remaining suspects.
But my money was on Ophelia. She had the family connection, after all. Just like Jake, who, outside of that, also seemed an unlikely candidate to be an enemy spy. And so we couldn’t let Ophelia’s do-gooder status and high grades deter our investigation. I quietly reminded Danielle of that several times during lunch the following day.
After lunch, I had one goal in mind: finding Junior and verifying that I could cross him off the list. But as soon as I saw him later that afternoon, between sixth and seventh periods, I knew that it might not be that simple after all.
At first, when I spotted him heading to his locker, everything seemed normal. I caught up to him and said hi. We weren’t friends technically, but as two of the school’s more notorious troublemakers, we still crossed paths from time to time. And there was a sort of mutual respect there, in spite of our different styles.
“Hey, Carson,” Junior said with a grin as he spun his locker dial. “Nice job with the goats the other day. Hilarious! Especially all the goat poo.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, not surprised that goat poo in the hallway was his favorite part. “So what have you been up to lately?”
“Me?” he said. “Nothing, why? Got something planned?”
“Maybe,” I said. “So your schedule is totally clear if I needed your help with another prank?”
He finally got the correct combination entered and pulled open his locker. And that’s when things started to get more suspicious. There was a black hoodie hanging inside it. There were a lot of black hooded sweatshirts out there, of course, but it was too much of a coincidence to ignore.
As was his eventual response.
“Uh, well, yeah, sort of,” he said, suddenly seeming to be nervous. “I mean, I’ve got some stuff after school a lot lately. But I mean, yeah, I should be free.”
He saw me eyeballing the hoodie and quickly slammed his locker shut.
“Hey, Junior, where were you yesterday at—” I started to ask, but he didn’t let me finish.
“Look, man, I’d love to chat, but I gotta go,” he said, turning away. “I’m running late.”
I stood there and watched him scamper nervously down the hall, suddenly realizing that I now had a lot more work ahead of me.
But I also finally had a solid lead.
CHAPTER 23
HANDCUFFED IN DETENTION
THE WORST PART ABOUT THE DETENTION I’D GOTTEN FROM Ms. Pullman was that it kept me from being able to follow Junior to investigate his activities. Instead, I was stuck in a room with a few other kids, just sitting there and staring out the window into one of the school’s parking lots.
A few minutes after I got there, two construction trucks rolled up and guys in overalls and hard hats began setting up orange cones. Moments later, one of them was hammering away at the pavement with a jackhammer.
“I wonder what’s going on,” I muttered, more to myself than anything.
But the kid next to me must have thought I was talking to him, because he answered me.
“My dad said it’s a controversial new project to install a solar-powered snow-melting system under the school’s parking lots that the new principal finally got pushed through,” he said. “Apparently, Gomez had been dragging his feet on it all year, worried about the construction causing a distraction and also thinking that all that solar-powered hippy crap never works. Anyway, now they have to hammer out the whole structural base of the east parking lot to try to get it installed in just a few days before winter really sets in.”
I recognized my detention neighbor. It was Vance Wheeler. His dad was a sixth-grade teacher and had a big mouth at the dinner table, which meant that Vance always had the inside scoop on the school and other teachers.
“Huh, interesting,” I said.
“Yeah, sure,” Vance said as if he thought I was being sarcastic. “It’s like watching a fireworks show with a sugar high.”
But I had actually meant it. Perhaps that was why Gomez was framed? He wasn’t approving this project, which could very easily have something to do with the Agency headquarters located a few miles down from where they were breaking up the parking lot pavement. Th
en again, even if that was why Medlock framed Gomez, it didn’t necessarily mean that Pullman was in on it. Maybe Medlock simply knew that Ms. Pullman, who struck me as a lady who knew how to get stuff done and was way more willing to take chances on new things, would push the project through right away.
This was getting complicated. I didn’t know what to think or believe anymore. And all I could think about as I sat there and watched the W Construction crew tear up the parking lot, was how much I missed having Agents Nineteen and Blue around to talk to. They had always been there for me, a kind of safety net that I could land in if I needed to.
