Secret Supervillain

by Alesha Dixon

  I set to work searching my room, looking in my desk drawers, under the bed, in my wardrobe – it wasn’t there. Which means that someone had taken it, and I knew exactly who that was.

  I raced downstairs, my heart thudding against my chest in anger.

  “Aunt Lucinda!” I said, bursting into the kitchen. “Where is it?”

  She looked up from her cup of tea in surprise. She was standing beside Mum and Dad, unable to sit down with their tea because Alfred was lying on his front across the kitchen table, his wings stretched out, loud snores emanating from his beak.

  Alfred was partial to spontaneous afternoon naps.

  “Where is what, darling?”

  “My book!”

  “What book?” She looked to Mum and Dad for help but they just shrugged.

  “You know what book,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She was good. Really good. I couldn’t say anything about the book in front of Mum and Dad because that would give everything away. I didn’t even know if Dad had noticed it was missing from his office yet.

  “You were lurking outside my room the other day when I was talking about the … study book. And I know you were interested in that study book. But it’s very important that you give it back because I need it for…’

  I tried to think of a reason.

  “Study?” Mum suggested.

  “Precisely.”

  Aunt Lucinda laughed. “I didn’t borrow your study book, Aurora. What on earth would I need a study book for? I wasn’t lurking outside your room either, I came up to ask you if you wanted a hot chocolate.”

  I wasn’t fooled. Aunt Lucinda is a very good actress and I was going to resist any powers of persuasion that came my way.

  “Your room is very messy, Aurora,” Mum pointed out. “Maybe your book is somewhere under the piles of clothes.”

  “No, I’ve checked.”

  “You want me to have a look with you?” Dad volunteered. “I’m very good at this sort of thing.”

  “Oh, Henry!” Mum sighed. “You are the worst at that sort of thing.”

  “Aunt Lucinda!” I cried out in frustration. “I know it was you who took my book!”

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong,” she said calmly, taking a sip of tea. “But if I come across this obviously important book, I’ll be sure to let you know. What was it about?”

  She knew I couldn’t say. She knew. I pursed my lips and then turned on my heel without another word, storming back upstairs.

  “It’s funny. When you’re that age” – I heard Aunt Lucinda say innocently, as I stomped up each step – “the smallest thing can feel like the end of the world.”

  14

  “Oh no,” Miss Nimble groaned, her eyes wide with fear. “Has anyone seen Fred Pepe?”

  I looked over my shoulder down the beautiful cobbled street and when I couldn’t see him, turned back and shrugged along with everyone else in our class.

  “He’ll be around here somewhere, Miss Nimble,” Suzie said, adjusting today’s bright blue beret. “Don’t worry about him.”

  “It’s not Fred I’m worried about,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips. “With him on the loose, it’s the city of Paris that has my concern.”

  We had been in Paris for a few hours and Fred had already managed to: anger the staff in the Eurotunnel when he kept burping louder and louder to test the echo scale of the train; cause chaos at the hotel when we dropped off our bags by attempting to climb out on to the roof in order to get a better view before getting stuck on the fire escape; accidentally hit a stranger, who he thought was Suzie, round the head with a freshly baked baguette; and jumped out at Miss Nimble from behind a big statue making her scream so loudly that all these French police officers came running over to check that she was all right.

  So, it was understandable that Miss Nimble and the other teachers on the trip were worried when he disappeared from sight.

  As we waited for Fred to appear, I thought about how amazing Paris was. Kizzy was right, there was so much to see and do here, but I honestly would have been happy just wandering around the city all day because even the streets seemed beautiful. Off the busy, main tourist areas, there were all these winding paths and cobbled alleyways, lined with loads of colourful buildings, and cute little cafés that had all these wonky tables and chairs outside.

  The thing was, I just couldn’t seem to be able to enjoy it properly. I was still filled with worry about the precious-stone book and where it could be. Aunt Lucinda hadn’t admitted yet that she’d taken it and it hadn’t turned up anywhere at home. The Bright Sparks kept telling me not to stress about it, but it wasn’t their superpowers that were in jeopardy.

