Gazzy had relied on the element of surprise, as he often does. First, he’d perfectly mimicked a bird call, making a guard look up. Gazzy had tagged that guard. Then, when the guards were in pursuit, he’d utilized his other — well, I refuse to call it a skill. In fact, I think of it as a huge design flaw. Despite how hilarious the guys think it is, Nudge and Angel and I are simply more evolved than that. We try not to encourage demonstrations of his mastery of the gaseous arts.

Suffice it to say that Gazzy incapacitated the guards, leaving them coughing and gagging, gasping on the ground, their eyes watering. Then he raced through the trees, cackling in triumph, and burst out into the clear meadow where the lieutenant colonel was waiting with a clipboard and a stopwatch.

Iggy and Fang gave Gazzy high fives just as Lieutenant Colonel Palmer’s nose turned up, and he frowned at the woods.

“It’ll dissipate in a couple minutes,” I said, flopping down on the grass. “It always does.”

Palmer turned a ferocious glare on Gazzy. “You were forbidden to bring or to use antipersonnel weapons!”

“That’s the sad thing,” I said, just as Angel trotted out of the woods. “He didn’t. I mean, his name is the Gasman. We’re not just whistling Dixie, there.”

“Am I the last one?” Angel asked as she got near. “Sorry. Got sidetracked by some wild orchids.” She handed me a small bouquet of creamy flowers.

“Ooh, thanks, sweetie,” I said, inhaling their delicate scent. “So. Time for weapons class?”

The lieutenant colonel glared first at me, then at Angel. The two guards staggered out of the woods, still holding their rifles, but with their helmets askew and their camo gear trailing behind them.

“Ensigns Baker and Kipowski!” Palmer barked. “All five of these recruits exited the woods within four minutes! Did you see them?”

Looking dazed, the ensigns tried to straighten up. One of them cleared his throat. “We didn’t see the tall dark one, sir, or the tall blond one, or the oldest girl. We saw the younger boy, but he… incapacitated us.”

Palmer just stared at them.

Gazzy stifled a snicker. “Burritos for lunch,” he whispered, and Iggy and Fang tried to hold in their laughter.

“What about this one?” Palmer pointed his pen at Angel, who gave him a sunny smile.

The guards looked at her, and confusion crossed their faces.

I tried not to groan.

“I think I saw her,” one said slowly. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t —” Palmer seemed speechless. I knew it couldn’t last.

“I might have seen her,” said the other guard, his eyes on the ground. “I just — it’s all — I don’t know.”

I stood up and brushed off my khaki butt. “I guess it’s time for weapons class,” I said pointedly.