Andrew North Blows Up the World (9 page)

I walked over to sit next to him. He was in the back with his feet on his desk, sipping an orange drink and wearing his usual white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Mrs. Wellington would probably be mad at him for not wearing something nicer, but cool guys like Ryan don’t care what people like her think.

“I have to get out of here,” I said.

“I don’t blame you,” Ryan said. “It’s a good thing for you you’re my best customer. If you didn’t buy so many insults from me, I’d really be letting you have it right now for that sweater!”

When you buy insults from Ryan Kowalski, you don’t just get insults. You get protection!

“I know!” I said. “But that’s not it. I’ve got to get out of this classroom. It’s life or death!”

“Really?” he said. “You’re that nervous about singing a solo?”

“It’s worse than that,” I said. “I think there’s a good
chance Mr. Gormulka might be plotting to kidnap me while I’m going onstage and feed me to sharks!”

Ryan looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s true!” I said. “I’m not sure about the sharks, but I’m almost sure that he’s planning to murder me tonight. He might even try to blow up the whole school!”

Ryan laughed and ran his hand through his slicked-back hair. “You didn’t think I was serious about that, did you?” he asked. “I’ve heard there are comic books in there, but I just made that other stuff up because Tony Zunker was there. I didn’t think you’d
both
believe it!”

“But it’s
true!”
I said. “I don’t know exactly what’s in that room, except for all the comic books, but I know that Mr. Gormulka guards it just as much as people say, and I have a good reason to think he’s planning to kill me tonight. You’ve got to believe me!”

He shrugged, but I could tell he still thought it was funny. “Hey, man, if you’re serious, I believe you,” he said. “I told you, you hear some crazy stuff when you’re on the inside. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“So I need to get out of here,” I said. “It’s not safe for
anyone
for me to be here. I just need a disturbance so I can sneak out of the room.”

“You need someone to distract Mr. Summers?” he asked. “Piece of cake. Watch!”

He put his feet down, sat up, and raised his hand. He kept it up for a minute or so before Mr. Summers even noticed.

“Ryan?” he said. “Are you actually raising your hand before talking for once, now that we’re not actually in class?”

“I just have a math question,” said Ryan.

Mr. Summers’s eyes lit up. It was almost like he had a lightbulb implanted in his brain that switched on every time someone mentioned math.

“Let me have it!” said Mr. Summers.

“Can you show me how to multiply fractions?” he asked. “I’m baking a cake tomorrow, but I’m only doing two-thirds of the recipe.”

Mr. Summers jumped up from his seat. “Oh boy!” he said. “Multiplying fractions is really more of a sixth-grade thing— I
never
get to teach sixth-grade math!”

He ran up to the board, and Ryan leaned over to me. “I have a brother in sixth grade,” he whispered, “and I looked through his math book. Any time you want to distract Mr. Summers, just ask him about something from the sixth-grade math book.”

Mr. Summers began to draw all over the marker board, talking about a mile a minute. I’d hardly ever seen him so excited!

“Now, the bottom number in a fraction is the denominator,” said Mr. Summers. “If it’s easier for you to remember it by calling it the de-bottom-ator, go right ahead.”

Ryan leaned over to me. “There you go,” he said. “Run. He’ll never notice!”

And I stood up and slipped out of the room. Anyone could have. Abraham Lincoln himself could have stepped
into the room, given a speech, and left, and Mr. Summers probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Ryan Kowalski is a genius! All that extra time he spent in the classroom was really paying off.

I ran out of the room and into the cool safety of the hall-way. In a minute, they’d be lining everyone up to take the stage. When they couldn’t find me, they’d probably think I was just too nervous to sing the solo.

Which was only partly true.

Someone else could handle it. They’d probably get Melvin Purvis in. That kid might be a dork, but he sure can sing. The only reason
he
didn’t get to do the solo is that he didn’t want to. He gets really nervous singing in public. But in an emergency, he’d probably step in. He’d nail the solo and everyone would think he was a hero. They wouldn’t know that the
real
hero was a kid in a cutesy-wootsy sweater who had kept everyone from getting blown up. That’s life as a spy for you! You never really get the credit you deserve.

