Kid Normal

by Greg James

  Mary rushed up behind the drone. There was a loud crack and a whirring sound like a crashing helicopter as she shoved her umbrella into the reserve blade. The drone spun frantically around, lurching drunkenly across the kitchen. In desperation it activated its flamethrower and spewed fire in a wide circle, like an extremely expensive and dangerous firework. With a metallic clang, it careered through the smashed door of the oven, which immediately filled with flames. After a moment there was a huge explosion. The drone, consumed by its own firepower, was reduced to spare parts. There would be no way back this time. It was done for.

  “Murph?” yelled Mary. “Are you there?” Murph could just make her out through the smoke, and beyond that he could see Hilda, Nellie, and Billy watching nervously from the doorway.

  “Over here!” shouted Murph, crawling underneath the thick smoke that was now filling the kitchen. “I’m over here, and I appear to be fine! What the salad is going on? What WAS that?”

  Choking, the five of them staggered out through the back door and stood in the garden. Murph looked around, still baffled by what had just happened and what his pals were doing there. Mary tried to put into words the current state of affairs and couldn’t. So they just continued to stand there and take stock. Billy eventually interrupted the silence.

  “So. Here’s the deal,” he told Murph. “The School’s been taken over by an evil wasp man and everyone’s been imprisoned or brainwashed. Teachers too. Everyone except us.”

  “What? What do you mean, a ‘wasp man’?” replied Murph.

  “We don’t really know,” said Hilda. “He’s just weird and waspy and his weapons are all wasps and it’s all nuts, but he means business and he’s got a lot of helpers. One of which you just managed to finish off in the kitchen.”

  “With the help of my umbrella,” chipped in Mary, as she checked it for damage.

  Murph took a final look back at his house. It was a complete wreck. Flames were licking out of the first-floor windows, and at that moment there was another explosion from the kitchen. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to his mom, but there was no time to worry about that right now.

  Murph Cooper had been through a lot. But he’d had enough of feeling miserable; he was fed up with being fed up. He thought about what Mary had said to him only that morning—about not letting things get to you. Then he remembered something Flora had told him during one of their morning chess sessions: no one except a hedgehog ever got anywhere by rolling into a ball.

  Murph wasn’t a hedgehog, and it was time to take control of the situation. Even though Mr. Flash had done his best to beat any joy out of him, even though he was fated to leave in a few weeks, he liked The School. And even though he’d been a total jerk to his friends earlier that day, they had rushed to save him. For the first time in years, he felt part of something.

  “We need to save The School,” Murph stated simply.

  “But, Murph, I don’t know how we can do that,” said Mary anxiously. “We’re not super enough. We need a Hero, and we haven’t got one. Who can help us now?”

  And suddenly Murph understood. It was Mary’s question that had been the key: Who could help them now?

  Only one person. Someone who had not been seen for a very, very long time.

  “Where are we going, Murph?” shouted Billy as they sprinted through the town center.

  “Hurry up,” Murph panted. “Back to The School before it’s too late!”

  Minutes later they tore through the gates and across the front yard. Murph led them around the back and across the playing fields. The empty assault course lay to one side, but over by the woods a stream of smoke could be seen coming out of the chimney on top of a ramshackle collection of wooden sheds. They could hear a metallic hammering coming from inside.

  “He’s stayed close by but didn’t want anyone to know,” puffed Murph as they ran. “He’s got the equipment; he knows too much to be just a janitor. I only just worked it out for sure. Carl is the answer!”

  “What?” said Mary as they stopped outside the huts, gasping for breath. “How can Carl help? How can Carl save us?”

  “He’s not just Carl,” said Murph triumphantly. “He’s the Blue Phantom.”

  The others looked at him in amazement. Then they did a collective “Ohhhhhhh!”

  Murph nodded, turned, and knocked on the door of the shed. The clanging noise stopped abruptly.

  Carl opened the door slowly: “Oh, it’s you guys! Thank goodness you’re safe. And what the heck are you doing back here? It’s far too dangerous for little mice like you to be running around.”

