The League of Unexceptional Children

  Jonathan sighed to himself. “This is going to be a long day.”

  “If you’re on leave, why are you still wearing your uniform?” Shelley asked as she eyed the man’s tight ensemble.

  “I can’t tell my wife that I’m on leave because I let some guy into the White House who took the vice president. She’d never understand. She’d say it was my fault.”

  “But it is your fault,” Shelley weighed in as Jonathan stepped back, sensing the man’s mounting anger.

  “Let me tell you something, Miss Know-It-All. The Seal was like a snake charmer, using his voice to hypnotize me. So don’t blame the vice president’s kidnapping on me! Blame the Seal! Blame seals everywhere!” Arthur ranted nonsensically while Shelley lifted her eyebrows, as though to say “You can’t be serious.”

  “You are absolutely right, Mr. Pelton. The responsibility for this situation belongs not only to the Seal but seals everywhere,” Jonathan said with such conviction that he almost believed himself for a second.

  “Thank you for understanding,” Arthur said while shaking his head at Shelley. “Women. They don’t get it.”

  “I’ve never been called a woman before, so thank you,” Shelley said while making a check mark in the air. “Another thing off my to-do list.”

  OCTOBER 16, 10:49 A.M. EVANSTON, VIRGINIA

  According to Nurse Maidenkirk’s instructions, Arthur was to stand guard outside Alice Englander’s house while they broke in and retrieved the recordings. But upon arriving at the quaint white clapboard house with blue shutters and a red door, Arthur announced his own ideas. And, as usual, none of them were good.

  “You two need me. I’m a grown-up,” Arthur said while pointing at the deep wrinkles on his forehead.

  “We actually don’t need you inside, but we definitely need you outside,” Shelley said as tactfully as possible. “And let me just tell you, outside is where the action is… not the breaking-and-entering action, but the watching action.”

  “Guys, I’m going to have to pull rank here. I’m coming in. I’m leading this mission,” Arthur said, his pink hands resting on his hips.

  “Pull rank? You’re a security guard currently on leave for losing the vice president!” Shelley scoffed, and then turned to Jonathan. “And you call me crazy.”

  “Stop bringing up the vice president!” Arthur shouted, and then looked up at the sky. “This world sure isn’t fair! You make one little mistake and you’re done. Kaput! Gonzo!”

  “Little mistake? I don’t know if I would call it little—” Shelley said before being cut off by Jonathan.

  “Look on the bright side, Mr. Pelton: At least you’ve left an imprint on this world. You’re a part of history. You’re the man who got the vice president kidnapped and may possibly even bring down the whole government,” Jonathan offered with a smile.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Arthur Pelton acquiesced, his eyes glazing over as he imagined his face in history books.

  “Mr. Pelton, why don’t you sit over there on that bench and think about the huge impact you’ve had on this country,” Jonathan suggested.

  “Okay, but if you see any potato chips in the house, grab them. My blood sugar is getting low,” Arthur instructed Jonathan before waddling away.

  “I never would have guessed, but you’re really good at manipulating people. I’m kind of jealous,” Shelley said, eyeing the boy with admiration.

  “I’m not sure if that’s truly a compliment, but as they say, beggars can’t be choosers,” Jonathan remarked as he scanned the street for any sign of snooping neighbors. “Come on, let’s head around back.”

  Jonathan moved slowly, aware of each step. He was on private property. He was about to break the law for the first time. And not just some petty little law like jaywalking. No, Jonathan was about to break into the house of a woman he had never met. Regardless of the fact that the president of the United States himself had authorized the mission, Jonathan still felt like a criminal. But what choice did he have? He had to do this for the greater good. And so he forced himself to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

  Jonathan’s reticence was in stark contrast to Shelley, who was almost skipping with delight. The moment had finally come. She was in the throes of something exciting. And for once it was actually happening, it wasn’t some far-out fantasy that she escaped to when feeling down. It wasn’t like the time she won The X Factor without even being a contestant. No, Shelley Brown was literally breaking into the president’s chief of staff’s home because she was a member of the League of Unexceptional Children.

