Our attacker was clad in black from head to toe, armed with a large stick, and had the element of surprise. However, he made one key mistake:

He attacked Orica instead of me.

Our attacker didn't stand a chance against her. She sensed his assault, whirled to face him, grabbed his arms, and calmly flipped him. Then she whipped out her sedate-inator and aimed it at him.

"Wait!" I exclaimed.

I had recognized our attacker's groan of pain.

Orica's finger twitched on the trigger of her gadget but didn't depress it. "Give me one good reason," she said.

"It's Omicah," I told her.

"OJ?" Our attacker struggled to his feet, slightly dazed, then pulled off his mask, revealing that he was, in fact, Omicah. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Orica demanded.

"I asked you first," Omicah said.

"I'm the one with the gadget," Orica reminded him.

"Good point," Omicah conceded. "I was trying to help you."

"By attacking us?" I asked.

"That was an accident," Omicah explained. "I thought you were with THE ORGANIZATION. I didn't realize it was you until I was in mid-attack. I mean, the entire Odd Squad is looking for you. Why on earth would you infiltrate here?"

"It's the last thing anyone would expect," I said.

"Oh." Omicah nodded understanding. "Gotcha."

Orica kept the gadget trained on him, as though she still wasn't sure whether to believe him. "Did you knock that guard unconscious?"

"Um . . . yes," Omicah admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I didn't want to, but he wouldn't listen to reason. He was going to call the administration on us."

"Us?" Orica and I asked at once.

"Me and Ozo," Omicah said. "She's already inside, talking to the prisoners."

I turned to Orica. "Looks like they had the same idea that we did."

"Was your idea to come down here and ask them what THE ORGANIZATION was up to?" Omicah asked.

"More or less," I said.

"Then, yeah, we had the same idea," Omicah agreed. "Cool! Great minds think alike."

Orica still didn't lower her gadget.

Omicah looked to me. "Ozo said you called her last night and claimed THE ORGANIZATION had framed you for the attack on the Little O. Unfortunately, no one else at the Odd Squad seems to believe that—except for your friends."

"Who are . . . ?" I asked.

"Me, Ozo, Ores, Orca, and O'Shea. We spent the whole day trying to convince people you were innocent, but no one would listen. In fact, the principal claims he suspected you were a mole for THE ORGANIZATION all along."

"Of course he does." I groaned.

"So we figured we had to get some more evidence ourselves," Omicah went on. "But this was the only place we could think of to look for it."

"Why'd you wait until now?" Orica asked.

"Probably the same reason you did," Omicah said. "Everyone else is asleep right now. The Odd Squad warned us not to do anything to help OJ, so we had to pretend like we understood and wait until everyone let their guard down. Except that guy." He pointed to the unconscious guard on the floor.

"If you and Ozo are here," I said, "where are Ores, Orca, and O'Shea?"

"On patrol in the halls outside, making sure no one catches us by surprise."

"Like we did?" I asked.

"Yes," Omicah replied. "Apparently, their patrolling techniques could use some work."

Finally convinced that Omicah was on our side, she lowered her sedate-inator and slipped it back into her holster. "This has cost us enough time. Let's find out what we came here for."

Now that Orica wasn't aiming a gadget at him, Omicah had the time to look over my new outfit. "Nice suit," he told me.

"Thanks," I said. "I just got it."

"Did it come with the utility belt?"

"Yeah. But you have to load it yourself."

"Do you have anything cool in yours?"

"Not unless you think gum is cool."

"Would you two mind canning the chitchat?" Orica asked. "This is a covert mission, not a slumber party."

"Sorry," Omicah and I said.

We arrived at a thick metal door that looked as though it had recently been installed. The computerized keypad lock had been shorted out and the door was propped open with a wad of paper. Ozo's handiwork.

There were two jail cells positioned side by side, and a longer, thinner corridor that allowed people like us to visit the prisoners. It felt like being at a very old zoo where bars were still on the cages.

