Zeke Bartholomew (16 page)

“That's the point. You start at the very bottom of the food chain. You might have done well this time, Zeke, but a SNURP agent does not rest on his laurels. You begin as a sea otter. Warm and cuddly. As you prove yourself, you will rise through the ranks. You will become more skilled. More dangerous. And then, only then, will you be feared.”

“And then maybe I get ditch the whole sea otter thing. What rank are you?” I asked.

Sparrow just smiled. “Enjoy the rest of the school year, Zeke. Be ready. Keep it a secret. Even from your closest friends and family. You have no idea what you're in for.”

Then Sparrow began to walk away.

“Hey!” I called out. She turned around. “You never told me your name.”

Sparrow just smiled and said, “One month, Bartholomew. Get ready.”

I watched her as she crossed the street and disappeared.

Kyle joined me. I was still standing there, dumbstruck.

“What did she say?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just saying good-bye and thanks. She also told me how brave and handsome I am.”

“You're lying.”

“I am.”

Kyle laughed. “Come on, Zeke. Back to our boring lives.”

As we boarded the school bus, I said to Kyle, “You know, I'm thinking about going to summer camp this year.”

Two days later. Just a normal kid again. Sigh. Time for more meatloaf…

The school bus pulled up in front of my house. I said good-bye to Kyle and limped my way down the stairs. For some reason, my house looked newer. The colors brighter. The grass more inviting. This was the first day of the rest of my life.

My dad greeted me inside.

“Hey, Zeke, how was school?”

“Same old, same old.”

“That's nice. Hey, you know that family that just moved in next door? You know, the old Wickersham place?”

I turned to him, hesitant. “Yeah…”

“Well, they're gone already.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. A bunch of vans pulled up this morning, took everything but the kitchen sink out, and left. Guess the place wasn't what they thought it would be.”

I looked out the window. All the security cameras were gone. There was no sign of life. “No. I guess not.”

“Oh, well. One less neighbor to borrow sugar from.”

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yes, Zeke?”

“I was thinking about going to summer camp this year.”

My dad smiled. “I think that's a great idea. Experience the outdoors. Have some adventures. What brought this on?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said dreamily. “Just about time I start living.”

“Well, I'm all in favor. We can talk about it later.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Oh, and, Zeke, somebody dropped this off for you today.”

He handed me a small package, crudely wrapped. There was nothing written on it except for my name in large Magic Marker.

“I'm gonna go read a book. Glad you're home, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

My heart was bursting out of my chest. It was from Sparrow, I knew it. Information about SNURP and my summer camp cover.

I tore open the package, unable to contain my joy with what I would find.

Only there were no pamphlets inside. There was an item inside the package.

My mouth went dry as I removed it. Looked at it. Turned it over in my hands. I knew exactly what it was, and who it was from.

Inside the package was a pair of broken sunglasses. And attached to the sunglasses was a note with six simple words that made my blood run cold:

You're going to pay for these. —D. L.

Zeke: Put on the sunglasses I have enclosed in the envelope.

Zeke: The sunglasses you are currently wearing are optically tailored to your genetic makeup. The page you are reading right now can only be viewed while wearing these glasses, and to anyone else they will appear in look and function like any ordinary cheap sunglasses. Still, your discretion cannot be overstated.

Starting June 15, you will begin your training. It will not be easy. We will test your mind, your body, and your spirit in ways you cannot imagine. You have been chosen to participate in this program with some of the most talented young spy prodigies in the entire world. Your success depends on your ability to function both as an individual and as part of a group.

You will be picked up at 10:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time on the morning of June 15. Your transportation will appear as an ordinary school bus. But I assure you, there is nothing ordinary about it.

Your front is that you will be attending summer camp, specifically Camp Crystal Lagoon in New Hampshire. This camp does not exist, but we have created a facade that will quell doubts of any parents or friends. You are required to pack clothing, accessories, and toiletries as though you will be attending summer camp. None of these articles will come into use during your training; they merely add to your cover as a camper. All clothing and equipment will be provided to you by SNURP at the appropriate times during your training.

We are eager to begin your training, Zeke Bartholomew. As I have stated, you will begin with the rank of Sea Otter. As you progress in your career, your title will grow as you do. Stay smart. Stay safe. And get ready for the ride of your life.

Sincerely,

Sparrow

When you end the school year saving the world from an evil mastermind bent on world domination while nearly getting blown to bits in a hundred different ways, what do you do during the summer between seventh and eighth grade? Well in my case, you go to summer camp.