But now they were gone and I was on my own. Danielle was a great friend, but she was just as inexperienced as I was. There was no net anymore.
I didn’t like being the last line of defense. Being a secret agent had been so much easier when there were other agents who knew what they were doing, when it felt like there was a giant machine behind me every step of the way.
I had never seemed so weak. So vulnerable. And it was all because of Medlock. One rogue agent. One man going back on his promise had taken down the whole operation, and basically all that stood between him and world domination was me.
A kid stuck in detention.
CHAPTER 24
A MEETING OF HOODED FIGURES IN THE WOODS PLOTTING CREEPY RITUALISTIC THINGS BETTER LEFT UNSAID
EVEN WORKING WITH REDUCED MANPOWER, THE AGENCY scared me. They could still pull off the impossible. Like, getting a message into my dinner at home that night. How they did that, and made sure that it ended up on my plate, I’ll never know. I didn’t even want to know.
But nonetheless, it was there, in my third bite of stroganoff.
MEET US BEHIND THE GARAGE IN YOUR ALLEY AT 8:19 P.M.
By “us” I had kind of hoped they meant Agent Nineteen and/or Agent Blue. But instead it was Agent Smiley, along with Danielle, who had apparently gotten a similar message in her corn chowder that evening.
“Status report,” Agent Smiley said without so much as a wave or greeting of any kind.
We filled her in on everything we’d found so far. What I saw near Agent Nineteen’s office. The names we’d crossed off our lists. The names we still had to go—the fact that I’d spotted Junior with a hooded sweatshirt just like the music room intruder’s. What I’d found out about the construction site. We told her everything.
And her face never changed the entire time. It remained blank. If it weren’t for her occasional nods and blinks, I’d have suspected she was sleepwalking, or dead. When we finished, Agent Smiley didn’t offer any sort of compliment. Instead, she just gave us another assignment.
“New objective,” she said. “Try and get closer to the construction zone. Find out what is going on there as soon as possible. This is in addition to your ongoing work locating the enemy spy.”
“Why can’t you investigate the construction zone?” I asked. “You could have a team there right now checking it out.”
She stared at me and I wondered briefly if she was trying to decide whether or not to slap me. But if that was the case, she apparently decided not to. Her face remained calm and unemotional when she replied. “We are looking into it independently,” she said. “But we’d like you to do so as well. I don’t think we need to justify why. That’s not how this works. We give an assignment, and then you carry it out. That’s how this goes.”
I sighed and nodded. I wished they trusted me enough to tell me more than they did. But at the same time, that was the reality of being a secret agent. The secrets never ended. Covert was the name of the game. If you didn’t like it . . . well, I guess you became Medlock.
“Okay,” I said, starting to feel overwhelmed by all of my missions. And never mind school. That was over. I didn’t think I’d gotten anything above a D on a test or assignment in weeks. I’d flunk out before I even completed any of my missions at this rate.
“Also,” she said offhandedly, “I’m supposed to tell you that Agent Nineteen has regained consciousness and is doing well.”
We both perked up at that. “When can we see him?” Danielle asked.
“Soon,” Agent Smiley said. “Come to the shed tomorrow after school for another progress report.”
And then she turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the alley.
I looked at Danielle with my eyebrows raised.
“Wow,” she said.
“No kidding,” I agreed. “Wait, are you saying that about Agent Smiley, or the news on Agent Nineteen, or the additional assignment?”
“Uh, all three,” she said. “I think.”
“What about Ophelia?”
Danielle shook her head.
“It’s not her,” she said. “I don’t think she even knows that she has an uncle Medlock at all. But even further, I found out she has debate team after school every day, and was there yesterday when Nineteen’s office was ransacked, confirmed by three other students and the debate coach.”
I nodded, not questioning her further. After how many times she’d saved my skin the past week, I trusted her probably more than anyone else in the world. Even Agents Blue and Nineteen. Danielle and I went back way before the Agency, our friendship cut right through that stuff.
“So that leaves us with Junior,” I said.