  “It’s not illegal if the president asks you to do it,” Jonathan whispered to himself as he approached Alice Englander’s back door.

  He then sighed, pulled out his special blue pen, and set about jimmying open the back lock. However, as the minutes passed, it became evident that Hammett’s instructions had been insufficient.

  “Move over, Johno, let old Shells give it a try.”

  “Go right ahead, Shells,” Jonathan answered, relieved to let his fingers uncurl.

  Minutes passed. The door remained locked. Jonathan was now sweating in places he didn’t even know were biologically possible. Shelley’s fingers were cramping as she pushed and prodded over and over again. Vice President Felinter’s face popped into her head and soon she was imagining the man wailing in pain. And all because Shelley couldn’t get the door open, she couldn’t finish her mission.

  “Maybe there’s a doggy door we can use?” Shelley suggested while doing her best to hide her burgeoning panic.

  “If Alice Englander had a dog, even a really dumb one, it would have started barking by now,” Jonathan said, dabbing the sweat pooling along his upper lip.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Vice President Felinter being tortured!” Shelley cracked, grabbing hold of Jonathan’s sweater. “We have to get in there! We have to save him!”

  “I know,” Jonathan answered, terrified by Shelley’s sudden grasp of reality.

  “We’ve been here way too long. We’re lucky Community Patrol hasn’t shown up yet,” Shelley squealed as Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Should we call Hammett? Should we return to headquarters? Should we break a window?” Jonathan proposed frantically.

  “Ticktock, ticktock…” Shelley whimpered.

  “This isn’t how spies are supposed to react when things go wrong, is it?” Jonathan asked.

  “No, but at least we haven’t told anyone we’re spies today. That’s an improvement from yesterday.”

  “Shelley, we’re clearly not cut out to be spies. We’re not smart enough. We’re not brave enough. We’re not anything enough. We have no choice but to tell Hammett the truth—we failed,” Jonathan lamented as he grabbed the contraption hanging from the lock and yanked. But it didn’t move. So he yanked again and again until finally the contraption fell out… and the door creaked open.

  “We’re in,” Shelley said quietly as she turned her sweaty, ashen face toward Jonathan and smiled.

  It was a small victory, an unexceptional victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  Alice Englander’s hallway was long and narrow, covered in dark green wallpaper adorned with cherubs, which instantly reminded Shelley of a saying she never could keep straight.

  “Johno, I know this isn’t really the time, but by any chance do you know if the saying is ‘Life’s a bowl of cherries’ or ‘cherubs’?”

  “Cherries,” Jonathan blurted out, his nerves still shot.

  “I don’t get it,” Shelley muttered under her breath.

  “Can this conversation wait until we’ve finished the mission?” Jonathan asked as he fidgeted with the skin-colored latex gloves covering both his hands.

  Don’t sweat on the carpet! Don’t lose any hairs! Jonathan thought, terrified at the idea of leaving a genetic calling card behind while sleuthing around the house of a complete stranger.

  “Of course,” Shelley answered. “And may I sa
y, Johno: As of a few seconds ago, you’re doing a very good job on this mission. Like better than a bowl of cherries. And please don’t feel any pressure to compliment me just because I complimented you,” Shelley went on. “Because I really hate that… I only like genuine compliments… so again, please do not say anything about how great I’m doing unless you mean it.…”

  Jonathan said nothing.

  “A lot of non-genius children of geniuses crave validation, but not me. I know I’m fabulous… I don’t need anyone to tell me… I mean, sure, I’ve never been invited to the Genius Convention, but who cares? I’ve got better things to do with my time.… Well, not always, but occasionally,” Shelley rambled.

  “You’re doing a great job,” Jonathan offered unconvincingly, prompting Shelley to smile as the two continued down the hall.

