“That’s the last time I’m having bran flakes for breakfast…” he said in amazement. He didn’t have long to admire his handiwork, as a black car came screeching round the side of the building. Harry’s plan of escaping without anyone noticing was kaput. He looked at the car and looked at the fence, could he make it? The car doors swung open and a man and a woman jumped out. They were both dressed in black suits and sunglasses. They didn’t look like police; they looked exactly like secret agents or worse – the baddies from his comic books.
“DON’T MOVE!”
the woman yelled.
Harry wasn’t going to stick around. “I just wanted to help a lost cat! Sorry, it was an accideeeeent!” he cried out.
“What was an accident?” the man shouted.
“I’ve got to go. Sorry again!” Harry cried out apologetically.
“DO NOT MOVE!” the woman in black yelled again, before sprinting towards Harry.
Harry looked at the fence and then at the people chasing him. He began to run, faster than he’d ever run before in his life. The ground disappeared beneath his feet. It was the most incredible feeling, like his legs weren’t his own. Looking over his shoulder, he realized he was beating the grown-ups: this made no sense. He got to the fence and climbed it like a spider scampering over a web. Who knew that being chased by baddies in dark glasses would have improved his PE skills? Harry jumped down the other side and ran along the alleyway. He glanced back to see the two baddies attempt to climb over the fence and chase him down. They managed it with far less finesse than Harry. Once they’d landed, Harry saw the woman head in the direction of the comic shop while the man was in hot pursuit after him. Harry was just about to turn into the crowded high street where he’d be safe when he saw the female agent appear in front of him. Harry spun on his heels, only to find he was cornered.
“Give it up, kid. It’s over. All we want to do is help.” The man attempted a weak smile.
“Leave me alone!” Harry cried out.
“Stay still, kid. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” the woman said reassuringly.
“Leave me alone or I’ll call the—”
“Police? They can’t help you,” the man said. “Only we can.”
Looking up, Harry saw a drainpipe high above his head. There was nothing to lose. He closed his eyes and jumped the biggest jump he could jump. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the shop window ledge sailing past – he was still jumping! He looked down below as the two agents gasped in amazement. He looked up to the sky – he was still going, higher and higher! Was this jumping or flying? At what point does one become the other? He looked down and waved a sarcastic wave.
“Catch you later!” he said, sailing over the top of the shop buildings and above the town.
Whatever it was that had just happened, things would never be the same again.
“I can fly!” he shouted. “Uh-oh…” His stomach lurched. “Oh my…” The trouble with flying was that it always made Harry very, very sick.
BLEURGH!
He sent one flying. “Watch oooouuuut below!”
Yes, things would never be the same again – especially for the traffic warden finishing his shift beneath.
4 p.m.
After recovering from his bout of airsickness, Harry soon got used to the idea that he could fly. It was all in the mind. Harry thought back to the incident with the bin. He had just closed his eyes and imagined the parp – and the bin had flown off like a rocket. It was the same when he’d scarpered over the fence. All he’d had to do was imagine a skill and it happened. It was the same with flying. If he thought about turning left, he did. The same with turning right, swooping or going up – even loop-the-looping probably, but Harry made a mental note not to try that until there was no one below (just in case he got sick again).
“Right, I can fly around all day but, as much fun as this is, people might start to notice a low-flying boy,” Harry said to himself. “I need to go home and tell Grandad that I’m now, you know, a superhero.”
After flying through the clouds with his mouth open, just for fun – well, who wouldn’t want to taste the clouds? – he scanned the land below. He couldn’t quite work out where he was. Things looked different from above. “I think I’m lost!” Harry said, coming to a hovering stop in mid-air. “Wait, is that the Number 14 bus?” Harry looked down as the traffic meandered along the roads. “I think it is! I know what to do…”
Over the next twenty minutes, Harry flew above the bus, following every stop and turn. When it went around the roundabout, so did Harry. If it pulled over, so did Harry. Then, before he knew it, the bus screeched to a halt right outside the small house he shared with his grandad. Harry waited until it was quiet and, when no one was looking, came to a gentle landing outside McTucky Fried Chicken. Harry felt unsteady on his feet for a few seconds – the way you do when you get off a rollercoaster. Harry strolled along his street, same as always, but everything looked and felt different. He couldn’t stop smiling. He had secret powers, and it felt good.
“Grandad!” Harry said, bursting in through the front door. “I need to tell you something – it’s massive!”
“Wait up!” Grandad said. “Steak and kidney or minced beef?”
“THIS IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN PIES!”
Harry yelled.
Grandad gasped and looked at Harry in disbelief.
“Sorry, Grandad! I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of order,” Harry said, apologizing.
“OK, but don’t ever say that again! Pies are great; pies will always be great. A pie won’t let you down. Friends may come and go, but pies…”
“I know. But can I tell you something? It’s really important,” Harry said.
“What is it?” Grandad asked, looking concerned. “Is everything OK?”
