Zeke Bartholomew (15 page)

I spun around, looking for some sign of her. Anything.

But Sparrow was gone.

8:17 p.m.

Seventeen minutes since we saved the world. I think…

This is Stefan Holt, reporting live from the scene of the crime. What we have here is an explosion of the highest magnitude, with fire and brimstone raining down all across the horizon. What has happened here we do not know for certain yet. Hey, Dad, can I have a hot chocolate?”

Okay, so Stefan Holt wasn't
really
reporting live from the scene, but his dad was, and the kid kept pretending to report his own fake newscast while peppering his working dad with annoying questions, such as whether they could go across the street and get snacks from the coffee shop sitting atop a molten lava reactor cave.

I watched Stefan Holt's dad report the real news. Rumors were they had to break into other breaking news: that the new PB&J single had debuted to critical panning. Kids around the world hated it. The duo had canceled all appearances and concerts for the indefinite future. And according to their publicist, both would be taking a step back from the spotlight, perhaps permanently.

We got to see some of the publicist's press conference on a closed-circuit TV in the back of one of the news vans. I recognized the publicist immediately: it was the driver of the sedan that had picked me up outside of Derek Lance's house. The guy looked absolutely terrified, and as soon as his carefully prepared statement was read, he practically sprinted away from the microphones. I smiled. The bad guys were all gone or going into hiding. Operation Songbird was finished.

And, hey, if we'd not only put an end to the PB&J army but to their music career too, well, that was just icing on the cake.

I was sitting on the curb with Kyle, waiting for our parents to come pick us up. We hadn't said a word since we realized we'd survived the explosion, but there were enough fire trucks, news crews, and onlookers to do all the talking for us.

It still didn't seem fully real. That just the other day I watched as vans carrying Derek Lance and his family pulled up to the abandoned home next to ours, and today I'd been fighting Derek in the middle of a cheesy robot pop-star army miles underground. It felt like I'd somehow fallen into a video game and survived the ending but had the bumps and bruises to show for it.

“What's gonna happen now?” Kyle asked.

“I have no idea. Who knows if they'll even find Le Carré's cave. They might just chalk it up to some sort of venti coffee meltdown.”

“Yeah. I figured one of those was bound to happen someday. What happened to the girl?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I don't know.”

Just then we saw a small, furry animal scamper through the woods. It stopped to stare at us, gnashing its teeth once before disappearing into the forest.

“There goes Higgins,” Kyle said.

“Guess we're not the only ones who made it out of there alive,” I replied.

“No,” he said. “I guess not.”

I heard tires squeal up to the curb. Two cars stopped, and three people got out of them. Kyle's mom and dad—who were each well over six feet tall—and my own dad. Kyle's parents gathered him up into a gigantic, freakishly tall hug. My dad walked over to me. Tears were in his eyes. Something lead fell into my gut. I didn't wait for him to get to me. I got up, ran over to him, and threw my arms around him.

“It's okay, son,” he said. “I'm here, Zeke. Nothing's going to happen to you.”

“I know,” I said, drooling tears and snot into his jacket. “Love you, Dad.”

He took my face in his hands, smiled, and we continued hugging.

A police officer took statements from Kyle and me as witnesses. We told him we'd just hitchhiked over here, taken a joyride, and happened to see the whole mess go down. The officer gave us his card and told us to call him at the station if we remembered anything else. I told him we would.

I got into the car with my dad. Kyle and I shared a slight smile before our respective cars drove away.

Before Dad pulled out onto the highway, we sat there in silence for a while.

Finally he turned to me and said, “You sure you're all right, Zeke?”

“I'm fine, Dad. Just looking forward to getting home, getting back to my boring old life.”

He patted me on the cheek. “We can do that.”

I didn't really believe what I'd said. Though I was looking forward to getting home, I knew the adventures with Sparrow had changed me forever. I felt like I was a different Zeke. Same body, new motor.

When we got home, I passed right out and didn't wake up until the alarm clock woke me the next morning.

“Zeke!” my dad shouted. “Time for school!”

Funny. I had almost forgotten about school after everything that had happened. I dragged myself out of bed. It was only when I stood up that I realized how sore my body was. I guess with all the adrenaline that had been pumping through it the past few days, my body hadn't had a chance to really process all the abuse I'd put it through. Of course, not having really been very active before this didn't help. Like taking a rusty bicycle and trying to go from zero to ninety in thirty seconds.

When the school bus pulled up, I stumble-walked over and made my way up the steps. I found a seat and sighed as I lowered myself into it. A minute later, Kyle ambled on board. He was limping slightly. He made his way to the back and sat down next to me.

“I feel like I got run over by a truck,” Kyle said.

“I feel like your truck attacked me when it was done with you.”

“Your backpack looks light. No gadgets to bring to homeroom today?”

“Nah,” I said. “I'm done with all that. Look where it got me.”

“Yeah. You owe me a bit of an explanation,” he said with a hint of annoyance.

“You'll get it,” I said. “I promise. Now, wake me when we get to school.”

The day passed faster than I could have imagined. I did my best to pay attention in class, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about what Sparrow and I had done. The lives we'd saved. That despite all the pain I was in now, and how many times I'd almost been killed, something about the adventures felt right. Like maybe there was a reason I was still alive. Maybe Derek Lance was wrong. Maybe this nerdy dog hadn't just gotten lucky. Maybe I was actually good at this.

Don't get ahead of yourself,
I thought.
You're back to being just plain old Zeke Bartholomew, Seventh-Grade Loser.

