Crisis Zero (14 page)

T
HE BUS RIDE TO SCHOOL THE NEXT MORNING TOOK FOREVER.
I was exhausted, having lain awake all night thinking about Dillon. Could he really be working with Medlock? If so, why? And what would I find when I got to school? Would I be able to keep a straight face with Dillon and Danielle? Was the Agency going to assault the school and take out Ms. Pullman? Does the school even exist, or had it really just been a hologram the whole time? Maybe I was even more tired than I thought.

I'd debated calling Danielle that night after getting
home, but had decided against it. It would have been disobeying a direct order, after all.

Great secret agents didn't disobey direct orders. Though I wasn't sure I even qualified as a competent secret agent anymore.

When the bus finally pulled into the parking lot, the school looked just as it always did in the morning. Kids hurried inside the doors trying to escape the harsh cold. I did the same thing. I went to my locker like usual, and then found my way to homeroom like usual. And the day continued, like usual. No Agency raids, no disappearing kids or teachers.

I even spotted Dillon once in the hallway. It was only from a distance—he hadn't seen me. Which was good because then I didn't need to avoid him or pretend to have not seen him. It really wasn't all that unusual for us to not see or talk to each other until lunch, especially lately with how distracted we'd both been.

That's when it occurred to me that his recent Master Theory had probably been code for his plan with Medlock. I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone completely dry, so I just coughed instead.

It was right in the middle of second period when the shoe finally dropped. It started with the intercom in
our classroom crackling on.

“Mr. Wright?” the secretary's voice said.

“Yes?” Mr. Wright answered.

“Can you please send Carson Fender down to the office?”

“Sure thing.” Mr. Wright and every kid in the class turned to look at me.

“Make sure he brings all of his things. He won't be returning today,” the secretary added.

“You heard the lady, Mr. Fender,” he said without getting up from his desk.

I ignored the stares of my classmates as I trudged out of the classroom. This wasn't an unusual occurrence. I got called down to the office a lot. But it felt different this time. Darker. As if this were all happening in a movie and some sort of eerie filter was on the lens.

Somehow, I think I knew I was doomed before I even got down to the administration office.

“Head on in,” Mrs. Bradshaw said, motioning toward Ms. Pullman's office.

Her usual smile and bright eyes were absent. Instead she looked at me coldly, as if I were a dead fish and not a student. That was the second sign that something was seriously wrong.

Upon entering Ms. Pullman's office, my true fate became immediately apparent.

Both my mom and dad were already there, seated across from Ms. Pullman. It was rare to get my dad away from work. It would have probably taken either a death in the family or else . . .

My dad glared at me.

My mom was crying.

And right then I knew I was finally going to be expelled.

I
T WAS LIKE DÉJÀ VU FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE, SITTING THERE
in Ms. Pullman's office watching a video on her computer monitor. Except now, instead of Agent Nineteen and Director Isadoris looking on, it was my parents. And instead of it being a video of a kid giving up his spy contact, it was a security video of me breaking into Ms. Pullman's office.

She had video evidence. There would be no lying my way out of this.

So I had to deal with the uncomfortable business of
watching my parents watch me commit the ultimate offense. A criminal offense. While at the same time, I had to sit there and pretend that Ms. Pullman wasn't what she really was: one of the most brilliant evil masterminds I'd ever known. Even now that she knew that I must know her secret, she kept up the act like a true pro.

“What exactly were you doing?” she asked me. “And why would you take the parking lot project blueprints?”

She actually looked upset, like she wanted to cry. Like all those things she'd written about me in her file were true and not just a part of her cover.

“Does it matter?” I asked. “Will it change how this ends?”

My answer just made my mom sob harder. My dad's hand gripped the seat back behind me so hard, I thought the wood might splinter in his hand.

“Well,” Ms. Pullman said softly, “it might affect whether I decide to pursue criminal charges or just leave this at a simple expulsion.”

“I was . . .” I stopped, not sure what to say.

Technically I had only taken the blueprints. I hadn't pulled a prank or vandalized anything. So what good reason was there for me to break into her office, mess around on her computer, and then take some random
construction materials? It ultimately didn't matter what I said, since she likely knew the real reason. But at the same time, I could make a good show in front of my parents.

“I was trying to break into the computer to change my grades,” I finally finished. It was a believable lie. My grades had basically fallen off a cliff since I'd become a secret agent. “And I only took the blueprints to hide my tracks. A diversion of sorts.”

“Carson, what do I always tell you about shortcuts and hard work?” my dad said, his teeth clenched.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said, forgetting exactly how his lame saying went.