  What if someone really was planning to take the superpowers away from the Beams?

  It was weird to think about how not even a year ago I had no idea that my mum was a superhero or that my family had this centuries-long history of saving the world from bad guys. I had been so terrified of my superpowers and the change they were bringing to my life and my friends, that at one point I’d even decided that I didn’t want them any more.

  Now, the idea of my ability to shoot light beams from my hands being taken away made me feel sick. Being Lightning Girl was an important part of my identity these days.

  I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

  The rest of the Bright Sparks didn’t seem to be having that problem. They had thrown themselves into the school trip with every ounce of energy they’d had. Suzie seemed to have purchased an entire new wardrobe just for the few days that we were here, and Kizzy had been busy informing the whole class about the history of every street we walked down. She had researched it so well that other interested tourists had joined the back of our group when Kizzy had stopped to fill us in about the different buildings we were passing.

  Georgie had practically exploded when we’d walked into a square brimming with boutique fashion shops and elegant townhouses. She managed to persuade Miss Nimble to give her five minutes to explore one, before emerging wearing a new pair of sunglasses and a blue and gold neck scarf. When I’d asked her how she’d afforded to buy them, she said that the designer had given them to her for free when Georgie had slipped into conversation that she was Lightning Girl’s personal stylist.

  And Fred… Well, Fred seemed to be on a mission to cause as much trouble abroad as possible.

  “There he is!” Suzie cried out, pointing ahead of us.

  Fred was sitting in front of a street artist having his caricature done.

  Miss Nimble breathed a sigh of relief and then ushered us all to continue following her down the road towards him.

  “This bag is so heavy,” Kizzy said, stopping to catch her breath and putting her bag on the ground in between her feet. “Let’s just have a quick breather. The group will have to wait for Fred before moving on now anyway.”

  “What have you got in there?” Suzie asked, eyeing up Kizzy’s enormous backpack.

  “Just a few bits and pieces. My pencil case and stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff? It looks as though you’ve got a huge encyclopaedia in there or something ridiculous,” Georgie laughed.

  Kizzy crouched down and unzipped her backpack revealing its contents: a huge encyclopaedia.

  Georgie blinked at her. “Oh.”

  “This is the ultimate encyclopaedia on French culture,” Kizzy explained, heaving it out, resting it on her knees and flicking through the hundreds of pages. “I thought it might come in handy as a point of reference.”

  “HELLO. We have phones for that sort of thing now,” Suzie said, looking at Kizzy as though she had lost her mind. “We don’t need to lug around books with us any more. Everything is right here.”

  She waggled her pink phone in Kizzy’s face. Kizzy frowned in response.

  “I’m sure the encyclopaedia will come in super handy. Phones don’t have the kind of information books do,” I said,
receiving a grateful smile from Kizzy. “Like the precious-stone book, for example.”

  Suzie rolled her eyes at Georgie.

  “You’re not still going on about that book, are you?” She sighed. “It’s probably just under your bed.”

  “I checked there and it’s not,” I told her stubbornly. “Someone took it.”

  “Maybe it was your dad,” Georgie suggested gently. “Maybe he went into your room for something, saw it and thought he’d take it back without getting you into trouble.”

  “Why wouldn’t he just tell me that? No, I think it was Aunt Lucinda.”

  “But even if it was, is it that big a problem?” Georgie said. “If it’s important enough for her to take, then she’ll show it to Nanny Beam and your mum, and it will help them find this criminal who has the Light of the World.”

  “You don’t know my aunt like I do,” I said. “She doesn’t always do things for the greater good, trust me. And she has a thing for precious stones.”

  “Looks like we’re moving,” Suzie pointed out, nodding at Miss Nimble who was instructing the group to gather together now that Fred had his caricature neatly tucked under his arm.