Sometimes I didn't like what my internal monologue had to say to me.

That afternoon, once the final bell had rung, I met Kyle and we trudged through the hall on the way to the bus back home. We were both still limping and aching, but I was more sad than anything. I felt like a world had opened up in front of me, a world I'd always dreamed about being a part of, and then just as quickly closed on my face.

I was just plain old Ezekiel Bartholomew. Time to get used to it.

We left the school, threading our way through dozens of kids chatting, fooling around, done for the day. I was looking forward to seeing my dad again, but that was all. Once that school bus door closed, it was back to the usual.

I saw the bus idling, waiting for us. I frowned and kept walking.

“Hey, uh, Zeke,” Kyle said, nudging me in the arm, right on a big old bruise.

“Ow, easy, big guy. What's up?”

“Look.”

I stared off to where Kyle was pointing. And there, standing beside the bus, wearing a skirt and button-down top and carrying a regular backpack, was Sparrow.

“Isn't that—?” Kyle said.

“It is.” I jogged over to Sparrow. A smile beamed across my face. I couldn't say the same for her; she looked as though her clothes might have well been made out of wasp stingers.

“I don't know how you people can wear things like this every day,” Sparrow said.

“What do you mean? They're just clothes.”

“Ugh, regular fibers are like wearing chicken wire. I'd go crazy if I had to wear wretched things like this every day.”

“I don't know, I guess we just do.”

“Well, until you've worn a uniform made out of Certivan fibers, you don't know what comfortable is.”

“Certivan fibers?” I asked.

“It's what all SNURP uniforms are made from. Most comfortable, elastic, and breathable material in the world. Feels like you're wearing tissue paper, only it weighs less and can deflect small arms fire. Costs about twenty thousand dollars a suit.”

“Wow,” I said. “Where can I get one of those suits?”

“You can't,” Sparrow said. She waited a moment, then added, “Unless you're a member of SNURP.”

I sighed. “A boy can dream.”

I toed the ground, not sure of what to say. I was glad to see Sparrow again, but it also reminded me of all the adventures I would never have.

“So what do you say, Zeke?” she said.

“What do you mean, what do I say?”

“Well, when I got back to HQ yesterday, I filled my bosses in on the kid who was responsible for saving the world. For taking down Le Carré and Ragnarok and preventing millions of kids from getting brainwashed by those PB&J drones.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You did a great job. The world owes you a debt of gratitude.”

“Not me, stupid. You.” She jabbed her thumb into yet another one of my bruises. (I swear, they must have been glowing or something.)

“Muh…muh…me?” I stammered.

“Yes, you, stupid.”

“I don't understand,” I said, feeling like my heart was on fire. “Why me?”

“Well,” Sparrow answered, scratching at her clothing like it contained live insects. “You can't fight. You're not very skilled with traditional weaponry.”

“Duly noted,” I said under my breath.

“You're not very big. You're not very strong. And you don't run very fast.”

“Okay, if you're just going to insult me…”

“But what you
do
have,” Sparrow said, “is resolve. You have an incredible resilience that I haven't seen in many SNURP trainees. Much of the other things we can teach. We can teach you how to fight. How to disarm. How to disappear. How to evade capture. But you cannot teach someone heart. And that is why we want you to join us.”

I smiled. My heart was beating like a hummingbird's wings. I didn't know what to say.

“Now, think about this before you say anything. If you accept,” Sparrow said, “your life will never be the same. You will receive training that will test every fiber of your being. You will be challenged physically and mentally to degrees you never thought possible. You will say good-bye to your old life and begin a new one.”

“Wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Are you saying—?”

“I've been given authorization to make you an offer to join the elite SNURP training program. Only the best and brightest kids from all over the world are asked to join. You will become a trainee in the most elite spy program in the world. You've proven yourself worthy this one time, Zeke. Now, are you willing to prove it the rest of your life?”

“Wait, are you serious?” I said.

“Do you see the clothes I'm wearing?” Sparrow said. “Do you
think
I would put on such awful clothes if I didn't have a job to do? You proved yourself resourceful. You have a lot of work to do, Zeke, if you say yes. Well, what's your answer?”

I didn't say a word, but instead threw my arms around Sparrow and gave her the biggest hug of my life. She pushed away from me, coughed, and smoothed out her clothing.

“Rule number one: no hugging in SNURP. You will act professional.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Sparrow handed me a card. There was an address written on it.

“One month from today you will arrive at this address at exactly nine o'clock in the morning. Your school year will be finished. You will tell your father you've gotten a scholarship to the Camp Crystal Lagoon summer camp. We will provide all necessary paperwork and documentation to back up your claim.”

“I'll be there,” I said.

“Your training will start then.”

“I can't wait.”

Sparrow put out her hand. I looked at it, then shook it.

“You do know that you destroyed SirEebro, a piece of equipment valued at close to a billion dollars.”

I gulped. “Um, are they going to bill me or something?”

Sparrow smiled. “Not literally. But I'm sure Master Zhen will make you pay for it in training.

“Master Zhen?”

“You'll meet him soon. He'll teach you fighting techniques that have saved my life dozens of times. Provided you don't mind having every one of your limbs bent like a pretzel.”

“I, um, can't wait.”

Sparrow nodded at me respectfully. “Good luck, Sea Otter.”

“Sea otter?” I said, confused.

“The day you begin your training, you will be given the rank of sea otter.”

“Um, not exactly the most dangerous or intimidating animal. Can't we go with polar bear or wombat or something?”