  “We’ve come to save The School, and you’re the only one who can help,” Murph said earnestly.

  “Me?” laughed Carl. “What am I going to do? Grab my broom and brush the bad guys away?”

  “No, Carl. We know who you are. The game’s up,” said Mary confidently.

  “We know your secret,” chirped Hilda.

  “Oh, do you?” said Carl.

  “Yes. Yes, we do,” piped up Billy, partially inflating his left thigh with nervous excitement.

  Even Nellie got carried away in the moment and skitted around silently like a dog who knows it’s about to go for a walkie.

  Carl waited, holding the door half closed, eyebrows raised.

  “You are the Blue Phantom,” said Murph simply.

  There was a pause, and then Carl let out a wheeze that turned out to be laughter.

  “Brilliant. Well, I’ve heard it all now. Sorry, kids, not me!” he said. “Now, you’d better get yourselves home. It’s not safe here for the likes of you.”

  And he slammed the door in their faces.

  Murph couldn’t even look at his friends. How could he have been so wrong? He’d been certain he’d worked it out.

  “It must be him. It just doesn’t make sense,” he murmured, deflated.

  “But you heard it from his own mouth,” said Mary gently. “He isn’t the Blue Phantom.”

  “Well, who is, then?” Hilda breathed.

  Nobody said anything for a moment, and then an unexpected voice broke in from behind them.

  “I am the Blue Phantom,” said the voice.

  THE END

  Okay—not the end. But things are quite exciting at the moment, so we thought it might be a good idea to break the tension. Let’s all calm down for a minute with a nice story about a rabbit, shall we?

  Interlude: The Tale of Alan Rabbit

  Alan Rabbit gamboled up to the top of the hill and looked out over the meadow. The morning sun was just rising above the hedges, and all the world seemed new.

  Alan twitched his little rabbit nose: twitch, twitch. Then he wiggled his little rabbit tail and began singing a song that went “Uh-huh, oh yeah, shake your rabbit booty.”

  Just then his phone rang.

  “Hello,” said Alan Rabbit into the phone. “Yes, Mom. Yes, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Now, Old Mrs. Pollyanna Rabbit was a most particular rabbit. She kept their sandy rabbit hole spotlessly clean and was quite put out if houseguests made a mess.

  Only the other day, Mr. Pobbletoes, the death metal badger, had made an awful commotion in the scullery, smashing the television and smearing chocolate sauce up the walls.

  “I do declare, I am quite distracted,” Mrs. Pollyanna Rabbit had bemoaned, surveying the damage and calling him a taxi.

  She had only just this very morning finished getting everything back in order.

  Alan Rabbit bounced back into the rabbit hole, simply covered with dew and good vibes. “What’s for breakfast, Mother?” he asked.

  “I’ve made your favorite,” Mrs. Rabbit said with a smile, “avocado on sourdough toast. It’s all ready for you in the scullery.”

  “What is a scullery, Mother?” asked Alan Rabbit as he dug into his delicious repast.

  “Hush now, tish and patootie,” scolded his mother. “Eat your breakfast, and I shall sing you your favorite song.”

  “The o
ne about the otters?” asked Alan Rabbit excitedly.

  “Yes,” soothed Old Mrs. Pollyanna Rabbit. And then she sang him this song about otters, which you must make up a tune for. Just reading the words is not acceptable.

  Old Mrs. Pollyanna Rabbit’s Otter Song

  Baby otters, baby otters,

  Rolling in the sun.

  Baby otters, baby otters,

  Having lots of fun.

  See them gambol, see them play,

  See them take a pee.

  Baby otters, baby otters,

  What will they grow up to be?

  Adult otters, probably.

  Ah, that’s better. Feeling calmer?

  Right, where were we? Ah yes . . . a voice behind them just said something really exciting.

  20

  Flight of the Super Zeroes

  “I am the Blue Phantom,” said the voice behind them.

  The five friends spun around on the spot with their mouths open, a display that would have earned them perfect marks if synchronized surprise were an event at the Olympics.