  Kizzy shoved her encyclopaedia back into her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. We caught up with the rest of the class and Fred proudly held up the piece of art for us to admire as we continued down the street.

  “Cool, isn’t it?”

  Suzie wrinkled her nose at the chalk drawing. “It’s hardly a da Vicky.”

  “Da Vinci,” Kizzy corrected.

  “That’s the one,” Suzie said.

  “I don’t ever want to leave Paris,” Fred announced cheerily. “It’s awesome here, isn’t it?”

  The others nodded. I was too lost in my thoughts to pay attention and Fred noticed.

  “Aurora?” he prompted. “What do you think of Paris?”

  “It’s wonderful,” I agreed hurriedly. “I just wish that—”

  “Let me guess,” he interrupted, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “You just wish that you didn’t have to be in this amazing city with your best friends and the best food in the world, because you’d rather be in the library researching jewellery thieves. Am I close?”

  “When you put it like that, it sounds awful,” I admitted. “But you’re pretty much spot on.”

  “That’s ENOUGH.”

  Suzie suddenly halted us in our tracks and came to stand right in front of me with her hands on her hips, her eyebrows furrowed in determination.

  “Aurora Beam, I order you to stop worrying about something out of your control.”

  “But—”

  “No buts!” she cried. “Look, you’re my friend and I am not going to let my friend miss out on this amazing Paris experience. You need to give yourself a break.”

  “Suzie’s right,” Georgie agreed. “I haven’t seen you relaxed in … for ever.”

  “I’ll relax when the Light of the World is back where it should be, just like Darek said,” I told them. “But I am sorry for going on about it. I appreciate it must be boring.”

  “No, it’s not boring. We know it’s important,” Suzie said firmly, flicking her hair back instinctively over her shoulders and then immediately afterwards checking that her beret was still perfectly in place. “But we also worry about you. You have a lot on your shoulders, being a world-famous superhero and everything, and I feel that it is our job as your best friends to remind you when it is time to think selfishly for once and enjoy yourself.”

  “Wow,” Fred said, looking impressed. “Suzie is actually making a lot of sense. Strange.”

  “She is!” Kizzy laughed. “And I completely agree with her. Come on, Aurora, why don’t you give yourself a day off and enjoy Paris with us? You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  “If you need any more persuading, then I think you should come here,” Georgie said.

  She had walked a few paces ahead and was standing at the corner of the road, around which the teachers and rest of the class had disappeared. Georgie ushered for us to come and see. We did as she said and took a few steps forward, before turning the corner.

  There, looming over us, was the Eiffel Tower.

  I’ve seen it so many times in films and pictures, but that was nothing to seeing it in real life. It was completely breathtaking.

  “Whoa,” Fred said. “That is one tall tower.”

  “One thousand and sixty-three feet tall to be exact,” Kizzy said, staring up at it.

  I was just searching for the words to describe how wonderful it was when a group of teenagers came running towards me in excitement.

  “LIGHTNING GIRL! IT’S LIGHTNING GIRL!” one of them shouted at the top of her lungs, causing everyone around us to suddenly turn their heads in our direction.

  In just a few moments, we were surrounded by people asking for pictures with me, with the Eiffel Tower in the background, and Miss Nimble came bustling over to make sure I was all right. Georgie, Fred, Suzie and Kizzy jostled with phones that were thrust towards them, attempting to take all the pictures requested. I posed for all of them, my jaw aching from smiling so much.

  “Please can you shoot light beams out of your hands, Lightning Girl?” a little boy asked after he’d had his picture taken with me.

  “Uh, I don’t think—”

  “Pleeeeeeeeease?” he pleaded, his big brown eyes gazing up at me.

  “S’il vous plaît, Fille Foudre!” a girl on the other side of me added.

  I bit my lip and looked to Miss Nimble. “I guess I could. Do you think anyone would mind?”

  She grinned. “No, Lightning Girl, if you want to do so, I don’t think anyone would mind.”