I ran around the corner and hid out for a minute, listening to the sound of the first graders singing in the auditorium. Just as the second graders were going on, I heard the sound of my class being marched out of the classroom toward the auditorium, where they’d stand backstage until the last class of second graders was done singing. Someone was shouting, “Where’s Andrew?” and someone else was saying, “Melvin can sing his part. He’s a good singer!”

I knew my parents would probably freak out when they saw I wasn’t onstage. Dad and Jack might even spring into
action, run out into the halls, and get into a fight with Mr. Gormulka. That would be ideal, because I could probably use some backup.

A few seconds later, my class had gone by. Mr. Gormulka was probably backstage, wondering where that superspy he was going to kill had wandered off to. Ha!
It’s not going to be that easy, Mr. G—if that
is
your real name!

I had the whole school to myself. It was the perfect chance to get into Storage Room B and see if the calculator was still there. If I could nab it now, then by the time Mr. Gormulka even knew he’d been foiled, I’d be safely at home, trying to explain to my parents why I hadn’t been onstage. I ran into the second-grade hall and up to the door to Storage Room B.

That’s when I froze.

What if there really were booby traps in there? What if I got hit by a flying arrow or a death ray as soon as I stepped inside?

Then I heard it. Totally creepy whistling, coming from the next hallway. “The Pennsylvania Polka.”

Mr. Gormulka!

It was too late to run. I felt all the blood drain from my face as he turned into the second-grade hall. He stopped whistling the second he saw me. This was it! I was shark food for sure!

“North!” he shouted. “I warned you not to be poking around here again!”

Agent North had used every gadget he had, even the monkey-poop cleaner. He had used up the batteries in the pants-dropping whistle to stop the robot guards. That had been a particularly lucky break: if those robots hadn’t been wearing pants, North would have been a goner!

But now there were no more gadgets. Dave the Monkey was back in the flying car, trying to dismantle a bomb. There was no one left in the fortress but Agent North and the evil Dr. Cringe, who stared down at North with murderous eyes.

There was only one thing left to do.

Run!

“I … I wasn’t going to the storage room,” I said. “I just happened to be in the same hall.”

Mr. Gormulka tossed his rag onto the floor and started running toward me. I could tell he was furious.

“Don’t give me any nonsense, North!” said Mr. Gormulka. “You’re in for it now!”

What could I do? I ran!

I turned back and took off at full speed. All the while, I could hear Mr. Gormulka chasing me. His footsteps echoed down the hall and mixed with the sound of the second graders singing in the auditorium.

I turned into the gym, trying to lose him, and ran clear over to the basketball hoop, but he followed me right in.

It was a dumb move. Now I was trapped! I stood beneath the basketball hoop, and Mr. Gormulka stood just inside the doorway. We stared at each other from across the gym, and I prayed that he didn’t have some sort of laser watch that he could fire at me from where he was. I never should have run in here. There was only one way out, and Mr. Gormulka was blocking it.

At least it gave me a chance to look him over. The calculator was big enough that he couldn’t have hidden it in his pocket, and he didn’t seem to be carrying it. He must have left it in Storage Room B. At least I had
that
going for me.

“Get back here, North!” Mr. Gormulka said. “I warned you about going near that room.”

I decided I had only one choice: pull evasive action. Jack
had taught me how to do that. I put my hands up, like I was surrendering, and started walking toward him.

“I give up,” I said. “I’ll go quietly.”

“That’s better,” he said. And he started walking toward me, like he was going to meet me in the middle of the gym.

Once he was safely away from the door, I started running again. I ran right past him, out the door, and into the hall, slamming the door behind me.

I had turned into the next hall by the time I heard Mr. Gormulka running out of the gym. That gave me enough of a head start that I was home free, if I could just find a safe place to hide!

I kept running, right in the direction of the auditorium, hoping that Dad and Jack would spring out of nowhere with laser flamethrowers. But instead, Mrs. Wellington stepped out from around the corner. We both stopped running the second we saw her. Running in the halls in front of Mrs. Wellington was too risky even for Mr. Gormulka!

