“But we had already taken care of him,” Dad said. The Big Bouncer just gave a resigned shrug. I didn’t pay much attention, though. I was too amazed at actually seeing AI in person! Then something else caught my attention. Near the checkout lane at register eleven: The Amazing Indestructo Collector Card Series Number One. “Collect all sixty-four!” a burst proclaimed on the box. My hands shook as I lifted one of the packs. Each pack cost a dollar, so I could buy five, which I quickly did.
Putting the packs in one of my pockets, I went back to Dad, who was glumly checking through the items in our cart, just to make sure we hadn’t forgotten something in the confusion.
“We still have a problem,” he said. “We’ve picked out four items for ourselves, but your mother will only allow two.”
It was then, as the store cleanup crew arrived to start picking up onions, patching the hole in the ceiling, and fixing the disaster in the paper products aisle, that I had a brilliant idea.
“She said we were only allowed to pick out two items, right?” I asked.
“That’s right,” my dad said warily.
“Well, so the Doughnut Hole Heroes and the SugarJolt Chocolate Energy Pills are my two, and the Maximizer Power Cakes and Turkey Jerky Rinds are your two. If she had meant two items total, she should have said we were allowed one item each. I would think that when she said two items, she meant that we each were allowed two items.”
“OB, you’re a genius.” My dad’s mood lifted slightly as he mussed up my hair. It was nice, but I had to push his hand away before he accidentally set my hair on fire like that time when I was six.
As we were having everything rung up, the other members of the League of Ultimate Goodness finally arrived. I spotted Major Bummer, Whistlin’ Dixie, and the Crimson Creampuff immediately. Most of them were out of breath, and they all looked a little confused.
“Don’t bother, guys,” Mr. Mister informed them. “AI handled everything.”
That comment was enough to send my dad back into a funk. But I was focused on my new cards. I didn’t even realize until later that Mr. Mister’s cleanup crew had swept up the fragments of whatever the Multiplier had dropped.
As we headed out of the store, I heard a thump coming from the pavement. Thump, thump. And then, farther away: thump, thump. After about the tenth thump, I saw the Moleman’s head burst through a small grassy island in the parking lot.
“You’re too late,” my father said in disgust, not even glancing down at the muddled-looking member of the League of Ultimate Goodness. “The Amazing Indestructo has already saved the day.”
I should have been more supportive of my dad in his gloomy mood. After all, I knew he and the Big
Bouncer had taken down the Multiplier and gotten none of the credit. But I was distracted. I had five packets of cards in my back pocket, and I couldn’t wait to get home and open them.
CHAPTER FOUR
Counting Cards
Mom was incredibly irritated about the two additional items that somehow ended up as four. So I left the house immediately after breakfast on Sunday and headed straight for the headquarters of my team, the Junior Leaguers, for our regularly scheduled weekly emergency meeting.
Okay, “headquarters” might be a bit of an exaggeration. Our regular meeting place is a tree house in Stench’s backyard. But it’s a really cool tree house. Stench’s dad, Windbag, owns a junkyard. In fact, Stench’s entire yard is really just one enormous pile of junk. As a result, his dad was able to put together all sorts of weird things to make a tree house with practically everything a kid could want. It has electricity, heating and air-conditioning, a game room, a pantry that’s always stocked with potato chips, and a refrigerator full of things to drink.
Stench says his dad built the place for him because of what a good kid he is. I think the real reason was to keep him outside instead of stinking up the house. Don’t get me wrong. Stench is a great guy and one of the strongest heroes I know, even though he’s still just a kid. But, man, can he clear a room.
I would never hold it against him, though. Not after the amazing friend he’s been to me. We met in kindergarten. On the very first day, I was getting picked on because of my lack of a superpower by Cannonball. Like I mentioned earlier, Cannonball is the son of the Big Bouncer and he’s a real jerk.
