Meena’s cries softened into sniffles. But Sonny shook his head fiercely. “No!” he screamed. Tears and snot were running down his face. He wiped them on the cape.
Feh! Feh! Pfu! Pfu!
“Sonny, it’s just a crummy old towel. Give it to me now,” Raj ordered as he grabbed hold of the cape.
Sonny kicked him.
“Ow! Ow!” Raj rubbed his leg. “No hurting!”
Sonny lay down on the floor. He rolled himself up in the cape. “Miiine!” he wailed.
The guys all looked at one another.
“You two take his head,” Raj told El and Kev. “Fin and I will take his feet.” Together, the guys lifted Sonny off the floor. They set him on the bed and began to unroll him. Sonny twisted, squirmed, and cried. He bit down on the cape.
Aiyyyaaa!!!
“Let go, Sonny,” Finch said. “You’ll tear my cape.”
“Rrrrrrrr,” Sonny growled through his teeth.
Finch leaned over and whispered to Elliott. “Do you have your rubber snot with you? Maybe he’ll trade it for it.”
“Forget it! It comes from England! It cost five bucks plus seven more for shipping and handling.”
“Come on, El, it isn’t magic snot. You can get another one. I’ll help you pay for it,” Finch pleaded.
“Oookaaay.” El stuck his hand into his pocket. “But how come if the Thinking Cape is so smart, it can’t save itself?”
15
SUPER-TRADE
Stomach churning, Finch hurried home with the Thinking Cape around his shoulders. It had asked to feel fresh air and sunshine. How could he refuse—it had practically saved his life today! If he ran into any of the neighbors, he planned to say it was his costume for a play at school.
“Cape, I’ve been wondering about something. Didn’t I hear your voice in my head before I guessed your name?”
Yes, Master.
“But isn’t it against the rules? You said you’re only supposed to speak to those who know you’re a Thinking Cape.”
Yes, Master, it is true. Since the day you found me, I hoped you would be the one to uncover my identity. It seemed that you were getting close when you suddenly decided to toss me away. So I gave you a little help in order to change your mind.
“You broke the rules?”
Not broke, Master—bent. I never spoke the words Thinking Cape in your head. You puzzled them out on your own.
“It was just luck,” Fin said. They were in front of his house now. He pressed the doorbell. Then he thought of one more question. “What happened to all the other capes from your cape maker’s shop? Do you know where they are now?”
Nay, Master. I think perchance I am alone in the world.
Finch reached up and stroked his shoulder. He’d never thought about the cape being lonely. “Maybe they’re just in hiding—like you,” he whispered.
Suddenly the door flew open. “What do you want?” Mimi snapped. She’d tied a red bandanna over her hair, and she was wearing an old T-shirt with nail-polish stains. She looked more like Gloria, the cleaning lady, than her usual supermodelish self.
“Doh—I live here.” Finch pushed past her into the house and stomped toward his room. But a mountain of junk in the hallway stopped him. Rosie and Cubby were climbing over it as if it were some new kind of ferret jungle gym.
“What’s this stuff doing here?” he asked as he picked up a pair of old shin guards.
“I’m having a yard sale to raise money for the tuition to private school.” Mimi was right behind him.
“But these are mine.”
“So? They’re too small for you, anyway. You haven’t worn them since first grade.”
“You can’t have them!” Finch hugged the plastic shields to his chest. “I’m saving them for when Jake gets bigger.”
“Uh-huh.” Mimi pursed her lips in the same unconvinced look his mother sometimes gave him.
He ignored her and eyed the rest of the stuff she’d collected. Piles of paperbacks; old figure skates (Rosie now had her head in one); a little pink backpack; a Barbie bus (Cubby was climbing into it); a Betty Crocker Easy-Bake Oven that Finch had once secretly yearned for himself; his stuffed tiger, Daniel; and—
“Hey!” he yelped. “You can’t sell Daniel.”
“Why not? You don’t play with it anymore. We should definitely sell this, too. I can’t believe you’re actually wearing it.” Mimi plucked the cape off Fin’s shoulders and tossed it onto the pile.
