by Lee Bacon
“And now, to finish you off …” Captain Justice raised the section of the wall above his head, taking aim.
“WAIT!”
It took me a second to realize that I’d been the one to call out. Everyone on the bus turned to look at me. I hoped that my face didn’t look as red as it felt.
“Yes, child?” Captain Justice was grinning at me, waiting for me to say something.
My mind spun. I’d only yelled to distract him from killing my parents—I hadn’t really put much thought into what I should say after that.
I caught a glimpse of my dad lying on the ground. Recognition flashed across his features. He looked as if he couldn’t figure out whether to wave hello or scream for mercy. Everyone was watching me—Captain Justice, my parents, dozens of reporters. I shielded my eyes from the glare of flashing cameras, then cleared my throat.
“Um … would it—” My voice sputtered and I tried again. “Would it be possible to take a picture of you?”
“Oh, okay.” Captain Justice grinned. “Maybe just one photo.”
Floating in place, the superhero fixed his hair with one hand and balanced the brick wall above his head with the other.
The distraction was enough for Dad to get out his plasma gun. With a blast of red light, the brick wall exploded into a million pieces.
Captain Justice covered his eyes as dust from the destroyed wall rained down on him. Smoke from the explosion hung in the air. Dad aimed the plasma gun at Captain Justice’s chest.
“No!” I screamed.
I could see the hesitation on Dad’s face. His greatest enemy was floating in front of him, blinded. All he had to do was pull the trigger. He glanced from Captain Justice to me. With a sigh, he grabbed his hover scooter and flew to where Mom was lying. After helping her onto his scooter, Dad turned to give Captain Justice one last dirty look. Then my parents rose high into the air together. A moment later, they were gone.
When Captain Justice could see again, he flew toward us, brushing dust and brick fragments out of his hair.
“Another shameful plot has been foiled by Captain Justice!” he said, among wild whoops and cheers from the crowd of students and journalists. “But we must all remain diligent. For we never know when evil will strike again. One thing is certain, though. If you want to grow up to be super like me, you’ll remember to eat Frosted Fuel Flakes every morning for breakfast. Eight essential vitamins and all the nutrients you need to get your day started right!”
And then he launched into the air, vanishing into the blue, cloudless sky.
3
Having superpowered parents
can make life complicated at times.
The mood around the dining room table was tense. Mom was still wearing her body armor, but she’d slung her mask over the back of the chair and replaced her knee-high black boots with white slippers. Dad pushed his goggles onto his forehead and stared at his plate of salmon and asparagus as if it had just insulted him.
“What is it with that doofus always flying in and foiling our schemes?” he said. “I can’t even destroy one stupid little continent without him getting in the way!”
“And what’s the deal with all those hologram weapons?” Mom said. “The Net of Truth! The Shield of Glory!”
“Honor,” I said. “It was actually called the Shield of—”
Mom glared over at me. I decided it might not be the best time to dwell on specifics.
“Never mind,” I said.
The TV was playing in the living room, a jumble of noise in the background. Dad stabbed a bunch of asparagus with his fork like he was spearing a whale with a harpoon.
When the local news started, both of them turned to face the television. A reporter was standing on a street that looked familiar, pointing toward a pile of rubble that also looked familiar. Nearby was half a school bus that definitely looked familiar. It was the scene of the fight between my parents and Captain Justice.
“Today’s top story,” said the reporter. “Shock in Sheepsdale, as two supervillains tried to destroy the world by altering the weather.”
I cleared my throat. “You know what would be nice? Family dinner without TV.”
If my parents were in a bad mood now, the news was only going to make it worse. But it was too late. They were already shifting in their seats to get a better view of the television.
The reporter continued. “I’m standing outside what’s left of Mr. Chow’s Chinese Buffet in downtown Sheepsdale. But the only thing on the menu today was chaos, as the Dread Duo frightened a busful of children. According to eyewitness accounts, the Botanist ripped a school bus in half while it was still full of students from Sheepsdale Middle School.”
“I didn’t do that!” Mom yelled at the screen. “Captain Justice tore that bus apart! I mean, I appreciate the credit, but—”
“Afterward,” the reporter went on, “she threw the top half of the school bus at a nearby post office.”
Mom shook her head with frustration.
“Fortunately, Captain Justice came to the rescue,” the reporter said. “While fighting against the two dastardly supervillains, the beloved Captain Justice single-handedly saved the school children and put a halt to a plot to destroy the world. If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that Captain Justice is a true superhero.
“After a short break, we’ll take it to Troy, who’s going to tell us more about that wacky weather today!”
Since it didn’t look like the world was going to be destroyed after all, I still had some homework to finish after dinner.
Most people imagine that supervillains live in hollowed-out volcanoes or secret arctic lairs. But our house looked just like everyone else’s. When your family has a secret identity, it’s not a good idea to draw attention to yourself by installing death satellites or converting the garage into a dungeon.
