First Date (Minimum Wage Sidekick Book 2)

by Lucas Flint

  Instead, I said, “It’s probably because of his work. If he’s out traveling all the time, I bet that doesn’t help his mood very much.”

  “Yeah, his work is pretty stressful,” said Greta. “Especially whenever his employer—”

  Greta stopped speaking, like she’d just caught herself before she said something she would regret. That was definitely suspicious, prompting me to ask, “Greta, what were you going to say?”

  Greta turned around, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, and said, in a false cheerful voice, “Nothing, nothing at all. I was just rambling. I tend to do that, especially when I’m tired. Pay no attention to my tired ramblings.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I may not have been the most girl-smart guy in the world, but even I could tell when a girl was lying to me. And Greta was clearly making stuff up. Granted, it may have just been my own sleep-deprived brain making me see things that weren’t there, but I didn’t think so. I think she was lying to me, trying to hide something from me, and I was going to find out what.

  But before I could do anything, Greta said, “Anyway, I need to get to my next class. See you later!”

  Greta gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then ran out of the classroom. I just stood there, stunned, because I had not expected her to kiss me like that. The sensation of her lips had even briefly made me forget about trying to figure out what she was hiding from me. All I could think about was how nice her lips felt on my cheek … and how much nicer they would feel against my own lips …

  I shook my head. No. I couldn’t let myself get distracted. I would find out what Greta was hiding from me, one way or another, whether she wanted me to or not.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Of course, that was easier said than done, because I barely got to see Greta for the rest of the day. Because we were scheduled into different classrooms, we rarely got to see each other in class again. Even on the rare occasions we did have the same class, Greta would usually sit on the other side of the room away from me, her head buried in her textbook like she was trying to avoid looking at me. Either she suspected that I was onto her and knew she was lying to me or she was just in such a hurry to get through the school day that she didn’t want to waste time talking to me. I tried to keep an eye on her all day anyway, though given how little time we spent together, I didn’t learn much that I didn’t already know.

  We did have lunch together in the cafeteria, but we didn’t sit alone. Frank joined us, as did a couple of his fellow Beams Fan Club members, and the three of them dominated the entire lunch period by talking about Beams. Again, it was kind of weird to hear them speculating on Beams’ identity while I was sitting right there, but at the same time, I tried to focus more on Greta and tried to get her to talk. Unfortunately, she didn’t say very much and often redirected my questions to the Beams Fan Club members, who all spoke loudly enough that it was almost impossible to have a private conversation with her.

  So I gave up, expecting to catch her after school. Unfortunately, when school let out for the day, Greta was one of the first students out, and by the time I reached the front steps, she was long gone. I sent her a text, asking her to call me back when she had a moment, but because she did not respond right away, I doubted I would hear back from her for a while.

  So I made my way across town to the Elastic Cave to start work. As I descended into the Cave via the elevator, I wondered what Rubberman was going to have for me to do today. I had not received any emergency calls or texts from Rubberman about any urgent missions, so I assumed that I would spend the day training until it was time for me to go home. Not that I was complaining about that. I still felt inadequate after my utter failure to stop the Robber and was looking forward to a good training session. Especially if it would take my mind off of Greta. As much as I liked her, I was starting to realize that trying to pry the truth from her was like trying to claw open a seamless stone door with your bare fingers.

  When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, I stepped out into Level One and said, “Hi, boss! I’m ready to work!”

  But there was no answer. Level One appeared entirely empty of people, which was odd, because usually Adams, at the very least, could be found at Mission Control, monitoring the dozens of monitors which displayed various news stations and websites from around the country on the latest superhero news. Even Rubberman’s office door was closed shut and I did not see any lights streaming out from underneath it, either, which meant that Rubberman was not in his office, as he usually was.

  Scratching my head, I walked up to the Mission Control and clocked in before turning around. I looked to the left and to the right again, but I still did not see anyone.

  “Rubberman?” I said. “Adams? Anyone here?”