“Yes, everything’s fine…” Harry said, pausing. He hadn’t really thought about how to say this. “I mean, well … I farted a bin off and set my bum on fire but on the bright side, I can fly now.”
“What?”
“Sorry, that came out a bit confused. I’ll work backwards… No, backwards isn’t good. I’ll work forwards, but a really quick version.”
“HARRY!”
“Sorry. OK, I think I got shot by this weird laser in this really scary building and now I have superpowers. I didn’t catch the bus home; I flew. I can fly now, and also run really fast and jump incredibly high and fart with the strength of a hundred men – although that may just have been the bran flakes.”
“Sit down and start from the very beginning,” Grandad said.
Ten minutes later, Harry and Grandad stood in the garden.
“In your own time,” Grandad said, with a look on his face as if to say, Oh reaaaally now? which was totally understandable.
“OK, I can prove it,” Harry said, shaking his head, hands and feet as if he was warming up for the high jump. He fixed his eyes on the clouds and took a deep breath. “Oh boy, I really hope this works.”
“Me, too. If you’re making this up and we’ve got cold pies for nothing, then, heaven help me, I won’t be held responsible for my actions!”
“Three … two … one…” Harry said, closing his eyes and jumping high into the air.
“Oh my! You’re doing it!” Grandad gasped. “Is this a magic trick? I know they sell those in that fancy-dress shop in town.”
“They sell tricks with fake dog poo, Grandad! Not tricks that make you fly! No, this is all me, I told you. Look at my trousers. Scorch marks! The laser got me and this is what happened.”
“Incredible! Do you know what this means?”
“No, what?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s got to be good. Fly higher.”
“OK, but I don’t want to go up too high.”
“In case you throw up again?” Grandad asked.
“Noooo. Well, not just that. I don’t want too many people to see.”
“Higher!” Grandad said, waving his arms.
; “OK…”
“Now lower…”
“Erm, here?” Harry asked, hovering to a stop.
“Yes! Right, while you’re up there, can you take all those dead leaves out of the gutter?”
“Are you using my new-formed superpowers to clear the roof?!” Harry yelled.
“Listen, it was going to cost me thirty pounds to get those cleared! Now you can do it for free.”
“I bet Splendid Man doesn’t have to put up with this: ‘Sorry, I can’t save the world. My grandad asked me to fix the roof!’” Harry muttered to himself. “They’re all slimy!” he said, scrunching up his nose.
“Thirty quid buys you an awful lot of pies and comics.” Grandad smiled.
“Fine,” Harry said before taking a deep breath and blowing the dead leaves out of the gutter. Not only did the leaves fly, but Harry took out a few roof tiles and next door’s washing as well. There were pants everywhere! “Oops, sorry, I’ll put them back.” Harry said, zooming to the ground, picking up the tiles before flying back up and reattaching them to the roof. “There we go. All fixed! I’m not going next door and messing with Mr Anderson’s pants, though,” Harry clarified. “Any more odd jobs you need doing?”
“No, I think it’s safer if you don’t do any more chores…” Grandad said, still unable to believe his eyes. “So, what now? Do you go and fight crime or something?” Grandad looked impressed, as Harry landed in the garden again.
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess that’s the thing to do. According to the books.”
“The books?”
“Yeah, my comics. You get super-powers and then you fight crime… Oh no!” Harry exclaimed, looking at his grandad.
“What?”
“The comics I bought. I left them behind.”
“At the warehouse?”
“My bus ticket, too,” Harry said, patting his pockets in panic. “They’ll be able to work out where I live!” Harry moaned, the blood draining from his face. “They’ll be after us!”
5 p.m.
“Agent G! I think I found something…” The woman held up the carrier bag that Harry had left at the scene.
“Good one, Agent S,” the man said, coming over to examine the evidence.
“What’s the damage?” Agent S asked, looking at the mess Harry had made.
“The laser’s OK. We can clear up the water. What do we have here?” said Agent G, peering in the bag, “Comics, a receipt from that shop around the corner – and a Number 14 bus ticket – a return from Wesley Avenue. Perfect.” He smiled. “We’ll have him within the hour.”
“But now he has the … gift – I mean, all those powers – how will we catch him?” the woman asked.
“He’s just a kid… Yes, he’s got superpowers but he doesn’t know how to use them. It’s like sticking a Ferrari engine on a lawnmower. At the end of the day, all you have is an out-of-control lawnmower.”
“I hope you’re right. But what if this gets out? Why do you think he broke into the lab in the first place? Do you think he knows what we do here?” Agent S looked around nervously.
“I don’t know. I have about a million questions for him, too,” Agent G said. “Let’s go to the comic shop – they may be able to give us a name.”
“Yeah, I know this kid. He’s a regular,” the woman behind the counter said, looking at the receipt. “He was in here earlier. I know everyone. I’m Frankie, of ‘Frankie’s Comics’. Wait a second, who are you guys?”
“Police,” Agent G said, flashing a badge.
“Is he in trouble?”
“Oh no,” Agent S said reassuringly. “We just wanted to return his comics. He left them on the bus and, well, someone got in touch with us.”