The cells were sparsely decorated. Each had an army surplus cot for sleeping and a cheap desk for dining and homework. The toilets were metal and sat right out in the open, next to the cots. (Although there was a wall between the cells to provide a tiny bit of privacy.) The only amenity was an extremely large television and gaming console in the cell to the left, which Outlaw had been given as a reward for good behavior.

Despite the late hour, Outlaw was playing video games.

This came as no surprise. Back at Villain Academy, Outlaw had done almost nothing except play video games. It occurred to me that being incarcerated with a gaming console probably wasn't much of a punishment for him; in fact, it might have even felt like an improvement over his previous life. He had already spent so much time sitting on his cot staring at the TV screen that he'd created a large divot in the mattress under his rear end. He was playing Target: Annihilation, the exact same game Jason had been playing, although he was significantly better at it.

"Hey, Outlaw," I said. "How's it going?"

"Fine," he said, then went right back to his game.

This qualified as a decent bit of conversation for Outlaw. I had gotten an entire word out of him, as opposed to his usual "Mneh." I figured it meant he actually liked me.

I got a considerably stronger reaction from the other two people in the room.

Ozo, who was standing in front of Oshleigh's cell, squealed with delight, then raced over and threw her arms around me. "OJ! I can't believe you're here! I was so worried about you! I'm so happy you're not in jail!"

"Me too," I said.

Ozo noticed Orica and crowed, "And you! You were only pretending to be upset with OJ, weren't you? Oh, I could hug you, too!"

"Don't," Orica warned. As if, maybe, Ozo had threatened to punch her.

Ozo backed off. "I only said I could hug you, that's all."

"Well, well, well," said a voice from the second cell. It was chirpy and yet oddly malicious at the same time. "Looks like all the jidiots are finally here."

Omicah looked at me, confused. "Jidiots?"

"Oshleigh always does this thing where she combines two words to make a new one," I explained. "Jerks plus idiots equals 'jidiots.' "

"Oh," Omicah said, then realized he should take offense at this. "Hey! We're not either one of those things!"

"You're with these other jidiots," Oshleigh taunted. "So you're a jidiot by association."

I moved down the corridor so I could get a better look at her. She was using the bars of her cell as makeshift gymnastic equipment, hanging by her hands from them several feet above the floor, her legs spread in a mid-air split. Instead of her usual sparkly pink clothes, she was in drab prison garb, but she still had a bit of her traditional glitter in her hair.

However, the contemptuous glare she'd last had for Orica and me was still on her face. Her prison time hadn't softened it at all.

"I've been trying to talk to them for ten minutes," Ozo whispered to Orica, Omicah, and me. "They both claim to not know anything about THE ORGANIZATION's current plans. I buy it from Outlaw, but I think Oshleigh's hiding something."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Outlaw coughed up everything he knew about THE ORGANIZATION weeks ago," Ozo explained. "That's how he got the TV and the game console—and why his sentence has been shortened. He's almost done his time. So why keep anything else secret? But Oshleigh . . . well, she's giving off this cocky vibe. Like she knows more than she's letting on and is thrilled that we don't know it."

"I can hear you," Oshleigh taunted. "But I can't help you. Looks like you're in serious treopardy, OJ."

"See what I mean?" asked Ozo.

"Treopardy?" Omicah echoed. "What's that, trouble plus jeopardy?"

"Sounds right," I agreed.

Omicah grinned. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

Orica approached Oshleigh's cell, then shimmied up the bars until she was staring Oshleigh in the face. "I think you know plenty about what THE ORGANIZATION is up to," she said.

"Well, I don't." Oshleigh tucked her legs and sprang backward off the bars, doing a flip before sticking the landing. "I've been cooped up in this stupid jail ever since September. How could I possibly know what THE ORGANIZATION has been plotting since then?"