O sister with tongue of vicious venom!
“Give that back!” Finch yanked the cape off a rickety old ferret cage. It was the one the pet store had given them free for buying two baby ferrets. Since then, they’d bought Rosie and Cubby a super-deluxe ferret condo.
“I thought you were through with superheroes.”
“I am. But this cape is my . . . my . . . history!” Finch sputtered.
Mimi fingered the satin strings thoughtfully. “I remember when you brought this thing home from the garage sale. For a secondhand towel, it’s in amazingly good shape. It doesn’t look worn out at all.”
Finch shrugged. “Maybe it’s because it doesn’t get washed very often.”
Mimi sniffed the cape. “It doesn’t even stink. I bet I could get two dollars for it.”
Two dollars? My first master paid five chests of gold for me.
“Well, you can’t have it—or any of my stuff.” Finch tugged the strings out of her hand. He took a good look at the pile again. “You’re selling your shell collection?”
Mimi eyed the box of shells scornfully. “I got most of them with Kelly two years ago when her parents took us to Cape Cod. I don’t want them anymore.”
“Can I have them?” Finch was already reaching for the box.
“Nope—not unless you let me have your junk to sell.”
“All right. I guess you can have these.” Finch held out the shin guards.
“What about the rest?”
“What? The shin guards are worth more than those shells.”
“Not to me.” Mimi started to walk away. “I’m going to check the spare room for more stuff.”
Finch took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll let you have Daniel. Just don’t sell him to anyone with little kids that look like biters or kickers.” He gave the scraggly tiger a farewell pat.
Mimi tossed Daniel back on her pile. “What about the cape?”
“I’M NOT GIVING YOU MY CAPE!” Finch screamed.
O valorous Master who fends off the she-tiger!
Mimi’s mouth settled into a smirk. “You don’t have to be a baby about it. Keep your stupid cape. I’ll let you have the shells—if you help me drag this stuff over to the garage. There’s so much to do to be ready by next Saturday. I’ve got to make signs to hang around the neighborhood, and put price tags on everything. And I’m going to make cookies and lemonade to sell.”
Finch wished he could put a price tag on his sister and sell her. But he picked up a stack of books and followed her into the garage.
“Does Mom know you want to go to private school?”
“Yes.”
“So she’s for it?”
“Not exactly. She thinks I’m just having a hard time adjusting to seventh grade. She says I should be patient. She’s sure Kelly and I will make up.” Mimi rolled her eyes back so far, they were hidden under her bangs.
“Maybe Mom’s right.” Finch set down the stack of books.
“No way. Kelly doesn’t care about me. Holly is her new best friend now.”
“That really stinks,” Finch said in a froggy voice. If the guys decided not to be friends with him anymore, he wouldn’t want to go to school either. One day last year, Raj, Kev, and Elliott had all been absent. Finch hadn’t had anyone to sit with at lunch. He still remembered how uncomfortable he’d felt.
Mimi nodded. “Mom says if I can make half the money for private school, she and Dad will pay the rest.”
“How much is that?”
“I think about seve
n thousand dollars.”
Finch’s jaw dropped. “Mimi, you can’t make that kind of money selling junk and cleaning the house!”
“Yes, I can. I have to! Otherwise, I’ll move in with Dad and Lisa and go to school in their district.” Mimi marched back into the house for more stuff.
Finch ran after her. “Look, Dad doesn’t want us now that he’s got Jake. The blob is all he thinks about.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want you, but I could be a lot of help. I know how to change a diaper. I could babysit.”
Finch had to swallow back a lump in his throat. There were lots of times he wished he didn’t have a sister. But that was because he’d never thought it could happen. Besides, he’d never let the blob have her—he already had their dad.
Fin picked up the old ferret cage. “What if Kelly wanted to be your friend again?”
“Forget it. It’s not going to happen.”
“You never know. Something could change her mind.”
“I’m still having the sale, Fin.”
“But you’d like it, right?”
Mimi’s chin trembled. “I guess so.”