“Wow, that’s quite a service! The police getting involved so that some lad can have his comics back. Boy, he’s going to give you guys a big hug!”
“Not if we get our hands on him … I mean, hug him first!” Agent S laughed.
“I’m surprised he forgot his comics, though,” Frankie said curiously, taking a swig of her cherry slushy. “I mean, he’s a bit of a nerd, if you know what I mean.” Frankie gave a snort and almost choked, sticky red ice dribbling down her chin.
“It takes one to know one!” Agent G grinned.
“Yeah!” Frankie laughed. “Wait … what?”
“So, do you have an address for him?” Agent S ignored her, changing the subject.
“Erm, sure, I had to send him a couple of comics one time. Here it is: Harry Ramsbottom, 31 Wesley Avenue.”
“I know it.” Agent G smiled to himself.
“I notice you have CCTV in here.” Agent S looked at the mini-camera above the cash till.
“Well, you can never be too careful. It all gets recorded here,” she said, tapping her computer.
“Very wise.” Agent G nodded. “Well, we’d better be off now,” he said, holding out his hand to say goodbye. “Ooops!” he smirked as he knocked the slushy off the counter and all over the computer. It sparked and short-circuited in front of Frankie’s eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Agent G said. “I hope you haven’t lost the CCTV?”
“What do you think? It’s kaput!” Frankie said furiously.
“Maybe this will help repair it.” Agent S said, handing over a stack of cash.
“Wow … well … yes … that should do it.” Frankie looked impressed. “Who knew the police were so kind?!” she called as Agent S and Agent G left.
“POLICE?!”
someone outside the shop shrieked. “Good! Something threw up all over me!” cried a very sticky and very stinky traffic warden. “I’ve never seen such a big pigeon!”
“Call 999.” Agent G walked straight past and headed to the car. “We need to be somewhere,” he said, as he threw Harry’s comics into the bin.
“I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you’ve got two secret agents trying to kill you,” Grandad said, shaking his head. “It might be time to rethink your shopping trips on a Saturday. They’re becoming precarious.”
“Now is not the time for a word of the day, Grandad,” Harry groaned. “What do we do? We need a plan. What’s the plan?!” Harry peeked nervously out of the front window, looking for danger signs.
“Why are you asking me?” Grandad seemed puzzled.
“Because you’re a grown-up. Grown-ups are meant to have all the answers.”
“No, they don’t. We just pretend we do. To fool kids.”
“What?”
“Well, you were going to find out one day.” Grandad shrugged. “We’re generally as clueless as you are; we just pretend to know what we’re doing.”
“Oh, well, that is just great,” Harry sighed.
“Look, I don’t know why you think you need my help. It’s the other way round.”
“What?” Harry asked.
“Listen, you’re the expert in all this superhero stuff. You know what to do – it’s in every comic you’ve ever read. It’s all in there,” Grandad said, tapping Harry’s head.
Grandad was right: Harry had read hundreds, maybe even thousands, of stories about superheroes.
“We just need to follow the rules,” he said.
“What rules?” Grandad asked.
“Well, for one thing, I’ll need a sidekick,” Harry said, looking at Grandad.
“Me?”
“Yep, you’re in this as deeply as I am,” Harry confirmed. “Obviously, we’ll need some cool names and a logo – but we can worry about those later. First things first: we need to get out of here, and pronto. The agents know what I look like, so we need disguises. I mean, proper ones – wearing glasses and parting your hair on the other side doesn’t count, Superman.”
Then Harry had a eureka moment:
“WE NEED TO GO BACK TO THE WAREHOUSE!”
he shouted. “They won’t look for us there. Returning to the scene of the crime; it’s perfect…”
“Are you sure?” Grandad said, sounding sceptical.
“Yes, i
t’s in every comic book. The place where it all starts is always where it all ends.” Harry smiled. “Now for the disguises. How do you hide a superhero?” Harry pondered the question for a few moments. “I know: we’ll dress as superheroes! They’ll be expecting us to keep a low profile. They won’t be looking for someone dressed like a superhero; it’s the perfect double bluff. That’s another rule: there has to be a lot of double-bluffing.”
“And where am I going to rustle up a costume?” Grandad asked.
“You must have something suitable, Grandad.”
“Hang on!” Grandad said, running to the cupboard and pulling out a box.
“What’s this?” Harry said.
“Dust sheets – you know, for decorating. Basically, old curtains.”
Harry pulled one out. It was lime green with big purple stripes. “I suppose it’ll have to do,” Harry said, looking at it, trying to imagine a time when this sort of thing was fashionable.
6 p.m.
“Well, what do you think?” Grandad said, pulling on his mask and admiring their creations in the mirror. “Pretty good disguises, eh?”
“Only if we happen to be hiding in a rainbow. Look at us!” Harry stared at the multicoloured paint-splattered outfits. “And my trousers are loose,” Harry whined.
The Day I Got Zapped with Super Powers Page 2