"Because THE ORGANIZATION isn't reckless," Orica replied. "They plot everything out well ahead of time with extreme care and caution. This assassination attempt would have taken months of planning, if not more. You were at Villain Academy for more than a year before OJ arrived. Therefore, it's extremely likely you heard something about this." With that, Orica performed the exact same backward spring off the bars that Oshleigh had—only she did two flips before sticking the landing.

Oshleigh gaped in surprise, then caught herself and tried to act like she wasn't impressed. "Why would they have told me anything? I was only a student."

"I didn't suggest that anyone told you anything," Orica clarified. "I'm saying you might have heard something. You're a smart girl. You certainly kept your eyes and ears open. There's a good chance you picked up on a plot or two."

"If I did—and I'm not saying that happened—why on earth would I tell you about it? You're the one who put me in this horrible place." Oshleigh shifted her angry gaze to me. "And you! You stabbed me in the back! You let me think you were on my side! You promised to go to Shmumber World with me!"

"I never actually promised that," I said.

"You still betrayed me! You're a quaitor!"

"Quisling plus traitor?" Omicah asked.

"Duh," Oshleigh sneered.

Orica returned to the bars of Oshleigh's cell. "You are going to tell me exactly what I want to know about THE ORGANIZATION. And here's why: because I can bust you out of here if you do."

"What?" Oshleigh said, completely caught by surprise.

"What?" Ozo asked, even more surprised than Oshleigh.

"What?!" I asked, even more surprised than either one of them. "We never discussed that!"

"Because I figured you'd say no," Orica told me.

"Of course I'm going to say no!" I exclaimed. "It's bad enough that I'm wanted for trying to assassinate the Little O! Now you want to add breaking a major criminal out of jail to that?"

"If we don't break her out, then we don't get the evidence to clear your name," Orica explained.

"So to prove my innocence from one crime, I have to commit another?" I asked.

"Yes. The irony is incredible." Orica removed a formal document from her pocket and unfolded it for Oshleigh to read. "This is a notarized affidavit from an emeritus agent of the British Odd Squad. In return for your help, they are willing to spirit you out of this country and help you establish your own gymnastics training academy in any of the British territories."

"Any of them?" Oshleigh asked, so intrigued that she'd forgotten all about being spiteful. "Including Turks and Caicos?"

"Including Turks and Caicos," Orica said.

"Wow." Oshleigh's angry grimace disappeared and was replaced by the excited smile I'd seen for most of my time at Villain Academy. "I've always wanted to go to Turks and Caicos. And having my own gymnastics training academy would be swawesome."

"Sweaty plus awesome?" Omicah asked.

"Sweet plus awesome," Ozo corrected.

"Oh." Omicah looked disappointed that he'd gotten one wrong.

"You could bring your family with you," Orica told Oshleigh. "But we'd have to give you all new identities, and if you guys ever had an odd problem you wouldn't be able to call the Odd Squad."

"Big deal," Oshleigh said. "The Odd Squad stinks. First, the dimwit judge at my trial docked me a point by mistake. And then, when I tried to move on from that, the Odd Squad threw me in jail."

"You did try to blow up several thousand children," I reminded her.

Oshleigh waved this off, unconcerned, as though I'd merely accused her of being a litterbug. She studied the affidavit carefully, then nodded approval and turned to Orica. "Okay, let's do this. I'm good to go right now."

"So are we," Orica said.

"We are?" I asked. "Don't you think we should talk this through a bit more?"

"No," Orica said flatly. "We've already gone through the trouble of breaking in and the guard is still unconscious. We won't get a better chance to spring Oshleigh and we're running out of time. If you want to clear your name, we need to know what she knows—and this is the only way we're going to get it."

I turned to Omicah and Ozo, hoping they might serve as voices of reason and back me up, but neither of them did. In fact, Omicah was thrilled about the whole thing. "We're springing a prisoner from maximum security!" he exclaimed. "This is so cool!"

"It's a felony," I pointed out to him.

"To save you," he said. "Man, this school is amazing! The most exciting thing we ever got to do at our old school was dissect a frog. And mine had some kind of frog fungus."