  Standing behind them was a slender figure in blue armor, casting a huge, dramatic shadow back over the deserted and, in places, still-smoking playing fields. The figure reached up and removed a sleek blue helmet, revealing the beaming face and fluffy hair of Flora, the headmaster’s secretary. “Hadn’t figured that one out, had you?” she asked them delightedly.

  Murph rolled his eyes. His day could not get any weirder. But, as he’d learned by now, sometimes it’s best to just go with the flow. So he did.

  “You’re the legendary Blue Phantom?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know about ‘legendary,’” replied Flora modestly.

  “Who are you, then?” said Mary, turning to Carl, who had reopened his door and was staring at Flora with his eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah,” added Murph. “Why is there a photo of you and Captain Alpha in your shed?”

  “Are you a Hero too? What’s your Cape?” Hilda wanted to know.

  “I don’t have a Cape,” replied Carl gruffly. “I was the only one here without one until Kid Normal came along.”

  “But the Blue Phantom wouldn’t have gotten very far without him,” added Flora kindly. “Who do you think built my car? And invented my armor? And who do you think designed that HALO unit they’re still using, eh?”

  “What, the thing that looks like a cell phone?” asked Murph.

  Carl and Flora both laughed.

  “That unit was around a long time before cell phones,” she told him.

  “So, you’re what? Her sidekick?” asked Hilda.

  “Yeah, if you like. Sidekick,” said Carl, not sounding as if he was too keen on the word. “I prefer ‘husband,’ but yeah, ‘sidekick’ if you like.” He turned and disappeared back into his workshop, calling over his shoulder to Flora as he did so, “What do you want to do with these folks, then?”

  “We could do with all the help we can get on this one, I reckon,” she replied.

  Carl didn’t answer, but they could hear rattling noises and a door creaking.

  The Super Zeroes turned back to the Blue Phantom.

  “So . . . you used to swoop in and save the day when all hope was lost?” asked Hilda.

  “Well, yes, that was the general idea,” replied Flora.

  “Are you . . . are you still available to do that?” inquired Billy hopefully.

  “Well, it’s been quite a while, dear. The world has changed. You can’t go saving anyone these days without someone shoving a camera in your face. Back in the old days, I just used to track down the bad guys and kick them in the face. Nowadays you’re a scandal on the news! Oh, and the risk assessments you have to do! I haven’t got time for risk assessments. I’m the Blue Phantom,” Flora pointed out, “not the regional manager of a shoe store.”

  Murph wondered if this was the real reason that nobody had seen the Blue Phantom for so long. But there wasn’t time for that right now. He stepped forward:

  “Well, I haven’t got a camera phone. My mom won’t let me. But we do need to save our school, and you know what? Only the Blue Phantom can help us now.”

  In the background, Carl dropped an oilcan as if to punctuate Murph’s movie-like declaration. It added to the drama of the moment and gave Murph and the rest of the gang a little shiver.

  “Well, I could never say no to that line,” smiled Flora. “Come on, then,” she called through the open shed door to Carl, “fire her up!”

  “Fire what up?” said Murph. “You don’t mean . . .”

  He was interrupted by the whine of jet engines from the larger building to the side of Carl’s workshop. The double doors that had always been locked tight shuddered and then burst open. A plume of smoke and dust billowed out, and when it cleared, a bullet-shaped silvery-blue object emerged.

  With a deep purr from the engines, the Blue Phantom’s car gracefully rolled out into the afternoon light, its four enormous black tires hissing as they ate up the tarmac in front of them and the jet engines making a haze in the still air.

  “We call her the Banshee,” said the Blue Phantom proudly, “and she’s not taken us on a mission in thirty-five years. Nothing to worry about, though . . . just means she’s well rested, eh, Carl?”

  They all looked inside the Banshee to see Carl in the cockpit, chuckling to himself. “She’s been well looked after, dearest,” he added happily.

  “You mean this has been in that shed the whole time? I’ve been sweeping up leaves right next to the world’s coolest car, and you didn’t think to say something?” sputtered Murph.

