The Last Superhero

by Kristin Butcher

  And me? I just wanted to turn the clock back and pretend nothing had happened.

  The next morning I woke up feeling like I had an anvil on my chest. And then I remembered my comic. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to escape into sleep again, but the ache inside wouldn't let me. So I just dragged myself out of bed and got ready for school.

  The day was even colder than the one before, -36° ith the wind chill, according to the weather guy on the radio, but Dad was prepared. Before he left for work, he piled twenty pounds of winter gear by the front door. Parka, hat, scarf, socks, ski pants, boots—you name it, it was there. Debra had told him about my snowman impersonation of the day before, so he wasn't taking any chances. I'm surprised he hadn't pinned my gloves to the sleeves of my coat! Five minutes outside, though, and I was grateful for all those layers. In fact, I wouldn't have minded a few more.

  It wasn't snowing—it was too cold for that—but the wind was making its own blizzard with the white stuff already on the ground. Swirling snow collected in wobbly drifts that leaned across the sidewalk like abstract sculptures. On a warmer day—if I'd been in a better mood—I might have taken time to admire them, but with my eyes watering from the cold the way they were and my mind pre-occupied with my ruined comic, I plowed on without a second glance.

  Usually there are clumps of kids hanging around outside the school, but when I arrived that morning, the place looked totally deserted. It made me wonder if classes had been cancelled.

  I climbed the steps and pulled on the door. It opened. Rats! I sighed and let myself into the building. And right away, I had to pee. It's weird how the combination of cold and warm does that to you. Anyway, when you gotta go, you gotta go, so I headed straight for my locker to strip down and then tore off to the guys' can.

  The place was empty, so I stepped up to the nearest urinal, and while I relieved myself, I read the graffiti on the wall. I always do that. But this morning there was something new. Most of the stuff was scribbled in ballpoint pen, but this particular bit of graffiti was in black felt marker, and it was way bigger than everything else, so it stood out like a hippo in a fish tank. I guess that's why I noticed it.

  Ross Melnyk wets his bed.

  That's what it said. I stopped peeing in midstream and read it again. And one more time after that. Then I started to laugh. It's not that I believed it was true, but it sure was funny, especially when I thought about how Peewee was going to react when he saw it. He was going to go straight up and turn left. His ego was going to be so beat up, it might never recover. And if Peewee got his hands on the guy who'd written that, he'd probably kill him.

  Suddenly I stopped laughing. I knew exactly who'd written it—and it wasn't a guy.

  If Wren was behind the graffiti, I was betting she'd done it in all the washrooms. I zipped my pants and took off.

  I was right. Well, about the guys' cans anyway. I didn't look in the girls' washrooms. The wording was a little different each time, but the message was the same. The marker was the same too—probably the one Peewee had been planning to use on Wren. Knowing Wren, she'd chosen it for exactly that reason. Poetic justice and all that.

  During my washroom chase around the school, I hadn't seen her, but I was sure she was there somewhere—and I had to find her before Peewee did.

  I hung around her locker until the bell rang, then I cruised by her home room before heading to my own.

  But she wasn't in either place. For someone who dressed as loud as she did, she had an amazing ability to become invisible when she wanted to. Between classes, I kept my eyes peeled for her in the hallways, but again no luck, and when the last morning period arrived, I started to think that maybe she wasn't at school after all. Then suddenly there she was, grinning and waving at me through the window of my classroom door.

  At the end of the period, I headed straight for her locker. Peewee had to have seen the graffiti by now, and if he had, he'd be out for blood. Wren's locker was probably the first place he'd go. She must have figured that too, because she never showed. Come to think of it, neither did Peewee.

  They weren't in the lunchroom either. My next stop was the art room. I hadn't picked up the key that day—thanks to Peewee, I didn't have a project to work on anymore—but maybe Wren figured I'd go there anyway.

  Outside the art room I called her name. No answer. Thinking she might have climbed into a locker while she waited, I walked up and down the hall, searching for one that was open. But there was nothing. There was no sign of Wren anywhere. And even worse, there was no sign of Peewee. What if he was a step ahead of me? What if he'd already found her?

  Remembering the last time he'd abducted her, I bolted for the Tombs. But that turned out to be a dead end too.

  I was stumped. I'd checked out all the hideouts Wren used when she needed to lie low, and she wasn't in any of them. There was only one place left to look. The eating part of lunch hour was over, so I headed for the library. It should be about to open, and if Wren really needed a safe place, that's where she'd go.

  As usual, Miss Holmes was late; she was just unlocking the door as I arrived.

  “Well, hello, Jas,” she smiled.

  “Hi, Miss Holmes,” I replied and got right to the point. “Have you seen Wren?”

  The smile faded from the librarian's face, and her eyes darted along the hallway. “No. Not yet. But then the library has only been open three seconds.”

  I knew Miss Holmes was trying to be funny, but I wasn't really in a joking mood. I turned to the library regulars.

  “Have any of you guys seen Wren?”

  A couple of them shrugged and shook their heads. The rest didn't even acknowledge they'd heard me.