Meanwhile, Ozo wasn't arguing my side either. Instead, she asked Orica, "Do you think we should maybe spring Outlaw too?"

"Why?" Orica asked. "He doesn't know any crucial information."

"I know, but it doesn't seem fair to leave him here and free Oshleigh. He actually helped thwart THE ORGANIZATION's plans, while she tried to kill us."

"Don't worry about me," Outlaw said, without even looking up from his game. "I'm good here."

"Really?" Ozo asked.

"Really," Outlaw answered. "I get to play games all day and have all the food I can eat. What more is there?"

"Uh . . . freedom?" Ozo suggested. "Fresh air? Not having your toilet be next to your bed?"

"Mneh," Outlaw grunted. "I like having the toilet right here. That way I can keep gaming while I do my business."

"See what I have to deal with in here?" Oshleigh asked. "It's hisgusting."

"Horrible plus disgusting?" Omicah asked.

"Bingo," Oshleigh told him. "So please, guys, let's get out of here. Now."

"I'll decide when we spring you," Orica said. "And we're not taking you anywhere until you tell us what THE ORGANIZATION's plotting."

"Ha!" Oshleigh barked. "I'm not a boron. If I tell you what I know first, then you'll just leave me here. I'm not saying anything until I'm safe and sound in Turks and Caicos."

"That's unacceptable," Orica countered. "It will take weeks to get you set up there, and we need that information right now. So cough it up."

"No way." Oshleigh crossed her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Then you're staying right here. For the next twenty years." Orica started for the door. "C'mon, guys. Let's find someone else who'll talk."

Omicah, Ozo, and I dropped in behind her—although I didn't really want to. For all my concern about springing Oshleigh, I didn't have any idea who else we could go to for information. I was pretty sure Orica didn't either. I could only assume she was bluffing, hoping to get Oshleigh to crack. . . .

Which was exactly what happened. "Wait!" Oshleigh cried. "You don't have to get me out of the country! All you have to do is spring me. Once we're off the academy property, safe and sound, I'll tell you everything I know!"

Orica turned back to her. "Is it enough to clear OJ's name?"

"It's enough to take down THE ORGANIZATION once and for all. Those schmerks deserve it after making me take the fall for them."

"Schmoes plus jerks?" Omicah asked.

"Schmucks plus jerks," Oshleigh informed him. "But close enough."

"All right," Orica agreed. "We've got a deal." She went to the electronic keypad for the cell door and entered the combination. The cell door clicked open.

"How'd you know that code?" Ozo asked.

"The principal keeps all the top secret codes for campus written down in a folder in his office so he won't forget them," Orica explained. "It's labeled 'Top Secret Codes.' " She removed the sedate-inator from her holster and aimed it at Oshleigh. "Try anything funny and I'll knock you out, drag you back in here, and make sure they add sixty years to your sentence."

Oshleigh raised her hands in surrender. "I won't try anything, I swear. Let me just get my stuff." She grabbed some hair glitter, pink nail polish, and a few scrunchies, shoved them in her pockets, and said, "Let's go."

I led the way out, wanting to get off campus as quickly as possible. Omicah and Ozo followed me, and Oshleigh followed them. Orica came last, keeping her eye—and her gadget—on Oshleigh.

"Bye, Outlaw!" Ozo called.

"See ya," Outlaw replied waving goodbye while keeping his eyes on the game.

We passed back out into the labyrinth of tunnels under the school.

Where we ran into Ores. Literally. He was dressed in a gray outfit that blended perfectly into the cement tunnels. I didn't even see him until I slammed into him and knocked him right on his butt.

"Ouch!" he whined.

"Hey, Ores!" Ozo said excitedly. "OJ came for Oshleigh, the same way we did! Now we're springing her so she'll turn traitor on THE ORGANIZATION!"

"No you're not," Ores replied with surprising confidence.

An entire squad of campus security agents stepped into the hallway behind him, their weapons pointed at us.

"You're all under arrest," Ores said.