  All of a sudden, Adams poked his head out from underneath the archway which led to the kitchen and said, “Ah, Mr. Fry, I am pleased to see that you are on time. I was busy preparing Mr. Pullman’s dinner and did not hear you come down on the elevator.”

  “Is Rubberman still here?” I said as I walked over to Adams, holding onto my backpack with one hand. “Or has he gone somewhere?”

  “He’s still here,” said Adams. “He’s just—”

  A loud boom shook the floor, nearly throwing me off my feet. Adams, on the other hand, just looked over his shoulder as if this was a minor annoyance. He didn’t even stagger. I wondered if that balance came from his military training or not.

  “What was that?” I said, looking around in alarm. “It sounded like a bomb went off somewhere.”

  “Oh, that is probably just Mr. Simpson,” said Adams. “He and his sidekick, Cyberkid, came by today to train in the Rubber Room with Mr. Pullman. Mr. Simpson has never seen the Rubber Room before and wanted to train in it, especially because he doesn’t have access to his own training room back in North Wood at the moment.”

  Another boom followed Adams’ words, which came from behind the door to the Rubber Room on the other side of the room. I also heard the faint sound of rubber snapping, followed by wires being pulled and metal crunching underneath heavy weight.

  “It sounds like they’re tearing the Room apart in there,” I said. “How long have they been at it?”

  “Oh, I’d say half an hour or so,” said Adams. “Mr. Pullman asked me to tell you to put on your suit and join them when you get here. As you have now arrived, I highly suggest you go into your dressing room and get your costume on, before Mr. Simpson and Cyberkid see you and find out your real identity.”

  “Uh, okay, sure,” I said. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

  After a month of working for Rubberman, I’d learned the art of putting on my costume in a flash. Mere seconds after I entered my room, I swapped out my normal street clothes for my blue-and-yellow costume and helmet and was out in another few seconds, walking over to the door to the Rubber Room. I tried to ignore the delicious smells coming from the kitchen where Adams was busily at work, but it was hard, because even through my helmet, the smells managed to enter my nostrils and make my mouth water.

  Opening the door to the Rubber Room, I paused and stared at the sight that stood before me.

  Myster stood on the right side of the Rubber Room, struggling against two huge training robots, which were trying to squish him under the weight of their gigantic fists. Rubberman stood on the left side of the room, his body twisted around another, equally large training robot, though based on how hard he was struggling to stop the robot, it was pretty obvious that he was not doing much more than Myster. The two of them were probably going to be okay, since this was just a training simulation and all, but I couldn’t help but worry about them anyway. The walls were covered with blackened spots, perhaps from the explosions I’d heard earlier.

  “There you are,” said a voice to my right. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”

  Startled, I looked to my right. Cyberkid stood inside the metal safety box where spectators could stand while watching the training sessions. He was leaning against the w
all, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a sour look on his face.

  “Oh, hi there,” I said. I looked back at Rubberman and Myster and frowned. “I was told you were training with them, but instead you’re standing here.”

  Cyberkid snorted. “That’s because Myster thought my power would make the training robots too easy. He told me to stay out of this one, so I’ve just been watching him and Rubberman take on those robots for the past half hour or so. It’s not as exciting as it sounds, because the robots aren’t programmed to kill.”

  “You mean we might not get a chance to train at all?” I said. I snapped my fingers. “Dang it. Maybe I should have just went home today instead of going to work.”

  Cyberkid shrugged. “Who cares? I don’t like training all that much anyway, but your training room here is nowhere near as good as what we have back on the Mystery back in North Wood.”

  I frowned. “The Mystery? What’s that?”

  “Myster’s base,” said Cyberkid. “It’s an airship that can fly anywhere. A lot cooler than some hole in the ground, that’s for sure.”

  “An airship?” I repeated. “No way.”

  “Yes way,” said Cyberkid. “And, like I said, it’s cooler than this place.”