Okay, that's not entirely true. You see, going to summer camp was the cover story I had to tell my dad and all my friends at school (namely Kyle Quint, who was pretty much my only friend). According to the story, I would be spending close to three months at Camp Crystal Lagoon, a bucolic place nestled in the peaceful woods of New Hampshire. At Crystal Lagoon, I would learn arts and crafts, play handball, go rock climbing, and sit around campfires making s'mores. Yup, a pretty normal summer for a twelve-year-old.

Only none of it was true.

The truth of the matter is that I wasn't going to summer camp. Camp Crystal Lagoon didn't exist beyond a website and some professional-looking brochures, full of smiling kids and happy counselors. Where I was really going for the summer was a matter of national security. Seriously.

After I saved the world (yeah, I had to say it again, because, hey, it sounds pretty cool to say), I was offered a spot as an official trainee of the secret spy organization SNURP, which stands for Strategic National Underground Reconnaissance Project. SNURP is a top-secret spy agency, and one of their top spies, a girl my age named Sparrow, who'd helped me save the world (I'm never going to get tired of that), asked if I would take part.

She told me it would be like nothing I'd ever experienced. That my mind and body would be pushed to the breaking point. That there would be days I'd wish I'd never been born and nights where I'd cry for home. So, naturally, I said yes.

You see, I've always been something of a dreamer. Up until a few months ago, the most exciting moment of my life was accidentally setting my underwear on fire during a terrible Bunsen burner accident during science class. But that all changed.

I'm not a kid anyone would describe as special. I'm not that tall and not especially athletic; I have reddish brown hair that looks like the victim of a particularly nasty weed whacker; and I often get picked for sports teams after inanimate objects like mops and cleaning supplies. Yet for some reason Sparrow saw something in me, and invited me to go away for the summer to see if I had what it took to become a real spy.

So right now I'm sitting in my room at 5 Sunnyvale Drive, packing heaps of clothing and accessories into a duffel bag to take with me to SNURP headquarters. I don't know where the headquarters is, but I was instructed by Sparrow to bring clothing and personal effects that one might take to summer camp. Not that I would be needing my iPod or an e-reader or comic books or a stationary set, but I had to give the impression that I really was going away for summer camp.

I was scheduled to be picked up in ten minutes, so I was double-checking to make sure I had everything I didn't need. There was a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said.

The door pushed inward, and my dad stood there. He was wearing tattered jeans and a T-shirt. There was a smile on his face that was a mixture of pride and sadness.

“Almost done packing?” he asked. “The bus should be here any minute.”

“Just about,” I replied, pounding the duffel so I could close it. My dad stepped into the room. He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Can't believe you're going away for so long,” he said. “But I'm glad you're going. This will be good for you. Get away, get in touch with nature, meet some new friends.”

“Yeah. Nature.” I couldn't tell my dad that instead of studying trees I would likely spend most mornings being beaten to a pulp by Sparrow and the SNURP staff. But I felt good. I'd actually been exercising, to train for this day. I'd gotten up to three miles on the treadmill—not too shabby for someone who used to get out of breath carrying his lunch tray twenty feet. This was a day I'd literally dreamed about my whole life. The chance to do something great. Or at least try to do something great before failing miserably.

“I'm gonna miss you, Zeke,” my dad said.

“Aw, come on, Dad, I'll be back. And I'll write.”

“You'd better,” he said, laughing.

I loved my dad more than anything. Ever since my mom died when I was five, we were all we had. He devoted his life to providing a home for me, for being there for me. I think he'd dated here and there, but I think he saw us as a unit, a family, and never wanted to put anyone ahead of me. Including himself.

“Have fun this summer, Dad,” I said. “Go, like, dancing or something.”

“Dancing?” he asked.

“I don't know, what do old people do for fun?”

“Oh, so I'm old now?” he said, messing with my hair, which I think actually made it look better. “I'll be fine. You be safe. And wear bug spray. I got Lyme disease once and it was no picnic.”

“Wear bug spray. Check. Thanks, Dad.”

He simply smiled. I wasn't sure what to say. This would be the longest I'd gone without seeing my dad in my whole life. And for some reason, I was just as worried about him as he was about me.

A horn blared outside. We checked the window. A long, yellow school bus was parked outside of our driveway. I could see dozens of faces of young kids peering out. Talking. Laughing. Were these the other SNURP trainees? Sure seemed like there were a lot of them.