“Cape?” Finch asked silently. “Would you help me fix things up between Mimi and Kelly?”
I am a Thinking Cape, not a miracle worker, Master.
“But you’re supposed to help solve problems. You haven’t even tried.”
“Perchance later, after a nap. I am feeling tired now. Besides, a little suffering may help to sweeten up that sour she-fruit. Would you not like that?”
“No!”
“No what?” Mimi asked over her shoulder.
“Nothing,” Finch answered quickly. He’d forgotten to speak in his head. He pressed his lips tightly together to keep it from happening again. “I don’t want Mimi to suffer,” he said in his mind. “I thought you were supposed to obey me.”
But, Master, when the fruit is already spoiled, it is too late to make a jam with it.
“Pell-mell, a speechless spell!” Finch chanted silently. Then he carried the cage to the garage.
Finch waited until the lights were out in his mother’s and sister’s rooms before he sneaked into the spare room where they kept the computer. He closed the door and switched the desk lamp on low. He even remembered to turn down the sound as the computer booted up. He was hoping to find information on the Internet about Thinking Capes. If his cape had survived all this time, there might be others, too. It would be especially great if he could find one owned by another kid. Then they could e-mail about questions or problems.
At first he Googled “Thinking Capes.” But he only found a site called Planet of the Capes, and one about women’s fashions in Victorian England. He tried “Magic Capes” next, but that brought up a lot of on-line costume shops. He was beginning to feel discouraged when he remembered the cape mentioning that it was from a town near Persia or Arabia, so he typed in “Persia,” “Arabia,” and “Magic Capes.” Up came Magic Carpet Tours (but that was only a travel agency) and a lot of places that sold Oriental rugs.
Enough! He was about to shut down the computer when his eye fell on a line at the bottom of the screen: Tales from the Arabian Nights ... tales of magic and mystery. He clicked on it.
A book called Tales from the Arabian Nights appeared on the screen. The cover had a genie with muscles like the Incredible Hulk rising up from a thing that looked like a golden pitcher. Finch knew from the animated movie he’d seen that it was supposed to be Aladdin’s lamp. But this seemed quite realistic, not like the cartoon kind. The line Search inside this book appeared on the screen. Finch clicked.
The first page was an introduction. It said the tales in the book first began appearing over a thousand years ago in places like India, Persia, and Arabia. Finch felt a buzz of recognition. He looked at the table of contents. None of the titles had the words magic cape in them, but they did have other enchanted items, like keys of destiny and everlasting shoes. Maybe there would be clues about other magical capes in those stories. Tomorrow, he’d stop in the school library and see if he could find the book.
He got back to his room without waking anyone. The Thinking Cape was in a corner of his bed, exactly where he’d left it. “Hi, Cape,” he whispered.
The cape was silent.
Finch reached out and shook it. The cape still didn’t answer. Then he remembered about the spell.
“Quell, quell the speechless spell!” he chanted.
Hello, Master. How may I help you?
“Just saying good night,” Fin said with a yawn.
Master? I would sleep better if I could feel the night breeze. Would you mind opening the window before you go to sleep?
“Sure.” Finch pushed up the window. A soft breeze stirred the curtains. He lay down and fell into a deep, refreshing sleep.
16
YARD SALE TODAY
Under the shade of a red maple tree, Finch was manning his sister’s lemonade and cookie stand. His backpack hung from a branch overhead, top open so the Thinking Cape could get the fresh air it craved. It swung lightly in the breeze, although occasionally an early fall gust sent it twisting wildly. Rosie and Cubby were getting some fresh air as well. Fin had covered a few sharp wires on their old cage with tape and set it in the grass nearby. The ferrets climbed up and down, poking their little noses through the bars.
They were so excited to be out-of-doors, they were squeaking.
Fin filled six paper cups with lemonade and set them out on the table. He rearranged the chocolate chip cookies more neatly on the tray. Then he helped himself to one and plopped down in a lawn chair.
All over the front yard, strangers were picking through his family’s unwanted stuff. His mother had decided a yard sale was a good opportunity to clean out the house.