But if you’d looked closer, you might have noticed the little details that made our house different from the others. Like the extra-tall fence in the backyard that blocked any view of what my parents were working on back there. Or the network of invisible sensor beams that formed a security perimeter around all the doors and windows. Or the curtains on our basement windows that hid the zombies my mom kept locked down there.
I walked past the closed door to my parents’ lab, where they plotted out most of their evil plans. I paused to glance at my reflection in the hall mirror. Mom and Dad kept assuring me that I would be hitting a growth spurt any day now, but so far all I’d hit was a growth sputter. I still could barely see myself in the bottom of the mirror. Disheveled brown hair, a constellation of pale freckles scattered across my nose.
For the next couple of hours, I stuck to my bedroom. I’d had enough experience with these types of situations to know that it was best to just avoid my parents until they’d recovered from their foul mood. By the next day, they’d be over their disappointment again.
When I headed back downstairs for a glass of water, it was so quiet that I thought they’d gone to bed. But I heard whispers coming from the living room.
“Don’t you think it’s time we tell him?” Dad asked.
“Not yet,” Mom replied. “Let’s just wait a little longer. He’s still young.”
“He deserves to know.”
Mom sighed. “You’re right, Dominick. I’m just worried about him, that’s all.”
I peered around the doorway. My parents were seated on the couch. The television was muted. The light from the screen flickered over my dad’s features as he leaned forward and rubbed his temples.
“Joshua is going to find out soon, you know,” he said. “Whether we tell him or not, he’ll discover the truth.”
“Soon,” Mom said. “We’ll tell him soon. But not yet. Give him just a little more time.”
What were they talking about? What did I deserve to know? Before I could get any answers, Captain Justice appeared on TV in a commercial for Pegasus shoes. Quick shots of him running, lifting weights, practicing with ho
lographic nunchucks—all while wearing Pegasus shoes.
Dad grabbed his plasma gun and pulled the trigger. The TV disintegrated.
When household accessories started getting vaporized, that usually meant it wasn’t the best time for a chat. I turned and tiptoed back upstairs.
The next morning, I climbed out of bed and headed into the bathroom. On the wall beside the sink was a silver box with the words “No Handz WonderBrush” printed in the center. This was one of Dad’s inventions. See, when my dad wasn’t busy inventing devious technologies to terrorize the planet, he spent his time inventing devious technologies that terrorized the rest of the family.
His inventions weren’t supposed to be dangerous. It was just that Dad was an impatient guy. Mom accused him of having SADD (Supervillain Attention Deficit Disorder). He’d start on one project, then get another idea and get all carried away with something else, until a new plan gripped his imagination, and another, and … you get the idea.
Because of Dad’s SADD, our house was stuffed with inventions that he was too distracted to ever quite finish. Some of his ideas were pretty cool. But a lot of them were also kind of life-threatening.
Like the No Handz WonderBrush.
“This little device makes brushing your teeth easier than ever before!” Dad had explained to me while installing the prototype in my bathroom the previous year. I’d considered mentioning that brushing my teeth wasn’t actually all that hard to begin with, but he’d been caught up in his explanation. He’d pressed a button, and a mechanical arm had swung out of the wall with a toothbrush attached to the end. “See?” he’d said. “Easy. Now just relax while the No Handz brushes your teeth for you!”
That was the idea, anyway. The one time I tried it, the No Handz ended up brushing my eyeballs. Since then, I’ve stuck with my normal toothbrush.
And it’s not like Mom made my life any easier. She was constantly testing out her experiments around the house. That morning was no exception. When I got downstairs for breakfast, she was placing a small potted tree on the floor next to the dining room table.
“What does this look like?” she asked, pointing at the tree.
It had to be a trick question. “Um … a tree?” I said.
“It’s actually a genetically engineered mutant ficus,” she said.
See what I mean? Trick question.
“I’ve been working in the lab on this for months. And I think it’s finally ready.” Mom turned and faced the tree. “Well, are you ready?”
She was speaking to the tree. And that wasn’t even the weirdest part. Because a second later, the tree flapped forward and back several times. Like a nod.
“Did you make it do that?” I asked.
“Nope,” Mom said. “Micus did that all on his own.”
“Micus?”
“Mutant Ficus. He’s been genetically engineered to understand human language by measuring the vibration in our voices. And he’s also capable of responding to simple questions and expressing himself.”
The tree seemed to be looking up at Mom now. Its branches flapped up and down like arms.
“So, uh—what does it want now?” I asked.
Mom examined the tree. “At the moment, he appears to be hungry?”
Micus nodded more enthusiastically than the previous time.
“Would you like to feed him?” Mom asked.
The tree turned in my direction. Strange that you could feel like you were being watched by something without eyes.
“Go ahead,” Mom said. “Micus won’t bite. Will you, Micus?”
The tree shook its bushy head back and forth.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Actually, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
All morning, questions had been swimming through my head. What had my parents been whispering about the night before? What were they keeping from me?
But this obviously wasn’t the time to ask. Mom was distracted by Micus, who’d begun flailing his branches around like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum.
“Oh, now he’s upset. Here, give him some of this.” Mom pushed a plastic jug into my hands. Water sloshed around inside. “A little water ought to make him feel better.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Absolutely. Once he has something to drink, he’ll perk right up.”