  “Well, those leaves weren’t going to tidy themselves, and I needed to keep you focused. You had to live up to your name. Isn’t that right, Captain Brush?” Carl gave a wheezy chuckle. “And incidentally, this school isn’t going to save itself either. So we can all stand around here chatting like old hens, or we can jump into the Banshee and save the day.”

  Everyone was a big fan of the second option by this stage, and began to work out how to get in. The front seat was Flora’s spot—it seemed only right considering it was her car—and she was in there like a flash. Or more accurately, a phantom. A quick double somersault, a forward dive, and she was ready to go. Mightily impressive it was, too.

  “Pilates,” she explained. “Keeps you wonderfully supple.”

  The Banshee didn’t have much in the way of a back seat, but there was an area behind the twin pilots’ chairs where Murph and the four other Super Zeroes squashed themselves in.

  The inside of the jet car smelled of leather and oil; the floor was metal. In front of them Carl was flicking switches on a wide control panel that was covered with exciting colored lights. With a hiss of hydraulics, the doors closed, sealing them all inside the shiny capsule.

  “Off we go, then!” cried Flora chirpily.

  “That’s it?” blurted Murph.

  “What do you mean, dear?” asked Flora, turning around.

  “Well, haven’t you got a really cool catchphrase for when you launch your jet-powered car?”

  “Yeah,” piped up Billy.

  “Well, what do you suggest, Billy?” asked Flora.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He panicked. He hadn’t thought of an alternative. “Ummm, something like . . . ‘BANSHEE-A-GO-GO’?”

  Everyone laughed. Billy’s head swelled with embarrassment.

  “Let’s stick with ‘Off we go, then’, then,” decided Murph.

  “Right, hold on!” Flora turned back to Carl and said matter-of-factly, “Off we go, then.”

  There was a clunk, a whizz, and a ping, which was mildly exciting. Then suddenly a humongous roar, which was very exciting indeed. They were all pressed down into the floor as the Banshee shot into the sky.

  “Ribbon Robotics, you said, Murph?” shouted Carl over the noise of the jets. “That’s over on the other side of town. I know it. Doesn’t look like great conditions for us, though,” he muttered, consulting the control panel in front of
him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” piped up Hilda. “It’s turning into a lovely evening, perfect for a picnic or a little horsey ride or, you know, flying around in a jet car.”

  “Not in a secret jet car, though,” Carl told her. “Everyone in town is going to see us. We need to find cover.”

  “I can help!” said a muffled voice from underneath Murph’s leg.

  It wasn’t a voice he recognized. Shocked, he realized that it had come from a very squashed Nellie.

  Nellie muscled her way out from under the aforementioned Murph-leg, or leg of Murph, and squeezed herself in between Flora and Carl at the front of the cockpit. Then she screwed her face up in concentration.

  Almost immediately, a layer of thin white cloud began to appear below the hovering Banshee, spreading out like ripples on a pond to cover the whole town.

  “Wonderful work, dear!” exclaimed Flora. “Is this the first time you’ve used your Cape in a real situation?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Nellie in a panic.

  Flora laughed kindly and ruffled her hair. “Well, you’ve done remarkably well. Thank you.”

  Carl reached over to the control panel and pulled a lever. They heard a whirring noise as the jet engines rotated and the Banshee shot forward across the sheet of concealing cloud.

  Mary wanted some in-flight information. “So if you’re the Blue Phantom . . . ,” she began.

  “I think we covered that,” murmured Murph.

  Mary shushed him. “Then who runs The School, you or Mr. Souperman?”

  “Well.” Flora considered this question. “We all set it up together, really. Geoffrey looks after day-to-day matters. But I certainly keep an eye on things. After all, Murph, who do you think suggested to him that you should stay at The School?”

  “Why did you want me to stay?” Murph asked.

  “Oh, well, I’ve always had a soft spot for the boy without a Cape, you know,” said Flora, reaching over and squeezing Carl’s hand. “And you looked so miserable sitting there that day. Poor little mite. Anyway . . .” She peered out of the windshield. “It’s a left turn here, isn’t it, dear?”