  Thick beige carpet compressed beneath their feet as they passed the kitchen and formal dining room, both of which looked like they hadn’t been used since the Bush administration.

  “What about this door, Johno?”

  “It could be a closet or another room or it could lead to the basement. There’s only one way to find out. Open it.”

  And so Shelley did.

  “Do you smell that?” Shelley asked as she started down the stairs into what turned out to be the basement. “That’s the scent of international intrigue.”

  “Or dampness,” Jonathan added as he followed his partner into the small but impressively organized space; everything from the hot water heater to the window to the light switch to the laundry detergent was labeled.

  Shelley suddenly pressed her latex-covered right hand against her forehead. “We left that seal-hating maniac outside on the bench. We’d better move quickly before Community Patrol finds him. Who knows what he might tell them?”

  Jonathan scanned the basement before pulling out his cell phone, using the screen’s light to read the plethora of labels: HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOKS, TAX RETURNS, NAILS AND HINGES, and finally PHONE RECORDINGS.

  “Hard to believe Alice Englander actually labeled the box PHONE RECORDINGS. Talk about making it easy,” Jonathan said as he picked up a small brown box filled with flash drives.

  “Poor Alice clearly never heard the saying ‘Stay messy so no one can find anything worth stealing.’”

  Jonathan shook his head. “No one’s heard that saying because no one has ever said that except for you just now.”

  Once outside, Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was the mission completed, but Arthur had managed to stay out of trouble. The rotund man was fast asleep, his head bobbing up and down as he snored.

  “Can’t we just leave him here?” Shelley asked as Jonathan started nudging the man.

  “No. At this point I think we’re as much his babysitter as he is ours.”

  OCTOBER 16, 3:04 P.M. EVANSTON, VIRGINIA

  After handing over the box of Alice Englander’s phone recordings at the League of Unexceptional Children headquarters, Jonathan and Shelley returned home to wait for further instructions. Seated side by side on Jonathan’s couch drinking celebratory Coca-Colas, they emanated success.

  Jonathan broke into a self-satisfied grin. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but once we got inside the house, it was actually pretty easy.”

  “I know, right? After only one day, we’ve got this spy thing down. And do you know why? Because for once in our lives, we’re naturals.”

  “You know, Shells, I think you might be onto something.”

  It was a happy moment. In fact, it was the happiest moment either Jonathan or Shelley had ever experienced. But it was to be short-lived.

  “Hey! They’re talking about the president,” Shelley squealed as she pointed at the television. “Turn up the volume!”

  A stern-looking anchor in a gray suit with a red tie addressed the public, carefully pronouncing every syllable as only newscasters do. “This morning’s press conference regarding the increase of ground troops has everyone from comedians to fellow politicians speculating that President Arons has caught lice from one of his children, as he was seen scratching and twitching throughout.…”

  “Ha! If they only knew! Amateurs!” Shelley interjected.

  “Right?” Jonathan seconded as the anchor switched to a clip of the vice president.

  “And now on to Oslo, Norway, where Vice President Carl Felinter is currently meeting with King Harald and Prime Minister Solberg…”

  “But that’s impossible!” Shelley shouted at the television. “He was kidnapped! The Seal took him!”

  Jonathan stared at the screen in disbelief, desperately racking his brain for a plausible explanation.

  “Hello? Jonathan? Say something!”

  “If the vice president is in Norway, then obviously he wasn’t kidnapped.”

  “But Nurse Maidenkirk and Hammett told us he was!”

  “The national news just played a video of Vice President Felinter. I think it’s safe to say Hammett and Nurse Maidenkirk lied to us,” Jonathan said as a knot the size of a football turned in his stomach.

  “But what about President Arons’s message for us?” Shelley pressed on.

  “Maybe the news is right. Maybe the president has lice? Maybe it wasn’t a message at all? Maybe Nurse Maidenkirk made the whole thing up?” Jonathan supposed.

