Kid Normal
Page 20
Instead, they turned down a wide, tree-lined street and pulled up outside a house that can only be described as the exact opposite of the one he was living in until the previous afternoon when it was destroyed by a giant motorcycle-size robot wasp. Where the other house had been boxy and new, this one was interestingly shaped, with eaves and nooks and chimneys. Plus, it was old. Very old, in fact. It even had a well in the front yard, and that’s how you know a house is really ancient. And underneath hanging ivy, the front door was painted blue. A good, solid, old-fashioned blue.
“Come on, then,” his mom coaxed him. “Let’s have a look inside.”
Murph followed her in, wondering if this was the house of some new friends she’d made or some sort of boring museum of bicycles. She’d taken him to one of those before, so he was on high alert. But there didn’t seem to be anyone inside, or any bikes, thankfully.
Murph turned to his mom in the neat tiled hallway and asked the obvious question. “Who lives here, then?”
His mom looked like she was about to let out that brewing burp of excitement. “We do,” she replied, raising her eyebrows.
“What?” replied Murph intelligently.
“WE DO!” she repeated, doing a mombarrassing dance of excitement.
“How?” said Murph, with a cautious grin appearing on his face. Even if it was only going to be a temporary place to stay until they moved, this was still going to be a pretty cool house to spend the summer in.
“The man from the insurance company sorted it out,” said his mom, “and said he’d do all the paperwork for me and everything.”
“O . . . kay . . . ,” said Murph, immediately scenting outside interference. “What did he look like, this man from the insurance company?”
“Um, more like a soldier than anything else, I suppose,” mused his mom. “He was dressed in black and wearing huge boots . . . Anyway, don’t worry about all that. Go and have a look at your bedroom. It’s right at the top. I thought you’d like the lookout tower so you can keep a watch on things!”
Murph zoomed up the stairs, past Andy, who was listening to music in his new bedroom through the world’s biggest headphones. He darted up another set of stairs and pushed open the door.
Murph was stunned. What lay before him was his dream room. The beams of the roof made interesting sloping angles in the ceiling. At the front a wide skylight was open to the evening sky, and, best of all, at the back of the room, a wooden door led onto his very own balcony, which overlooked a long, overgrown, and winding garden.
He ran out and gazed over the roofs of the town glowing red in another rich sunset. This was the perfect base for the Super Zeroes. But before his imagination could run away with him, a familiar feeling of light dread descended upon him—as if a couple more baby eels had been set free in his insides. This new base would only be temporary, until he was snatched away from his friends once again.
He shook himself like a post-puddle wet dog and a few moments later bounded back downstairs. His mom was waiting for him with a cup of cocoa, looking like there was more of that excitement burp still to come.
Murph narrowed his eyes at her appraisingly. “What’s up?” he said slowly, sensing mischief.
There was a smile about to burst out of her tightly clamped lips. They stayed glued together for a few seconds until they exploded open.
“We can stay!” she blurted out.
“WHAT?” Murph was stunned.
“My boss called me into his office first thing this morning and told me he’d found the money to keep my job open. We can stay. This is home. Our home. We’re home!”
She grabbed her boy and gave him the biggest, most wonderful mom hug possible. One of those ones where everything bad is squeezed out of the world.
Murph noticed a flash of lightening over her shoulder. The other four Super Zeroes were gathered underneath the streetlight on the road at the end of their new driveway. Mary was skipping around and grinning while dangling a yellow mind-control helmet from one hand.
Murph broke off the hug. “Your boss . . . when he called you in,” he began, “he didn’t happen to be wearing any sort of hat, did he?”
“Yes, he was! How on earth do you know that? Some sort of weird yellow thing. I thought he’d just come in on his bike or something,” she added. “But anyway, the contract’s all signed!”
Murph and his mom looked each other straight in the eye. “That’s great, Mom,” he said simply, and they hugged again.
Looking over his mom’s shoulder, Murph could still see Mary skipping around like an excited mongoose. His mom realized he was gazing out the window and craned her neck to have a look, too. Mary quickly hid the yellow helmet behind her back.