“Regardless,” Ms. Pullman said, somehow taking command of the room again in spite of the fact that she was speaking the softest of everyone, “you had to have known breaking into my computer wouldn't actually work, right, Carson? We both know how smart you really are.”

My mom looked up briefly at the compliment, but then looked down and dabbed at her eyes again.

“Moving on,” Ms. Pullman said. “We saw someone else on the security footage from outside my office. I'd like you to tell me who it was.”

It was true that Danielle could be seen on one of the
outside security cameras. But it had been dark. The outside camera shots must have been inconclusive, which is why I was the only one here.

“No one,” I said.

“Carson!” my dad said. “If you were doing this with someone else, you are going to tell us who, right now.”

I sat there and said nothing. I didn't care if they threatened to arrest me right there on the spot. There was nothing they could say or do that would make me give up Danielle. It felt like her trust in me was the last honest thing left in my life. I needed to hold on to it for all I was worth or I'd likely never be able to trust another person ever again.

“It's probably his little friend,” my dad said to Ms. Pullman. “You know, that little weird one. Danny?”

Most parents probably knew their kids' best friends. But my dad was hardly ever around. He was always working and so he actually knew very little about my friends. Even less now that I had become a secret agent.

“
Dillon
,” I said. “His name is Dillon and he isn't really my friend anymore.”

“What if I told you the difference between the school pressing criminal charges or not would be you telling us who your associate is?” Ms. Pullman said. “Would you tell me then?”

“So you're blackmailing me now?” I said.

My mom gasped, and my dad sat there, opening and closing his mouth as his face got more and more red. I knew I was being aggressive. But I was just so tired of being lied to by everyone that I didn't care anymore. Ms. Pullman could go lick an old boot, as Olek might have said were he there. That was a friend I knew I could always trust. Olek was about as straight up honest as anyone I'd ever met. I'd have done anything to have been able to see him right about then.

“Watch your mouth,” my dad finally said. “You're already in very big trouble as it is.”

“Gee, you think?” I said, not being able to help myself. “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.”

“Carson!” my mom sobbed.

“I'm sorry,” I said, meaning it. “Dad, Mom, I am really sorry. I'm just . . . I didn't mean for this to happen. I made a mistake. But no matter what you threaten me with, no matter what you say, I'm not ratting out my friend. They helped me because I asked them to. It wasn't their idea. It was all mine. It'd be wrong to get them in trouble.”

Ms. Pullman looked at me, and there was something strange behind her expression. Like always, I had no idea what she was thinking.

“Very well, then,” she finally said. “I'll be getting in touch with the local authorities. I'm sorry it had to end this way. I truly am.”

I couldn't even look at her as she said this. Because we both knew that wasn't true. It was just another filthy lie. I'd heard so many of them now that I practically couldn't tell the difference anymore.

I
T WAS ON THE CAR RIDE HOME THAT THE REAL UGLY TRUTH HIT
me: The Agency had known I was getting expelled. That had been what Director Isadoris and Agent Nineteen had hinted at the night before. But I suppose it would have been too much for me to expect them to stop it somehow.

But I do wish they could have at least warned me. I could have handled the news. Probably. Either way, I was annoyed that they would even ask me to complete another mission breaking into school property being that close to expulsion. And they had to have known
about the school's new security cameras.

“Are you listening to me?” my dad said from the front seat.

My mom was following us in her own car. My dad had insisted on me riding with him. He wanted to spend the car ride home yelling at me so he could get back to the office as soon as he dropped me off.

“Sorry,” I mumbled from the backseat.

“That's all you have to say?” he said. “I just told you that you're being sent away to military school in the morning and all you can offer is a limp
sorry
?”

“Wait, what?” I said.

“Yeah, that's right, Carson,” he said. “First thing tomorrow morning you're off to Nebraska. You'll be attending the Omaha Military Reformation Academy for Boys. So you'd better spend the rest of your day packing.”

This news hit me like a punch to my gut. I was done. Finished as an agent. Finished as a student. Finished as a member of my family. I'd be out of the picture in less than twenty-four hours.

But it still left me with enough time to complete my one final mission: helping the Agency capture my best friend. Or
former
best friend.

“We're hoping the judge will be lenient if he knows
you're attending a military reform school,” my dad said.

I sighed.

“Yeah,” my dad agreed, “you really botched this one.”

I was tired of listening to him lecture me. So I said nothing else, hoping he'd shut up. But he didn't. He just kept going. Not that I would keep listening.

Instead, I pulled out my phone.

“What's that?” my dad yelled from the front as we pulled into the driveway. He looked back and saw me looking at my phone. “No you don't.”