  “I think that’s debatable,” I said. “Airships are cool and all, but underground bases are pretty awesome, in my opinion.”

  “Only if you want to be buried alive by an earthquake, I suppose.”

  “At least it’s better than being shot out of the sky and dying when your airship crashes into the ground, anyway.”

  Cyberkid and I glared at each other. I still didn’t know what Cyberkid’s problem was with me. We barely even knew each other and yet he treated me like I had kicked his favorite puppy or something. Maybe Cyberkid was just a jerk; God knows there are plenty of guys at my school with an attitude like his, and quite a few girls, too.

  Before either Cyberkid or I could say anything else, however, Rubberman shouted, “Beams!” and I looked over to see Rubberman—his body still wrapped around the robot—smiling at me.

  “Hi, Beams!” said Rubberman, waving at me with an elongated hand. “I didn’t see you enter. Let Myster and I finish up here and we can talk.”

  Immediately, Rubberman untwisted his body from around the robot and landed behind it on his feet. The robot whirled around, raising a fist to bring down on him, but Rubberman hurled an elongated arm at the robot and wrapped his arm around its neck. With a grunt, Rubberman ripped the robot’s head off its body, causing its body to fall to the ground with an earth-shaking boom that made both me and Cyberkid stagger.

  At the same time, Myster let out a loud yell and shoved the robot fists off of him. The two robots staggered from the blow, but never got a chance to recover, because Myster flew through the air, smashing in each of their heads with a swift blow. The two robots fell to the floor just like the one Rubberman destroyed, and, just like the first one, the impact of their bodies shook the floor. Cyberkid leaned against the wall of the metal box for support, while I fell on my hands and knees.

  “There we go,” said Rubberman, throwing aside the robot head he had torn off. “That was a lot of fun, wouldn’t you say, Mark?”

  “It was good, I’ll grant you that,” said Myster, dusting off his hands. He creaked his neck. “But perhaps you should consider investing in sturdier robots. I know a great company that produces really high quality training robots for a low price. Just tell them that I sent you and they’ll be happy to give you a discount.”

  “Sounds good,” said Rubberman. “Training robots are a rather big expense, so I’ll have to check out that company, especially if they give discounts to people you refer to them.”

  I couldn’t believe how casually Rubberman and Myster were discussing business after taking out those robots. Sure, they hadn’t been in real danger, but if I had been nearly crushed to death by two robots or had ripped off the head of another, I don’t think I would have been in position to talk business afterward. I looked at Cyberkid, who didn’t look at all surprised at Myster’s attitude. Perhaps he’d seen Myster do this sort of thing before. It must have been another one of those things that came from years of experience.

  Rubberman and Myster walked over to us, while I scrambled back to my feet. Dusting off my knees, I saw robotic hands come from the walls and drag away the remains of the training robots, no doubt to properly dispose of them now that they were essentially glorified junk.

  “Good to see you, Beams,” said Rubberman when he and Myster stopped before us. “I was worried that you might be late, but you’re on time, so it’s all good.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I couldn’t help but notice that both Rubberman and Myster looked completely unharmed, which was pretty amazing. “Yeah, I’m ready for work today. What are we going to do? Track down ZZZ?”

  “No,” said Rubberman, shaking his head. “Myster and Cyberkid have been trying to find him, but no luck so far, right, Mark?”

  Myster nodded. “Yes. We actually searched the neighborhood around your house for any clues as to where ZZZ might be, but we didn’t find anything. He’s very good at covering his tracks, that one is.”

  I started. “Wait, my house? Do you mean you know my—”

  “No, we don’t know your real identity,” Myster interrupted me. “Dennis only gave us your neighborhood, but did not specify which house you live in. It made searching for clues about ZZZ hard, but even if we’d known where you live, it wouldn’t have helped us, given how good ZZZ is at covering his tracks.”