  And that's when I totally lost it. I don't know if it was worrying about Wren that finally got to me, if it was frustration over the apathetic attitude of these kids, or if with everything else that had happened, I'd just reached my breaking point. But I freaked on them.

  “Listen to me! This is really important! I need to find Wren. She could be in big trouble. Have any of you seen her?”

  They stared at me like a bunch of droids.

  “Wake up!” I hollered. “Stop acting like you don't hear me or you don't know what I'm talking about. Wren has saved every one of your sorry butts a dozen times over. The least you could do is take a second to think about the last time you saw her. If you know where she is, tell me!”

  Their lifeless expressions instantly turned to fear, and they inched closer to the library.

  I tried again. “Look,” I said through clenched teeth. I was making an all out effort not to yell. “I really have to find Wren.”

  Once more I was answered with silence. Disgusted, I turned to leave.

  And that's when someone finally spoke up. “I saw her at the end of last period.”

  I swivelled around and looked into the face of a tall skinny guy with glasses.

  “Where?”

  “She was headed toward the west hall.”

  The west hall? Wren didn't have any classes in that part of the school, and it wasn't on the way to her locker. What was she doing down there?

  I could feel myself frowning. “Was she alone?”

  The kid nodded. “Yeah, but—” He stopped.

  “But what?”

  “That creep was following her.”

  My stomach lurched. “What creep?”

  For a split second, loathing contorted the kid's face. “You know the one. That Ross Melnyk guy.”

  SIXTEEN

  What makes you think he was following her?” The kid was probably right, but I had to be sure. “How do you know he wasn't just walking down the hall?”

  “I'm not stupid,” he snapped.

  Surprise set me back on my heels. This kid had an attitude. Was there life in the library regulars after all?

  The kid glared at me and went on. “Melnyk never took his eyes off Wren for a second. Why would he stare like that if he wasn't following her? Besides, when she looked
around, he turned away real fast and pretended he was at a locker. He was tailing her all right.”

  I wanted to yell, Then why didn't you warn Wren?, but it wouldn't do any good now, so I just nodded.

  “I w-w-was in s-s-s-science last p-p-period,” another boy timidly filled the sudden silence, his eyes darting nervously around the little group. “I didn't s-s-see Wrren,” he explained, “b-b-but I s-saw Melnyk's f-f-f-friend.” Painstakingly pushing his way through every word, the kid stuttered out his story.

  Seems he'd gone to the washroom during the period, and on his way back he'd seen Garth messing with the door to the multi-purpose room, which is a kind of theatre, auditorium and band room all rolled into one. Anyway, it has one of those doors that automatically locks when you shut it, and Garth was covering the latch bolt with duct tape.

  “So he could get back in after class,” Cassidy said. “He probably wanted to steal something.”

  “Or wreck something,” someone else suggested.

  “I don't think so.” I shook my head and started toward the west hall.

  “Then what?” Cassidy called after me.

  I glanced back over my shoulder. “He was making sure Peewee had somewhere to take Wren.” Then I started to run.

  To my surprise, the library regulars were right behind me. I wouldn't exactly say we made a thundering herd, but people did clear out of our way, and when we passed a couple of teachers, they didn't even get on our case for running in the hall. That's probably because they thought they were hallucinating. I mean there was a better chance of seeing unicorns charging through the school than the library regulars.

  The west hall is actually more of a horseshoe than a hall. You get in and out through two sets of double doors that open into a big octagon with a display case in the center. Once into the horseshoe, I made straight for the multi-purpose room and reefed on the door. All it did was rattle. It was locked. The tall skinny kid with glasses—he said his name was Ray—handed me a balled-up wad of duct tape.

  “It was over there,” he said, gesturing to the floor near the display case.

  “Darn!” I rattled the door again then slammed my open hand against the jamb. Wren was in there. I was sure of it. But how was I going to get her out?

  “A teacher probably saw the tape and took it off” someone said.

  “And threw it on the floor?” I replied. “I doubt it.”

  Then I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered through the glass of the door. The room was in total darkness, except for a sliver of light beneath a door at the back of the stage area on the bottom tier.

  I looked around for the kid who'd seen Garth taping the lock. “You see that door down there?” I asked, stabbing a knuckle at the window.

  He looked through the glass and nodded.

  “Where does it go?”

  “To a s-s-storage room,” he stuttered. “It's w-w-w-where d-deliveries c-c-c-come to the s-school.”

  “Is there another way to get into it?”

  The kid nodded, but it was Ray who answered. “There are a couple of overhead doors to the outside. That's where the delivery trucks unload stuff.”

  “Then that's how we're going to get in,” I announced.

  “Why do we need to get in?” Brady demanded.

  “Because that's where Wren is.”

  “You don't know that,” he argued.

  “Not for sure,” I admitted. “But I know she's missing. So are Peewee and Garth. And all the clues lead here. I don't know about you, but I'd rather get in there and find out I'm wrong than do nothing and find out too late that I was right.”

  “The overhead doors will be locked,” Ray pointed out.

  “Probably. But what other choice do we have? If nothing else, maybe we can scare Peewee out.”