Danielle shrugged. “Lots of kids have black hoodies, but considering the circumstances, it is pretty incriminating. I’ll help you keep an eye on him.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Since I have detention after school, I think I’m going to have to get there early to scope out the parking lot construction. Can you make it?”
“Shoot, I can’t,” she said. “Dillon would get too suspicious. He’s already been asking me a lot more questions than usual lately. If I’m already gone when he gets up early to collect more fungus samples, it’s going to be an issue.”
“Oh, man, that’s right!” I nearly shouted. “I forgot all about that.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I made plans to help Dillon with his weird mushroom collection thing tomorrow morning,” I said.
I knew it would upset him to cancel; I’d been basically ignoring him lately with all this Agency madness. But I had to back out—there was no way I could blow off my assignment for some ridiculous mushroom collecting thing that was completely pointless. I had no choice, so I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.
I can’t make it tomorrow, sry man . . . don’t hate me . . . I gotta go to school early for xtra help.
“Yeah, he’ll definitely be bummed,” Danielle said as I typed. “He’d be even more disappointed and suspicious if I take off early now, too. Maybe I will help him instead. Are you sure you can cover the construction thing alone?”
“Yeah, totally. We don’t have much choice anyway,” I said. “Besides, if you snuck out early, Dillon would probably think you were going to some kind of Meeting of Hooded Figures in the Woods Plotting Creepy Ritualistic Things Better Left Unsaid or something.”
Danielle smirked at first and then a laugh burst from her mouth like it had forced its way out. She covered her mouth in surprise, which made me laugh, too. And that’s how our night ended, somehow in spite of everything happening, with both of us standing in my dark alley, laughing at nothing like lunatics.
CHAPTER 25
CURSING YOUR ANCESTORS
IT WAS AN ESPECIALLY COLD MORNING, EVEN FOR NOVEMBER IN North Dakota, which made riding my bike to school instead of taking the bus torturous. I’d actually rather have been getting tortured by Mule Medlock’s little psychopathic friend, Packard, than have to spend another minute out in the subzero temperatures. Thankfully there was no snow to add to the misery—it was too cold outside for snow to fall. Yes, that’s a real thing that happens in awful places like this.
And don’t ever let anyone tell you that people get used to weather this cold. Trust me, there is no getting used to negative ten-degree weather. It’s impossible. It’s simply too painful. You don’t get used to it,
you just get slightly better at surviving it.
There were times just like this one every year, where I cursed my ancestors for settling down in North Dakota instead of a normal state. There were dozens of perfectly normal, nonfreezing states they could have lived in. Why on earth had they chosen this one? But there wasn’t much I could do about that now except pedal faster.
By the time I got to the school, I had frozen boogers crusted to my upper lip and it felt like shards of icicles were stabbing my eyes repeatedly. But I couldn’t head inside the building just yet. There was still the matter of the parking lot investigation to attend to. Besides, the school doors weren’t open for students this early anyway.
I locked up my bike just as the glow of the sun appeared behind the horizon. The sun had not yet risen, but the promise of it doing so soon seemed to warm me a degree or two. My phone vibrated just after I finished securing my bike. It was from Dillon, his first response to me backing out on him that morning.
whatever man i guess Danielle might help me anyway.
I texted a quick reply.
Thnx for understanding. U sure youre not mad?
His response came right away.
Whatever. U do what you have to do I guess.
I sort of got the impression that he was holding back. That he was actually hurt and angry about it all. But I couldn’t worry about that at the moment. I had a job to do.
It was still too early for the work crew to have arrived, and it was eerily silent as I approached the construction zone. They had made a lot of progress in just one day. Several large yellow and orange construction machines loomed silently next to a shockingly deep and wide hole in the parking lot.
The hole was probably fifty feet in diameter and at least fifteen feet deep. Pipes and broken concrete were scattered across the frozen ground inside the pit, covered in a sparkling layer of ice crystals—like winter’s version of dew. There were several trucks and other equipment with W Construction Co. logos stamped on them surrounding the hole.
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