“Okay.” Leaning forward, I tilted the jug. All of a sudden, Micus wrapped a branch around my wrist. I tried to pull back, but Micus was surprisingly strong for a houseplant.
“No, Micus!” Mom yelled. “Let go of Joshua at once!”
Instead, the tree pulled my wrist down. Water gushed out of the jug, landing in the pot and spilling over the edges.
“Okay, I’ll give you what you want!” I screamed. “Just don’t hurt me!”
I couldn’t believe it had come to this—bargaining for my life with a potted tree. Micus yanked harder, and the rest of the water came splashing out of the jug. Finally Mom raised her hand, palm out. She stared hard at the tree, a concentrated expression that always showed up on her face when she used her power. I felt the plant’s grip loosening. As soon as I was free, I leaped around to the other end of the dining room table to catch my breath.
Maybe I wasn’t in the mood for breakfast after all.
When I got to school, everyone was talking about the fight between Captain Justice and my parents. A You-Tube video of my dad getting caught in the Net of Truth had gone viral overnight. Things only got worse on my way to third period. I was rounding a corner near the main stairway when a harsh voice called out to me.
“Hey, Dorkface! Where ya going?”
My stomach did a somersault. The voice belonged to Joey Birch. As for “Dorkface”—well, I guess that was another of the names I went by.
Joey was wiry and tall, with red hair and pale, sharp features. He roamed the hallways of Sheepsdale Middle School threatening, stealing, bribing, cheating—followed everywhere by Brick Gristol.
Nobody knew how Brick had gotten his nickname. Maybe it had something to do with his level of intelligence. Or maybe it was because his head was as flat and hard as a brick. There were rumors that he’d been held back three times. This would have explained why he was the only kid in the sixth grade who had a five o’clock shadow and a learner’s permit.
Brick grinned down at me, showing off a mouthful of crooked teeth. He was wearing a T-shirt that read:
This Shirt Is Made from
100%
Recycled Puppies
“Listen up, Dorkface,” Joey said, taking a step in my direction. “We’re trying to settle a little bet. Brick says that we could stuff you into a locker and shut the door. But I say we’d have to break your legs before you’d fit. Whaddaya think?”
Neither option sounded all that good to me, but I had a feeling that they weren’t really asking for my advice. Besides, every time I tried to speak, the enormous knot in my throat got in the way, and I ended up making a sound that was something between a squeak and a gurgle.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Joey said. “Just break one of your legs and stuff you inside. If you don’t fit, we’ll break the other one.”
Brick grabbed my arm with one hairy-knuckled hand. With his other hand, he reached out and yanked the knob of a nearby locker. The door swung open with a clang.
I could tell there was no way I was going to fit inside the locker. Not even close. I’d admit that I was kind of small for my age, but I was not nearly as bendable as I looked. I tried to mention this to Joey and Brick, but when I opened my mouth, I sounded like a suffocating hamster.
I glanced down at Brick’s hand. It looked about the size of a catcher’s mitt against my scrawny arm.
Brick pulled me closer to the locker.
“I hope you’re flexible,” Joey said. “ ’Cause it’s gonna be a tight squeeze.”
I can’t really explain what happened next because I didn’t understand it myself. But a weird feeling came over me. It started as a t
ingling in my fingertips and spread down my arms and across my pounding chest. Then a surge of energy pulsed through me, a rush of intense power bursting through my veins.
All of a sudden, Brick flew backward like he’d just been hit by an invisible eighteen-wheeler. A crash echoed through the hallway as he slammed into a row of lockers.
Joey looked from Brick to me, his eyes wide with shock. “How did you …,” he muttered. “That’s not possible.…”
For once, Joey and I were in complete agreement. My brain buzzed with confusion. Somehow I’d just knocked the biggest kid in school into a locker without even raising a finger.
4
It’s perfectly normal
to feel strange and different.
Over the previous few months, there’d been other instances like this. Weird, unexplained events happening around me. Like when I’d been in the middle of a math test and my pencil had exploded in my hand. Or the time, a couple of weeks after that, when I’d been on the floor playing a video game and I’d felt something burning. Dropping the controller, I’d scrambled to my feet. That was when I noticed the burn mark in the carpet right where I’d been sitting. And it had been shaped exactly like my butt.
Our health teacher had told us that our bodies would be “experiencing many strange and wonderful changes.”
Joshua’s best friend and neighbor, Milton, is a huge fan of Captain Justice … and curly fries. Just watch out when he gets too close to a hover scooter.
For some reason, I didn’t think this was what she’d had in mind.
I spent the next couple of periods in a daze. Something weird was going on, and I needed to figure out what it was.
During lunch, I sat down at an empty table and tried to re-create the surge of power I’d felt earlier. I shut out all the noises around me and strained my concentration. At first nothing happened. But then I felt it. A slight tingle in my fingertips. My heart pounded as a buzz of energy spread down my arms, and then—
“Are you okay? You look like you just swallowed a bug.”