On day one, Cannonball was threatening to roll right over me, when up steps this kid who was big enough to be a third grader. He was wearing an open orange vest with lots of pockets and matching orange pants. The pants had rows of canisters attached up and down the sides by small straps.
“It’s not nice to pick on others,” he said, stepping right up to Cannonball.
“Why don’t you go play with the rest of the ten-year-olds?” Cannonball mocked him, not letting go of me.
“I’m in kindergarten just like you,” the new kid said as he reached for Cannonball’s arm—the one holding me by the collar. “Now why don’t you let go of my friend here.”
I had never seen him before, but at that moment I was more than happy to have him as a friend. He barely squeezed Cannonball’s wrist and the round little creep started hollering. He backed off for a moment, and then his face turned red as he got really angry.
“Okay, so you’ve been held back a few years,” snorted Cannonball, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t still flatten you.”
“Just because I’m big doesn’t mean I was held back,” my new friend informed Cannonball, even as the bully came barreling toward him. “But it does mean I can pound the potato chips out of you if I have to.”
And, sure enough, he grabbed Cannonball and hoisted him straight into the air. No one was more surprised than Cannonball himself, who immediately began to yell in panic.
“So what do you think we should do with him?” The stranger turned to me, a mischievous grin on his face.
I looked around the playground and saw something that gave me a great idea.
“I think he might enjoy the seesaw,” I said, returning his grin.
NAME: Stench. POWER: Incredible superstrength. LIMITATIONS: Sadly, a regrettable side effect of this power has led to this young hero’s unfortunate name. CAREER: The strongest kid by far at Watson Elementary and a member of the Junior Leaguers. CLASSIFICATION: A remarkable power as long as you’re standing upwind.
“Great idea.” He laughed. “Let’s give him a ride.”
I followed him as he carried the screaming Cannonball over to the seesaw. With no effort at all, he tossed Cannonball onto the far side and then jumped onto the nearer side. We both watched with satisfaction as Cannonball went flying off across the playground, his wail fading along with him.
“Kids always make fun of me because of my size,” he said as he stuck out his hand to me, “but usually only once. My name is Stench, by the way.”
The second he said it I found out how he got his name. I shook his hand anyway.
“My name is Ordinary Boy,” I replied, my eyes watering from the smell. “That’s because I don’t have any kind of power.”
“My power is my strength,” Stench said. He pulled one of the canisters from a loop on his pants leg and began spraying it to neutralize the odor. “The problem is that my strength sometimes shows itself in unpleasant ways. I’ll make you a deal. I won’t make fun of you if you won’t make fun of me.”
“It’s a deal,” I replied. And we’ve been best friends ever since.
Climbing up the ladder, I could tell by the faint but lingering smell that Stench was already there.
As I entered the clubhouse through the hole in the center of the floor, I didn’t see anyone at first. Then I noticed a bushy clump of blond hair poking over the back of the couch. I peeked over and saw Halogen Boy. He was munching from a bowl of potato chips sitting in his lap and appeared hypnotized by what he was watching on the television. I slowly began waving my hand like a pendulum directly in front of his face. His eyes, hidden behind the dark goggles he always wore, finally appeared to focus on my waving
hand.
“Hey, O Boy. You’re just in time,” he said, momentarily glowing as brightly as the TV screen in front of him. “AI is just coming on.”
“Excellent,” I responded, and I plopped down on the end of the couch right next to our Hall of Trophies. Well, to be honest, it really wasn’t a hall. In fact it was just an empty aquarium turned upside down. So far, it contained only a doorknob, a sardine can, and a cocktail umbrella, but we had high hopes for its future.
Just then I heard the refrigerator door close. I glanced over to the kitchen area and saw Stench.
“Hi, O Boy,” he said as he handed Halogen Boy a bottle of apple juice. “Can I get you one, too?”
Hal (that’s what we all call him) poured the juice from the bottle into the sippy cup that he always carried. It was attached to his belt loop by an elastic strap. We kid him all the time about still having a sippy cup, but it actually makes a lot of sense. His ability to glow gets a lot stronger the more apple juice he drinks. Don’t ask me why. Orange juice, lemonade, soda pop—nothing else had any effect, but apple juice could get him glowing like a firefly. The sippy cup was just an easy way to always keep some handy.