“Come on, Zeke,” my dad said. “Let's see you off.”

He went to pick up my duffel, but I stopped him. “I got it.”

“Of course,” he said. “Keep forgetting you're not a little kid anymore.”

We went downstairs and outside. My dad walked me to the end of the driveway. The school bus door opened. The driver was a bored-looking man who didn't even bother to look at me. I could hear all the other kids. I wondered who they were. What their gifts were. How I would fit in.

“Good-bye, son,” my dad said. “You're not too old to give your dad a hug, are you?”

“Of course not.” I wrapped my arms around my father and squeezed him tight. I heard him choke back a sob. Then I let go and boarded the bus to my destiny.

The door closed behind me, and the bus peeled off. I walked down the aisle looking for a seat. Strangely, none of the kids seemed to notice me or pay me any attention. Did I smell strange or something?

Then, something really strange happened…

When we rounded the corner, there was an electronic humming sound and all the kids disappeared. Like, there one second, gone the next. I was alone on the bus. I turned back to ask the driver what was going on…but there was no driver. The bus was operating automatically. The kids and the driver were an electrical projection to keep up appearances.

“Whoa…” I muttered.

“
Ezekiel
J. Bartholomew
,” a voice said. I recognized it. Sparrow. “
Sit down anywhere.
”

I slid into the nearest seat. The moment I sat down, a small screen opened in front of me, and a video began to play.

On the screen was Sparrow. She looked just like the last time I'd seen her. Strong, wiry, bold, and brave. With steely blue eyes and auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a rubbery-looking suit with the letters SNURP sewn into the chest.

She spoke.

“You are here because you've been chosen to be a part of the most elite young spy trainee program in the world. Do not take it lightly. You will learn more in due time. These are the fellow members of your team. They will be your competition and your backup. You will get to know them better than you know your best friends.”

On the screen appeared a boy. Only this didn't look like any boy I'd ever seen. He stood about six feet tall, with bright blond hair and a chiseled face. He had muscles in places I didn't even think I had places. The video showed him lifting free weights the size of my dad's car.

“This is Thor Knudson,” Sparrow said. “Thor was born with a rare genetic mutation called myostatin, which doubles its owner's muscle mass. Thor is from Oslo, Norway, and is the strongest kid in the world.”

The video showed Thor being awarded a gold medal, while other, slightly less-muscular kids looked on in disappointment. I gulped.

Then, a video came on showing a young girl. She was tall, lithe, dark haired, and olive skinned, wearing shorts and a tank top. She was standing in the middle of what looked like a giant obstacle course.

“This is Laila Mansour. Born in Marrakesh, Morocco, Laila has secured her own prominent title.”

Just like that, Laila swung up onto a pair of high beams, and proceeded to flip, flop, and glide through the air like her body was made of rubber. She was like a combination bird, frog, leopard, and one of those rubber bouncy balls. Then, she literally did a backflip, springing off a wall, and landed on her feet.

“Laila Mansour is known as the Princess of Parkour.”

Sparrow's voice continued to narrate as I was introduced to the rest of my fellow SNURP trainees. I met Henry Chang from San Francisco, who was trained in every martial art known to man. The Ninja. Alexi Pontneuffe from Monte Carlo, who could blend into any environment. The Chameleon. And lastly I met Astrid Ingall from Mozambique, South Africa. She could pick up any scent, follow any lead, and find anyone, anywhere. The Tracker.

And lastly, a picture came on the screen end the presentation. I recognized it. It was my fifth grade yearbook photo. I had braces. I had the worst haircut in the history of bad haircuts. And there was a hole in my sweater from when I snagged it on the handle of Mr. Statler's homeroom.

“This is Ezekiel Bartholomew,” Sparrow said. “Looks can be deceiving. Zeke is a master inventor, able to use infrared technology, fiber optics, and household items to create items that are necessary in any tactical mission.”

I'm pretty sure my face turned bright red—but it made me smile.

Sparrow came on the screen again.

“This is your team. You will meet them in person very soon.

“Now, search the seat pocket in front of you. You will find a small, wrapped pill and a bottle of water.”

I stuck my hand into the pocket, came out with the water and a tiny white pill.

“Swallow the pill. Wash it down. And I'll see you soon.”

I stared at the pill.

“Here goes nothing,” I said. I unwrapped it, popped it in my mouth, and took a swig of water.

Seconds later, my head felt woozy. One minute later, I was out like a light, my adventure about to begin.