  “No, this can’t be right,” Shelley whimpered as her glasses started to steam up, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “I think we need to at least consider the possibility that we’ve been had, that they—whoever they really are—tricked us into doing their dirty work. That there is no League of Unexceptional Children…”

  OCTOBER 16, 3:15 P.M. EVANSTON, VIRGINIA

  “What are you talking about? Of course the League of Unexceptional Children is real! We went to its headquarters!” Shelley argued as she brushed away tears.

  “We went to a space under a hot dog shop where Nurse Maidenkirk and Hammett told us the president of the United States is going to trust two nobodies to save this country from the brink of disaster. They said that there is a network of spies comprised entirely of average, forgettable kids like us. Think about that for a second; it’s an insane idea! How could we have fallen for it? And worse, who are they? What kind of people would trick a couple of kids into stealing tapes from the president’s chief of staff?” Jonathan screeched as he started frantically running his fingers through his hair. “Do they send kids to Guantánamo Bay?”

  Shelley blew her nose loudly, wiped away a few rogue tears, and then sighed. “You’re right. It doesn’t make any sense. No one in their right mind would put two kids whose greatest claim to fame is being able to spell their own names correctly in charge of anything to do with mall security, let alone national security.”

  “We’re Benedict Arnolds and we didn’t even know it!” Jonathan remarked semihysterically.

  “I don’t know who Benedict Arnold is, which only further proves your point. Why would the president hire a know-nothing nobody to save the country?” Shelley said, and then dropped her head into her hands.

  Jonathan placed the tips of his fingers on his friend’s trembling shoulder.

  “I don’t want to be invisible for the rest of my life,” Shelley uttered softly.

  “I get it. It’s not like I enjoy being a loser.”

  “You’re not a loser, Johno. People remember losers.”

  “Sometimes when I wake up from a dream where I have friends, good grades, and a name people remember, I let myself stay in the fantasy for a bit… I imagine going to the movies with a group of kids, a teacher congratulating me on a job well done…”

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Shelley said as she looked up at Jonathan and smiled weakly.

  “Yeah, but it’s not real. It’s not who we are; we’re nobodies. There’s nothing special about us,” Jonathan replied.

  “We’re nobodies, all right, but I wouldn’t say there’s nothing special about us. After all, we did just accidentally commit treason. We stole
information from our own government.”

  Jonathan shook his head and sighed. “We broke so many laws. There’s only one thing to do: Turn ourselves in.”

  Shelley shrugged. “Maybe we should bat around some other ideas? I’m thinking ones that don’t involve juvenile detention centers or the authorities calling our parents.”

  “My parents would probably think it’s cool.”

  Shelley pursed her lips and clenched her fists. “We can’t let Hammett and Nurse Maidenkirk get away with this! We just can’t! We need to stop them!”

  “What do you suggest?” Jonathan asked.

  “I don’t know yet. But like the saying goes, when a door closes, check to see if the alarm’s on and then break a window.”

  “That’s not exactly right… but it gets the point across,” Jonathan responded.

  “We need to go straight to the top, we need to sneak into the White House,” Shelley proclaimed, eyes wide with anticipation.

  “Not to be a Negative Ned, as you’ve so kindly referred to me in the past, but I feel like breaking into the White House so that we can tell the president about breaking into Alice Englander’s house is only going to get us more jail time.”

  “You may have a point there, Johno.”

  “Why don’t we stay away from breaking any additional laws and try something traditional like making an appointment?” Jonathan suggested.

  “I think getting a meeting with the president is kind of hard. I mean, he’s the president of the United States of America, not the president of the local Dalmatian Appreciation Society… okay, that doesn’t exist… but I wish it did… because I would totally join.”

  “Forget President Arons. We need a target who’s approachable but has all the right contacts.…”

  “For instance?” Shelley asked, peering over the top of her glasses.

  “The secretary to the secretary of Homeland Security.”

  “You mean the assistant?” Shelley clarified.

  “We can’t start at the top of the food chain; they’ll never listen to us. Our best bet is to focus on someone less important, but with ties to someone very important.”