“Sure. I’ll take one, too,” I replied. It took me a moment to realize that Stench was sporting a big bushy mustache the same brownish color as the hair on his head. “Um, and what’s with the mustache?”
“Guess who.” He snorted with disgust.
Stench’s older brother, Fuzz Boy, has the ability to grow hair on anything he touches. When he was a baby his parents thought that he would become a zillionaire by growing hair for bald people. The problem is that the hair only lasts for about six hours. So, stuck with a fairly useless power, he spends most of his time using it to play pranks—mostly on his younger brother.
“He did it this morning before breakfast,” Stench grumbled. “So it should be gone in a couple of hours.”
“What should be gone?”
The three of us all turned to see Plasma Girl coming up through the floor of the tree house. Well, actually, “oozing up” would be more correct. Plasma Girl can change herself into a gelatin-like glob and this allows her to get into all sorts of places in ways that most people can’t. She never climbs up the ladder to the tree house. Instead, she turns into her goopy state and slithers along a ventilation shaft or up the trunk. It only takes her a few seconds to switch back into her normal body. She doesn’t have a costume in the conventional sense, since she would lose it every time she used her power, but her skin produces a constantly shifting plasma covering from neck to toes. Its colors tend to be blue, purple, and pink and it’s really cool and iridescent.
“We were talking about Stench’s mustache,” Halogen Boy and I both said helpfully.
“I think it looks good on you, Stench,” Plasma Girl said, giving it a playful tug. “You should consider growing it back in about ten years.”
“No way,” he responded. “Want an apple juice?”
“Thanks,” Plasma Girl said. “Where’s Tadpole? It’s not like him to be the last one here.”
Just then, as if on cue, Tadpole poked his head through the opening in the floor.
“Here I am, guys,” he said as he climbed up, “and I have a very good reason for being late. I’ve just spent the morning with the coolest thing ever invented so far in the history of the universe.”
“What is it?” we all asked.
“The Amazing Indestructo Collector Cards,” he revealed proudly. He pulled a small stack of cards from a compartment on the olive-green utility belt he wore on top of his camouflage leotards. “They’ve just been released!”
“I know,” I said. “I bought five packs yesterday and I brought them with me.”
“Me, too,” Stench added. “I have five packs, too.”
Tadpole looked disappointed. He likes to think he’s the first to find anything out. But then Hal distracted him.
“Those look really neat,” Hal said softly. The apple juice he had just drunk produced a bright glow and we all had to close our eyes. “Oops. Sorry about that.”
“There’s sixty-four of them all together,” Tadpole said, like we didn’t already know. “I was thinking we should try and complete the set as a team.”
“This isn’t going to be your new excuse to get out of my afternoon tea party, is it?” asked Plasma Girl suspiciously. “You’ve wiggled out of it three times now, and this time you promised.”
As you can probably tell, Plasma Girl doesn’t hang out with us because she’s a tomboy or anything. Just the opposite, actually. We all met her for the first time in second grade, and, believe me, nothing impresses a second-grade boy like a girl who can turn herself into a bubbling mass of ectoplasm and slither across a playground. The first time she did it, we practically begged her to join our group. It was only later that we realized she was into the usual lame stuff that most girls like.
I’ll admit, we had doubts at first. But then we decided, why not? We’re modern, freethinking guys, after all. And, besides, we all realized that even when she wasn’t an oozing, bubbling puddle of goop, she was still pretty cool. She’d have to be for us to agree to be guests at her tea parties. And although you’ll never hear me admit this in front of the guys, she’s kept us from doing a lot of stupid things over the years.
“Tea parties are so lame,” Tadpole muttered in his usual undiplomatic way.
“And you’re coming to one this afternoon.” She glared at Tadpole but spoke to all of us. “Aren’t you?”