“Who are they?” said his mom.
“My friends,” said Kid Normal proudly.
“Ah, the mysterious friends of yours! I was beginning to think they didn’t exist,” she replied, smiling a smile so big it nearly took up her whole face.
“Is it okay if I go and hang out with them?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“Of course,” she said. “Go and have some fun.” The last word came with a slight choking sound, along with another item from the ever-growing list of mombarrassments: proud tears.
Murph ducked out the door before it got too bad and darted toward his gang.
“What on earth have you been up to, Canary Girl or whatever it is you called yourself?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear.
“Rescuing you, silly. As per usual,” Mary replied. “Welcome home. And since you are the leader of the Super Zeroes, I think you’ll be wanting this.” She was holding out the HALO unit.
Murph took the phone, which still bore the simple message HALO UNIT OPERATIONAL. He turned it over in his hands, wondering what he was supposed to do with it.
As if on cue, its bright green light began to flash. The message changed.
HALO ALERT. ALL UNITS RESPOND.
Murph looked up at his friends.
“Go on, then, answer it!” prompted Billy, one finger ballooning with excitement.
Murph lifted the handset to his mouth.
“Super Zeroes receiving!” he said firmly, recalling the words he’d heard the Posse use all those months ago. “Kid Normal active.”
He was followed by the others.
“Mary Canary active.”
“Balloon Boy active.”
“Equana active.”
“Rain Shadow active.”
“Alliance calling,” said a calm voice from the phone. “Attention, Super Zeroes. Please proceed as directed to—”
But let’s leave it there, shall we? I bet you’d love to know what the voice said next. And you will, in time. For now though, annoyingly, we’re going back into the new old house for the final words of the book.
Here they come:
Inside the new old house, Murph’s mom watched from the window, one mombarrassing tear still trickling down her cheek, as her youngest son and his new friends turned and dashed off into the gathering twilight.
THANKS . . .
. . . first of all to our great friend, the wonderful Stephanie—the third member of Team Normal. Without you,
Murph would still live in our heads.
Thanks also to the loveliest publishing people in the world at Bloomsbury, especially Hannah, who had to read this book five million times and still drew smiley faces in the margins beside the bits she liked.
Thanks to Erica for bringing the Super Zeroes to life. We love you, you inky-fingered Spanish genius. Peace and love to Podcastards everywhere.
GREG WOULD ALSO LIKE TO SAY: To the special few people I invited into this world before it was ready, thank you for your love, support, and guidance. However, please don’t tell Bloomsbury I did that because I’ll get in trouble. And to Mum, Dad, and Sis, thank you for being my best mates and for making me realize anything is possible.
AND FROM CHRIS: They say the family of the 21st century is made up of friends, not relatives. Tha
nks to my entire family. And last but most, thank you Jenny for everything.
Without you it’s a waste of time.
FINALLY: Thanks to you, for reading our story. Now go and write your own!
GREG JAMES is a familiar voice and face on British radio and TV. He’s the host of BBC Radio 1’s award-winning show Drivetime and the Official Chart music broadcast. On screen, Greg has hosted a variety of shows, including the recent special BBC Children in Need, and in 2016 he raised over a million dollars for the charity Sport Relief by completing five triathlons in five cities in five days. He has no superpowers. In his spare time he enjoys the idea of having hobbies, but always tends to turn those hobbies into work.
CHRIS SMITH is an award-winning journalist and broadcaster who delivers the news to millions of people every day as the anchor of Newsbeat on BBC Radio 1. Chris enjoyed a previous glittering literary career as the winner of the H.E. Bates Short Story Competition in 1981 (under-ten category). Chris has no superpowers either, although he enjoys pretending his cat Mabel can fly by picking her up and running around.
BLOOMSBURY CHILDREN’S BOOKS
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This electronic edition published in 2018 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
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First published in Great Britain in July 2017 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc Published in the United States of America in June 2018 by Bloomsbury Children’s Books
Text copyright © 2017 by Greg Milward and Chris Smith
Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Erica Salcedo
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