The scientist was not amused. He shouted at the boy angrily and stormed off to file an official complaint.
Jackson’s braces sprang out of his mouth and lifted him up to where Duncan was perched.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jackson said. “I’ve got a folder as thick as a phone book full of complaints. What can they do to us?”
“They can deduct fines from your pay,” Ruby said from below.
“Hey! They pay us?” Jackson cried.
“Children, the lunch lady has been summoned and we’ll be lifting off momentarily,” Ms. Holiday said from below. “I need to prepare you for the mission. Come back down.”
Duncan scurried down the side of the space jet and Jackson lowered himself to the floor, where they were joined by their teammates.
“Where are we going?” Ruby said.
“Edinburgh, Scotland,” Agent Brand said. “Our friend Simon has resumed his criminal mischief. We’ve gotten word that he’s trying to rob the Royal Bank of Scotland, but naturally, you five are going to stop him.”
“Yes we are,” Ruby said with confidence.
“And then I’m going to bodyslam him,” Matilda said.
“Let’s get this bird in the air,” the lunch lady said as he ran through the open tunnel into the gym. “I’ve got a whole room of hungry kindergartners and you have no idea how vicious they can get when they have to wait on pizza day.” He raced up the space jet’s platform and leaped into the cockpit. A second later there was a rumbling roar and the engines ignited with blue flame.
Ms. Holiday and Mr. Brand led the children onto the ship and helped strap them into their seats. Within moments the space jet was blasting toward the stratosphere, leaving the gymnasium behind. Soon it was just a tiny spec outside the window.
“What do you think of our new School Bus?” Ms. Holiday asked Duncan.
Duncan smiled. The old rocket had been lost when the team was trying to stop Dr. Jigsaw from destroying the world. The new ship was ten times as fast. Unlike a plane, the School Bus didn’t fly across the horizon as it went from point A to point B. Instead, it soared right up into space, waited for the planet to spin, then rocketed back down to the desired location. The method allowed them to travel anywhere on the planet in no time. It was how they managed to go on missions during school hours.
“It’s an incredible machine and very efficient,” Duncan said to Ms. Holiday. “The numbers I’ve read on fuel consumption are truly breathtaking. This machine gets gas mileage as good as a compact car.”
“I like the snacks!” Flinch said as he opened four packages of caramels stored beneath his seat.
Duncan shrugged. He couldn’t expect his teammate to get as excited about technology as he did. Most of the team had little interest in understanding the tools they had at their disposal as long as the tools worked. Ruby knew her way around computers, but her fancy pocket notebook with its state-of-the-art processor was just a laptop computer to her. Duncan, however, saw machines, no matter how small or simple, as miracles. He marveled at the imagination required to design them. So much love and passion had gone into them—sparked by a flash of genius. Machines were truly dreams come to life.
His teammates would have been surprised to discover that Duncan hadn’t always had a love of learning and technology. In fact, just a few years before, he had been a below-average student, in a below-average school, in a below-average neighborhood. As a third grader at Elmhurst Elementary, a school notorious for its discipline problems and filled with exhausted teachers, he drifted down hallways like a ghost. He was shy and had few friends. And because his parents had taught him to respect teachers, the few friends he did have thought he was weird. He was in serious jeopardy of falling through the cracks—until the day he became a school celebrity. It all happened by accident during one of Ms. Corron’s art classes. That day, as Duncan worked furiously on a dried corn and peas paste portrait of his mother, he spotted Renee Seal sniffing a glob of dried craft glue she had found on her desk. Her neighbor, a notorious prankster named Kevin Houser, told her to eat it. When she refused, he resorted to the best means of coercion a third grader has at his disposal: He dared her.
The class held its collective breath, knowing the full nature of a dare. If Renee refused, she would be shamed by her peers— possibly even shunned. But a second sniff of the glob told Renee it was better to be friendless than eat paste. She declined. Kevin was triumphant and searched the class for another victim.
“What about you, Duncan? Are you brave enough to eat the glue?”
Duncan shook his head. He was busy trying to get a pea just right so that his mom didn’t look like a Cyclops.
“I double dare you,” Kevin said, causing every kid in the class to drop their project. A double dare was high stakes. For some, the tension of the moment would cause nightmares and bed-wetting.
Duncan eyed the glue, then scanned the classroom. Even Ms. Corron was sitting on the edge of her seat biting her fingernails. He had never gotten so much attention in his life. Every eye was on him. If he chickened out, he would be subjected to even more ridicule than usual. He had to do it. He had to be brave. He shrugged, snatched the glob off the desk, popped it into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed to a symphony of “Ewwwww!”
“I can’t believe you did it,” Kevin said, looking stunned. “I bet you won’t do it again.”
“What’s in it for me?” Duncan said.
“Five bucks,” Kevin replied.
Duncan reached over and snatched the bottle off the table. He unscrewed the cap and poured it into his mouth. Then he licked his chops. “Pay up!”
Another giant “Ewwwwwwww!” rose up in the room. Ms. Corron nearly fainted.
Kevin reached into his pocket and handed Duncan a crumpled five-dollar bill. He didn’t look angry at losing his money or even humiliated; in fact, he looked like he had just won the lottery. From that moment on, Kevin stuck to Duncan, well . . . like glue. He paraded the chubby boy through the school, boasting about his strange taste in food, turning Duncan into his own personal sideshow and offering to repeat the art class incident for anyone who was willing to pay to see it. Much to Duncan’s surprise, lots of people were willing. He and Kevin did six shows a day, in empty broom closets, bathrooms, and the boiler room. There were even Saturday and Sunday matinees on the playground.
“Come see the amazing Gluestick—the boy who eats paste!”
Kevin took an unusually high cut of the money, 75 percent, but Duncan didn’t mind. He was a star, getting more attention than he ever dreamed possible. Plus, he actually liked eating paste. It was soft, like custard, but with a woody flavor. Kevin said it would ruin the show if the kids suspected that eating paste was a pleasant thing to do. He didn’t want a copycat act muscling in on their spotlight. So Duncan pretended to loathe it.
Soon, however, Duncan and Kevin’s carnival act came to the attention of the principal, who brought it to the attention of Avery and Aiah. Duncan’s parents listened to details of the whole tawdry scheme while staring at their son as if he had six heads. The next day, his parents started looking for a home in a new school district far away from Elmhurst Elementary and Kevin Houser.
Nathan Hale Elementary was one of the best public schools in the state, and it was nestled in a tree-lined community that offered the family a fresh start. The mortgage was crippling, but if Duncan’s parents saved and scrimped and cut coupons, the family would survive. The struggle would be worth it to get their kid back on the right track. Unfortunately, what Avery and Aiah didn’t know was that Kevin Houser had a cousin at Nathan Hale by the name of Brett Bealer. Kevin had told Brett all about Duncan’s taste for sticky adhesives, but unlike his more business-minded relative, Brett used the information to taunt Duncan, not profit from him. Before the boy could make a single friend, he was awarded a series of mean nicknames: Paste Boy, Sticky, Elmerface, Crazyglue. The list went on and on. It looked as if someone had flipped the Off switch on Duncan’s bright new start.