“Hank!” she said. “Where have you been? The program is half over, and the ‘Donate Here’ sign isn’t up above the table. Get moving!”

“I have to deal with a student,” he growled.

“Do it later!” said Mrs. Wellington. “That sign has to go up
now
. Come on!”

Mr. Gormulka grumbled, and Mrs. Wellington turned over to look at me.

“And you!” she said. “Hurry up! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I just had to tell Mr. Gormulka about the sign,” I lied. It was probably the worst lie I ever told, but she was too busy freaking out to notice.

“Let Mr. Gormulka and me deal with that, you go get backstage! Let’s go, Hank. The sign is in my office. After that, I’ll need you to mop up the lobby quickly, before any parents come out. Their feet really scuffed up the floor on the way in!”

And they walked off toward the office. Mr. Gormulka shot me a dirty look, but I knew that he was going to be occupied for a few minutes. Mrs. Wellington wasn’t going to let him out of her sight for the rest of the program. He might still be able to get the calculator out later and blow up the school before the program ended, but I was going to be safe for a few minutes! And there was no way he could kidnap me if I was onstage. I could make another run for Storage Room B after I sang. It looked like I’d be singing the solo after all!

I ran to the auditorium. The second graders were just finishing up, and my class was still lining up, ready to go onto the risers onstage. Nicole and Madison were standing off to the side, and Melvin was standing there with them, looking really, really nervous. He was wearing a really nice suit. If he’d gone on, Dad’s boss might have thought he was me. But he didn’t look as sharp as I would have looked in a suit as nice as his. He looked like he was going to be sick.

I ran up to where they were standing.

“Andrew!” said Melvin. “Where the heck were you?”

“I got a bit sidetracked,” I said, cool as you please. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I was going to go on in your place!” said Melvin. “Mr. Summers was panicking!”

“You want to sing the solo for me?” I asked. “You still can if you want to. You’re better dressed for it than I am.”

“No way!” said Melvin. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life! I was going to sue you if I had to sing the solo.”

“All right,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll do it.”

“And you’d better not screw up!” said Nicole.

I looked at her. What did she know? Why should I be nervous about singing a stupid song? I’d just escaped from a dangerous supervillain and maybe even saved her butt from getting blown to smithereens!

All of a sudden, I wasn’t scared of singing anymore. In fact, I’d never felt so alive! I had escaped from Mr. Gormulka without a single spy gadget or monkey to help me. As Aunt Brianna would have said, I had been reborn!

A minute later, we were onstage. Madison, Nicole, and I stood in front, ready to go up to the microphone for the solos. Melvin stood on the risers with everyone else.

I looked out at the crowd and saw my whole family there. Aunt Brianna stood up and started cheering when the three of us stepped to the microphone for the solos in “Kids Are Music.” I wondered which person was Dad’s boss from the spy headquarters. Whoever he was, he was looking at a kid who’d just successfully escaped from an enemy spy!

Back behind them, I could see the lobby through the doors. Mr. Gormulka was out there, helping Mrs. Wellington put up the sign. So far, we were still safe.

When I stepped up to the microphone for my solo, I nailed every single note. I’d never done it better! We blew the crowd away, if I do say so myself. When the song ended, everyone cheered, and I stepped back onto the risers feeling like a million bucks. I didn’t even mind the fact that I was wearing a stupid sweater or how stupid we must have looked singing “The Cornersville West Rap.” I could have done the whole thing in a bunny suit and still felt like the coolest guy in town!

After the rap ended, we filed off the risers, right past Mr. Gormulka. I worried that he might grab me, but just before we got to him, Mrs. Wellington ran up to him.

Mr. Summers led us down the hall toward the class. We gave each other high fives on a job well done while Mrs. Kingfield’s class walked onto the stage to sing “How You Gonna Keep ’Em Down on the Farm.” While they sang, I sang it the way Todd did, and everyone cracked up until Mr. Summers told me to knock it off.

“Man,” said Tony Zunker as we walked up to the class-room door, “I’m glad that’s over!”

“Pretty cool, huh?” I asked.

“I’m sure glad you showed up, Andrew,” said Melvin, who was right in front of me. “I really thought I was going to be sick!”