“We promise,” we all said robotically.
We eagerly began spreading out the cards on the table in front of the couch.
“Hey, Tadpole, you want an apple juice?” Stench asked. “Everybody else already has one.”
“Thanks, Stench, but I can get it,” Tadpole responded. Without even lifting his head from the cards, his tongue whipped from his mouth, snaked into the kitchen, looped itself around the refrigerator door handle, and yanked it open. Tadpole wrapped his tongue around a bottle of apple juice, used it to nudge the door shut, and reeled it all the way back—all without looking. As his tongue released the bottle and it dropped into his hand, the last of the cards were laid out on the table.
“This is incredible,” he said excitedly. “Two cards per pack, so we have ten from O Boy, ten from Stench, and sixteen from me.”
The first thing we noticed as we oohed and aahed over the cards was how many of them were pictures of the Amazing Indestructo. They weren’t all duplicates, either. There were just lots of different images of AI. We counted twenty-two in all. After looking them over carefully, we realized that eight of them were duplicates, leaving us with fourteen unique AI cards. The remaining fourteen cards were split evenly between members of the League of Ultimate Goodness and some of AI’s greatest enemies.
We had seven members of LUG: Major Bummer, the Bee Lady, Mannequin, the Human Compass, and Lord Pincushion, plus two more duplicates of Major Bummer. The seven villain cards were those for the Prophetess, Reverso, the Iconoclast, two copies of Cyclotron’s card, and two cards for a mysterious villain named the Sneak. We’d heard of him before but had never seen a picture. The card did little to clear up the mystery. All that was visible was a pale outline of a person who had blended in with the pattern of the wall behind him. You could only sort of see his eyes.
NAME: Plasma Girl. POWER: Able to transform herself into a gelatinous goo. LIMITATIONS: Gelatinous goo has few practical uses. CAREER: First and only female member of the Junior Leaguers. CLASSIFICATION: A moderate power put to exceptional use.
What really mattered, though, was that all together we had twenty-four unique cards.
“If there are sixty-four total, that means we still need …” Halogen Boy’s goggles tipped downward to where his fingers were attempting to count out the answer.
“We still need a whole bunch of cards,” Tadpole said with annoyance.
The rest of us were annoyed, too, but not at the thought of finding the remaining cards.
We were annoyed because the clubhouse suddenly started to stink.
“Oh my goodness!” Plasma Girl cried, frantically waving both hands in front of her face.
“Can’t you do that somewhere else?” Tadpole asked.
“Sorry.” Stench blushed. “It comes on pretty suddenly.”
“Let’s get out of here, anyway,” I suggested. “I think it’s time to head over to the Mighty Mart. After all, we have a collection to complete!”
CHAPTER FIVE
A Bright Idea
When we got to the store, the first things I noticed were the displays of toilet paper that were everywhere. They all had signs offering huge discounts. Buy one, get five free—that sort of thing. The ceiling that AI had crashed through had already been completely repaired and the shelves had been raised back up.
We went straight to the checkout lanes with the card packs. In lane one there was a box that still had about a dozen packs in it.
“How many of these can we afford to buy?” asked Tadpole. “I only have three dollars left after what I bought earlier today.”
I did a little calculating in my head.
“Well, we need forty more cards,” I said for starters. “So far, of the first thirty-six cards we bought, twelve of them, or one third, were duplicates, and twenty-four, or two-thirds, were unique. If that ratio stays the same, we’d have to buy … hmm, let me think.”
Actually, I knew the answer right away, but I didn’t want the group to think I was a math geek or something, so I pretended like it took me a while to get the answer.
“We’d have to buy at least sixty cards in order to have even a small chance of getting the forty individual cards that we need,” I finally announced. “In reality, as we get closer to completing the set, our rate of success will drop even further and it will take even more to find the last few we need. Sixty should be our target for now, though.”
The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Boy, Book One: The Hero Revealed Page 3