  “Why don't we just tell the principal?” Cassidy suggested.

  “Go for it,” I said. It couldn't hurt to tell the office what was going on, but on the other hand, it might not help much either. There was no telling which teachers were around during lunch hour or how quick they'd come, and I wasn't willing to wait around for a cavalry that wasn't in a hurry to show up.

  Cassidy nodded, then she and another girl took off for the office.

  I turned to the rest of the regulars. “A couple of people should stay here and keep an eye on this door. If this is how Peewee got in, chances are he'll come out the same way.”

  Another girl and a guy volunteered to stand guard.

  “Okay,” I said, looking around. “I'm going to get my coat and head outside to the overhead doors. If anybody else wants to come, I'll meet you at the west exit in three minutes.”

  There are nine library regulars. Two reported to the office, two others kept watch on the multi-purpose room, and the other five went outside with me.

  The temperature probably hadn't changed much since the morning, but we were walking directly into the wind, and within seconds my cheekbones were aching and my eyes were watering. Once we turned the corner of the building, the wind started coming at us from the side instead of the front, and that helped a bit, but it was still freezing cold.

  “Over there ,” Ray pointed straight ahead.

  I blinked to clear my vision. Then, squinting against the blinding white snow, I spied two big grey metal doors halfway along the school wall.

  I nodded and started trudging toward them. It was tough going. All morning the wind had been hurling snow against the school, and hip-high drifts blocked the way. But it was going to take more than a pile of snow to stop me. The others followed behind in my footsteps.

  I was so focused on carving a path that I wasn't looking more than three feet in front of me. It was Brady who spotted the overhead door opening.

  He poked me in the shoulder. “Look.”

  As the door went up, the snowdrift leaning against it tumbled inside, and Peewee appeared, making a half-hearted attempt to kick it out again. Garth was right behind him, and he was dragging Wren. She was gagged just like when they'd taken her to the Tombs, but this time it looked like they'd used duct tape. Her wrists were taped too, but her feet weren't and she was kicking and squirming every which way, trying to break free. Garth dropped her once, but steering clear of her wind-milling legs, he grabbed her arms again and continued to haul her away from the school. Peewee followed behind.

  What the heck was he up to? He wasn't wearing a coat. Neither was Garth. Obviously they weren't planning on staying outside. Maybe they were just going to dump Wren and leave her. Her feet weren't tied up, so she'd still be able to get to a door before she froze to death. If they had something worse in mind, the library regulars and I would just have to stop them.

  I turned to the little band behind me. “Make as much noise as you can,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Just do it!” Then I started screaming my head off.

  “Melnyk, you moron! You better hope the principal catches you before I do, because I'm going to rip your freakin’ face off.”

  As Peewee turned to look, the library regulars started hooting and hollering too. We were pushing through the drifted snow as fast as we could, and little by little we were gaining ground.

  But Peewee didn't look worried. He just gave me the finger and picked up a handful of snow. I thought maybe he was going to pelt us with snowballs, but instead, he went to where Garth was holding Wren and—planting himself behind her to avoid getting kicked—he gave her a major face wash, scrubbing the snow hard into her skin. Even through the duct tape covering her mouth, I could hear Wren's muffled scream.

  Laughing his guts out, Peewee stumbled back toward the overhead door. When he was in position to pull it closed, Garth pushed Wren down onto the snow and headed back too.

  But before he'd gone two steps, Wren was back on her feet. If her hands had been free, she probably would have thrown herself on his back, but tied up like she was, she had to settle for kicking him hard behind the knee. It was still pretty effective. He yelped and sank into a he
ap on the snow.

  Peewee wheeled around just as Wren lowered her head and charged.

  I was almost there. Another ten feet, and I would've been able to help her. But close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, so when Peewee swung out and caught Wren across the cheek, there was nothing I could do but watch. The blow lifted her right off the ground and threw her backwards.

  Peewee didn't hang around to see her land. With Garth right behind him, he jumped back into the school and hauled down the overhead door. But the toppled snowdrift was in the way, and even with both of them reefing on the door, it wouldn't close. Then the library regulars arrived to guarantee it wouldn't close.

  I hurried over to Wren and fell on my knees. A shiver ran through me, but it wasn't because of the cold. Wren's taped hands were crossed over her chest like a corpse laid out in a coffin. I pushed the image out of my mind. “Wren! Are you okay?”

  She didn't answer. She didn't move either.

  I looked at her more closely. Her eyes were shut, and except for the black letters scrawled across her forehead, her skin was ghostly pale. The fall must have knocked her out. I knew I shouldn't move her in case she had broken something, but if I left her where she was, she would die of cold.

  “Brady, Ray,” I called. “Come and help me.” Then I slid an arm under Wren's shoulders to raise her off the ground.

  That's when I noticed the bloody snow.

  SEVENTEEN

  Wren came to before the ambulance arrived. She was on a cot in the nurse's room wound up so tight in a blanket, it could have been a cocoon—or maybe a strait jacket. Considering she woke up every bit as mad as when she'd passed out, it was probably a good thing her arms weren't free, otherwise she might have slugged someone. There were certainly enough targets.