Once upon a time, there was a teenage girl looking up at a Treehouse. She had traveled six hours to see this hideout, and it was a sight to behold. The tree sprouted out of the roof of a house. In its foliage were nestled cannons, telescopes, wooden buildings, and even part of a ship. The Treehouse's proportions were surreal: nearly as large as her old school. No wonder she had been able to see the base from five miles away.

She walked closer, feeling her heart soaring. For years she had lurched from failure to failure. The problem was, she had never possessed any initiative or assertiveness. At least not since the incident. On her thirteenth birthday, Fanny had woken up in the school nurse's office with amnesia. To her dismay, she had realized that she couldn't remember her life between eight and thirteen years old. The result of falling off monkey bars during recess and hitting her head, the nurse and doctors claimed. Fanny didn't buy it: how could hitting one's head cause highly selective amnesia? Her father suggested that the damage may have been inflicted by someone, which made more sense, but regrettably he had no idea who could have wanted to harm Fanny. Nevertheless, in a short space of time she had surmounted the handicap. But nothing had gone right since then, not in school, in sports, in her relationships, or in her extra-curricular endeavors. Nothing.

But hopefully that was about to change. A week ago she had received an invitation from a secret organization called the Kids Next Door, claiming that they were interested in recruiting her and offering to meet her here, at the bottom of the Treehouse in Cleveland. This was her chance to accomplish something meaningful, so she had jumped on it.

She reached the bottom of the house and took in the majestic sight. A few minutes passed. She should probably ring at the door, a voice inside her suggested, but she simply couldn't tear her eyes away from the treehouse. The term 'mesmerized' had just taken on a new meaning for her.

"Hold it right there, adult!" said an angry voice.

She looked ahead. A boy-probably eleven or twelve years old by the looks of it- was standing ten feet away. His fists were clenched and he was scowling. Her first look at Kids Next Door operative! A yellow gun and a walkie talkie were clipped to his belt.

"Who are you?" he asked in that same angry tone.

"Oh uh, my name is Fanny Fulbright." said Fanny courteously. "I'm here because I received a letter from the Kids Next Door a week ago. You said you wanted to meet me."

"Oh really?" replied the boy, scepticism radiating from him. "Well where is that letter, huh? Show it to me?"

Fanny bit her lips in trepidation. She had hoped that this issue wouldn't be brought up. "I do not have the invitation anymore, I'm sorry. I don't know why, but it burst into flames yesterday."

The child scrutinized her for a few seconds. Then, surprisingly, the hard look on his face softened and he relaxed his fists. He raised his walkie-talkie. "Numbuh 528? "It's all right, it's nothing. It's just one of the last, uh, ex-operatives responding ter our messages. Her name is Fanny Fulbright."

….

Don't worry, I can handle it. Ya briefed us on what ter do."

….

"Yeah, ah'll be careful. Ah'll let you know if she passes the test." The child pocketed his communication device and shifted his attention back to Fanny.

"Come with me, Fanny. Let's go for a walk."

They walked down the street in silence. For a minute, the only sound was the crunching of autumn leaves under their feet.

At length the boy spoke up. "So, Fanny. You want ter be a Kids Next Door operative?"

"Yes I do." Said Fanny, beaming. "There's nothing I want more in the world."

"Well my first question is, how old are ya?"

"Fourteen." answered Fanny, cringing slightly. Her apprehension was unfortunately justified: the child's face fell.

"Twenty." he repeated. "Now that's a bit of a problem. We accept kids, but not teenagers or adults. If ye're fourteen, that makes you an adult."

"But I believe in the Kids Next Door. I'm a kid at heart. Can't you overlook my age?"

The operative made no direct reply. Instead he adopted a puzzled expression (one which seemed oddly contrived) and inquired: "Fanny, ah don't understand. Why haven't ya heard of the Kids Next Door before? Why are ya trying ter join now?"

"Because, because", she stammered, caught unprepared, "I never knew it existed. I didn't see any signs."

"Ya never saw any signs?" he probed, looking surprised. "There were no supercool ships or giant robots where ya grew up? No treehouses?"

"I did a Treehouse and some really cool looking ships where I lived. But I always thought they belonged to the government."

The boy stared at her, clearly unimpressed. Since he didn't anything, Fanny raised the big question again. "So, can I join the Kids Next Door?"

The response was cruelly unmistakable. "I'm sorry, Fanny. You're too told. There's nothing we can do for ya."

Fanny stared blankly at the ground, crushed. "So this is it. This is the end." After being led to expect so much, she was going home empty-handed. It was a spectacular disappointment.

"Yeah, it is. Ya understand why, right?"

For a second, Fanny was seized by a vindictive urge to tell everyone she knew about the Kids Next Door. But that wouldn't help her cause. It would only punish them. "I understand." She stated, though not without a trace of bitterness. "I guess I should get going now."

She made to leave, but the boy held her back.

"Wait, Fanny. Don't leave! We can't let you join the Kids Next Door, but we can give ya something even better."

In a flash, Fanny's enthusiasm and hope reappeared. "What do you mean? What can you give me?"

The boy smiled. "Something that will change yer life." He brought his walkie-talkie to his ear once more. "Numbuh 258? Ya can bring out the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. She passed the test."