  I sighed in relief. The rules about keeping your identity a secret were extremely strict. I’d once heard a story about a sidekick who had lost his license after his girlfriend stumbled upon his costume in his closet and took a picture of it and accidentally uploaded it to a private social media account that only her family had access to. Even other superheroes and sidekicks weren’t allowed to know my identity, that’s how strict the rules were.

  “So if we’re not looking for ZZZ today, what are we going to do today?” I said, looking at Rubberman again. “Are we going to train together?”

  “Actually, Mark and I came up with a better idea,” said Rubberman. He gestured at Cyberkid. “You and Cyberkid can have a mock fight, to test each other’s skills and abilities.”

  I looked at Cyberkid, who again did not seem surprised. Perhaps he had already heard about this plan before. “Wait, you want us to fight each other? That seems kind of like a waste of time, if you ask me.”

  “Why?” asked Cyberkid with a smirk. “Afraid of getting beaten by me? Not that I blame you, given how powerful my ability is. It’s a bit disappointing, though, because Charlotte keeps talking about how ‘brave’ you are. I wonder what she will say when I tell her that you’re too scared to fight me.”

  I glared at Cyberkid again, but before I could say anything, Myster said, “Cyberkid, there’s no need for that attitude. This is just going to be a friendly spar. Nothing serious, just for fun.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Cyberkid, though I noticed that he didn’t sound very apologetic. “And when Beams rage quits after being unable to beat me, I won’t mock him for it. Unlike some sidekicks, I believe in good sportsmanship.”

  “But apparently not in humility,” I muttered, earning me a glare from Cyberkid, though I didn’t care because I figured he needed to be taken down a peg or two.

  “Yes, well, let’s just get onto the match,” said Rubberman. “Mark and I will be watching and will intervene if necessary, but I trust that both of you will show the proper restraint that this type of training session requires.”

  Cyberkid and I nodded, but deep down, I was actually looking forward to the fight. If fighting Cyberkid meant I’d get to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face, then I was all for it.

  Cyberkid and I walked onto the center of the room. We stood opposite each other about twelve or so feet apart. I took a fighting stance, raising my fists before me like how Rubberman had always taught me, while C
yberkid folded his arms in front of his chest as if he was going to take it easy. He didn’t look even remotely threatened by me. He was probably still thinking about how I’d fared against Lord Mechanika and how easily he’d be able to beat me. Too bad he was about to realize just how much he was underestimating my true power.

  “All right,” said Rubberman, who stood inside the metal safety box with Myster. “On the count of three, the fight will begin. One … two … three!”

  Without hesitation, I fired a powerful laser blast directly at Cyberkid. The blast would not kill him, but if it connected—and it definitely would, because my eye beams were almost as fast as the speed of light—it would stun him long enough for me to move in and get in a few good punches and kicks.

  But then, without warning, flames exploded from underneath Cyberkid’s feet and he flew into the air, propelled by what appeared to be flames coming out of his soles. My lasers completely missed him and struck the wall behind him instead.

  “What?” I said, looking up at Cyberkid in shock. “How did you do that?”

  “Rocket boots,” Cyberkid replied, gesturing at the rockets under his feet. “An invention I made myself. I can do more than just control machines, you know. Now, it’s my turn.”

  Cyberkid suddenly tapped a button on his right arm. His backpack detached from his back, spread its wings, and hovered beside him. It vaguely resembled a mechanical bat, though it was a very vague resemblance.

  “This is my drone,” said Cyberkid, gesturing at the bat. “Another invention of mine. I call it Zip.”

  “Zip?” I repeated. “That’s a pretty lame name.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Cyberkid, pouting somewhat. “And anyway, its name doesn’t matter. The fact that it is faster than you, however, does.”

  All of a sudden, Zip flew toward me. I fired a laser beam at it, but Zip dodged the beam easily and quickly. I tried to fire another beam at it, but Zip slammed its wings into my face, knocking me flat on my back. My helmet protected my skull from the worst of the impact, but I was still somewhat dazed.