He reached back and snatched it from my hands. Then he got out of the car and smashed my phone on the driveway. He stomped on it several times until it was in at least fifty-three pieces. He pointed a finger at me through the windshield.

“No more phone, no more internet, no more computer,” he said. “Go to your room and pack and then stay there until dinner. Got it?”

I nodded and got out of the car. Though, the truth was, I had no intention of obeying his orders. I'd have to sneak out of my house a little later on if I was going to make it to the meeting with Dillon.

A
T 2:37 P.M., I SET MY PLAN IN MOTION.

It started by placing a phone call to our house phone. Which was a lot harder than it might sound, because my dad had smashed my cell phone to pieces, then he had taken my computer, TV, PlayStation, and landline phone out of my room before he'd left.

But, thankfully, he had forgotten about the handheld gaming system I had stashed in my bedroom closet. It was hard to blame him, though; he was never really around to see me playing it.

Besides, even if he had remembered I had one, he likely had no idea what it was capable of. I'd pulled it from the closet after getting to my room, connected to our house Wi-Fi, and downloaded the Skype app. I was then able to call my parents landline phone later that afternoon. Thus began phase one of my escape plan.

My escape had to be arranged so precisely because my psychotic dad had actually superglued my bedroom window closed before he left to go back to work. And my mom was sitting out in the basement den watching TV with a full view of my bedroom door and plenty close enough to the stairs to block them before I could run past her.

We had a cordless phone, but I knew my mom wouldn't have it downstairs with her since nobody ever called the landline anymore. Honestly, I'm not even sure why my parents still had one.

My hunch paid off. I heard my mom get up and run upstairs to answer the phone a short time after I'd dialed the number. This was it; I needed to make my move, I'd only have a few seconds.

I set down my gaming system with the call still connected and then ran out into the basement den.

“Hello?” I heard my mom say upstairs. “Helloo-ooo?”

She had already answered the phone. Man, she'd gotten there quickly. Did the prospect of getting a call on the landline really excite her that much that she felt the need to run to answer it? Either way, it meant I had mere seconds before she'd be back down here and the whole thing would be a bust.

“Hello? Anyone? Is anyone there? Is that you, Mom? Is your mute button on again?”

I ran over to the fireplace and pulled open the glass doors slowly so they wouldn't creak.

“Who's calling?” she said loudly. “This is your last chance before I hang up.”

I climbed inside the fireplace. It was a lot tighter squeeze than I expected. But I fit, sort of, and that's what mattered. I pushed at the outer folds of the glass doors until they would appear closed at a glance. Then I pressed my palms against the inside of the chimney. It felt grainy with soot. I could barely breathe and already I could feel sweat trickling down the back of my neck in spite of the drafts of cold winter air gusting down on me.

I tried not to cough as I wedged my feet against the inside of the chimney and inched my way up. Loose soot and dirt fell around me, into my face and hair. Slowly but surely I worked my way up the narrow chimney.

The irony, of course, was that had it been any wider it would have been a lot harder to climb. But it was so narrow that I would have had to
try
to actually fall back down it. So I could stop and rest as much as I needed, wedged in the narrow space, without having to worry about losing any progress. And I needed to rest a lot, because climbing up a chimney is as hard as it sounds times a hundred.

But it was necessary.

I had one last Agency mission to complete, after all.

About halfway up, the coughing started. I just couldn't hold it in any longer. My lungs burned from all of the ash in my mouth. My knees and hands ached from the constant pressure of pushing up my body weight inside the old brick chimney. But still I pushed on.

The last part, pulling myself completely free from the small chimney opening, turned out to be the hardest part. My muscles were completely spent from the climb. I rolled off the chimney into the snow on the slanted roof. It was deep enough to keep me from sliding down the slope and onto the pavement below me. My arms and legs and face were covered in black ash. I looked like I'd been tarred and feathered except that the guys doing it had forgotten the feathers. But, oddly enough, the soot
jacket seemed to be helping with the cold somewhat.

After crawling my way toward the edge of the roof, I peered over the side. Our house was just two stories, but from the top it felt like it was ten. I worked my way over to the gutter drainpipe that ran down the side between the house and the garage. I had no idea if it could hold my weight, but the only alternative was to simply jump. And that certainly didn't seem like something I could do without breaking several dozen bones. While still on my hands and knees, I grabbed the lip of the gutter and slowly swung one leg over the side of the house. I froze, not really sure if I actually wanted to put the other leg over the edge.

Don't look down.

Don't look down.

Whatever you do, Carson, don't look down.

I looked down.

The white snow spun below me. I felt like I was going to pass out. I managed to snap out of it before I did, but the damage was already done. My hand slipped on the slick, ice-coated roof and then I went sliding off the edge.