  “All right, then,” I said, prompting loud cheers and whoops.

  Everyone shuffled back to give me a bit of space and Kizzy gave me a thumbs up, while Georgie flicked her sunglasses down from the top of her head and over her eyes in preparation.

  I held my hands up above my head, pointing my palms towards the sky, and closed my eyes in concentration. Sparks shot from my fingertips and then suddenly bright glittering light beams burst from my palms, sending a controlled wave of energy rippling across my audience who stood in awe as the beams reached the top of the Eiffel Tower. As I brought my hands down, everyone burst into rapturous applause.

  “No matter how many times I see it,” Kizzy said, coming to stand next to me, “it never gets old.”

  “PLEASE can you do that again when we get to the top?” Georgie asked. “It would make the ultimate snapchat.”

  “Great idea, Georgie!” Suzie exclaimed. “And I can do a handstand at the top, too. That would look good.”

  “A handstand at the top! Don’t – you’re already giving me the heebie-jeebies.” Kizzy grimaced, gulping as we made our way towards the lift. “I’ve always been a bit funny about heights.”

  “Don’t worry, Kizzy,” Fred said. “It’s only – what did you say it was? Oh yeah – one thousand and sixty-three feet tall.”

  The colour drained from Kizzy’s face and I laughed, linking my arm through hers and excitedly dragging her to one of the most famous sights in the world. Suzie was right. I was finally letting myself have some fun with my best friends, and just had to forget about everything else and be in the moment, otherwise I’d regret it.

  We got in the lift and I traced the swirled scar on my palm with my forefinger before clenching my fist and looking up.

  For now, the Light of the World was out of my hands.

  15

  Strolling through the entrance of the Louvre Museum the next day, Suzie let out a long sigh and looked as though she was about to burst into tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Georgie asked. “Did Fred steal your beret again?”

  “No, it’s safely in my bag. I took it off for the cathedral. Thanks for reminding me.” She reached into her bag and pulled her beret out from it. “Notre-Dame has made me feel so sad. I can’t stop thinking about it and it’s making me feel blue.
”

  “Really?” Georgie glanced at me. “I thought it was amazing. All that gothic architecture is so intimidating. Kind of scary, in a cool way.”

  “It was. But while we were in there, Kizzy was telling me all about the book, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame by Victor Hugo. It’s so tragic,” she said, her bottom lip wobbling. “Imagine poor Quasimodo locked away up there as a bell-ringer. It must have been so lonely.”

  “You do know that didn’t actually happen, right?” Fred said impatiently. “It was just a story some dude made up.”

  “That dude saved the cathedral,” Suzie snapped. “The cathedral was crumbling and no one was bothering to restore it until he wrote that book. It was so popular that they decided to restore it after all.”

  “How do you know that?” Georgie asked, looking impressed.

  “Kizzy told me all about it. Her encyclopaedia had a whole page dedicated to the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and his tragic love story.” Suzie sighed dramatically again.

  “Speaking of Kizzy,” Fred began, seeming keen to change the subject, “where has she got to?”

  “She was very excited to get going on ticking off the Louvre highlights sheet. I think she’s gone ahead,” I said, getting out the museum guide and examining it. “We can find her on our way around.”

  “I think we should start here,” Fred said firmly, pointing at the map of the museum first floor.

  I looked up at him. “Fred. That’s a café.”

  “Correct,” he nodded, before his stomach rumbled loudly right on cue. “I think it’s about time for a croissant.”

  “I think it’s always time for a croissant in Paris,” Georgie said. “Why do they taste a hundred times better here?”

  “Before we make our way to the croissants, I think we should go see the Mona Lisa,” I suggested, pleased to see everyone nodding in agreement. “I have a feeling we might find our missing Spark.”

  I was right. We made our way to the famous Mona Lisa and I wasn’t surprised to find a crowd of people gathered round it, holding up their phones and cameras. I was surprised, though, to hear a familiar voice floating through the silence.