While he waited for lemonade customers, he opened the copy of Tales from the Arabian Nights he’d found at the school library. Last night he’d read one of the stories to the Thinking Cape—“Sinbad the Sailor and the Valley of Diamonds.” It was awesome! Dangling from the claw of an enormous bird, Sinbad had flown into a valley that sparkled with emeralds, diamonds, and rubies. But when the bird landed, Sinbad discovered the floor of the valley was also covered with snakes so big they could swallow a man as easily as you could swallow your chewing gum. Before Sinbad realized what was happening, the humongous bird sucked up one of the snakes like a worm and flew off. Now Sinbad was trapped—the sides of the valley were as straight as walls and as slick as glass. No human had ever climbed out.
But Sinbad the Sailor never gave up. He stuck some of the jewels in his pockets for later and hid under the old, smelly carcass of a donkey that must have fallen off the cliff. After a long wait, the giant bird came along again. This time it plucked up the rotten carcass (with Sinbad hanging on beneath) and flew back to its nest to feed the meat to its chicks. While the birds were busy, Sinbad escaped before he became bird food, too.
“Pee-yew, Sinbad must have really smelled when he got out of there,” Finch had commented when he’d finished reading. “But he sure was smart. I think he should have been called Sinbad the Thinking Sailor.”
The cape had huffed in disagreement.
That sailor was not so clever. I, too, visited that valley with my old master, the merchant.
“What!” Finch exclaimed before he could stop himself. He looked around. Fortunately, no one had heard him. He pressed his palm over his mouth and continued inside his head, “You went down into that valley? With all those snakes?”
Nay, Master, there was no need. I knew that serpents enjoyed eating warty toads much more than munching men. So I had the merchant bring two sacks. One was filled with fat, croaking creatures. The other was empty. Off we rode to the edge of the cliff above the valley. When my master looked down and saw the writhing, hissing snakes, he nearly fainted. But I advised him to toss a few of the toads over the edge. As he did so, the serpents’ appetites were greatly aroused. “Moooore!” they hissed.
“Now it is time to ba
rgain,” I told my master. “Toss the empty sack down into the valley and have the serpents fill it with jewels. Tell them if they bring it up here, you will give them a sack full of toads.”
My master was afraid the sinister serpents would eat the toads and the two of us as well. But I told him not to worry, for I had a plan. As soon as the awful creatures brought up the sack of jewels, I had the merchant toss the bag of toads over the edge of the cliff. Quickly, the serpents slithered back down to catch them. That is how, without risking his life, my master came away richer than a king.
Finch thought for a moment. “But the stories in this book are made up. They aren’t true.”
Most stories begin with real experience, Master. I hope you do not think I am a teller of untruths?
“No, of course not,” Finch answered quickly. “You were really smart—and brave.”
Thank you, Master.
“You’re welcome.” Fin chewed his last bite of cookie thoughtfully. “If the sides of the valley were like glass walls, how did the snakes climb them?”
They had suction cups on their undersides, Master, like the arms of an octopus.
“Then why did they stay in the valley? Why didn’t they crawl up and find their own toads?”
Really, Master Finch, it is quite simple. They were too lazy.
“Oh,” Finch said, although it didn’t seem so simple to him. But it hadn’t sounded as if the Thinking Cape wanted to answer any more questions.
A sudden burst of wind sent his stack of paper napkins flying. He ran around the table to retrieve them.
“Hi, Finny.”
Finch looked up into the face of his sister’s ex-best friend, Kelly Clark. She was with a girl he didn’t recognize—and two guys he did.
“This is Holly,” Kelly said. Her cheeks had more freckles than he remembered. It felt like a long time since he’d seen her, although really, it had only been a few weeks.
Finch slid his eyes over to the other girl. She had short black hair, big blue eyes, and a mouth that hung open as if she were bored. This girl was the reason his sister and Kelly weren’t best friends anymore. He narrowed his eyes at her.
The Society of Super Secret Heroes Page 7
