My Gym Teacher Is an Alien Overlord

by David Solomons

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  He laid a gnarled hand against his cheek and slowly drummed his fingers. “In an ideal world, would I like to take my revenge on Star Guy and his little helpers? Yes. Naturally. Of course I would. Some would say I’d be insane not to. But look at me. I’m penniless and homeless. I sleep in the back room of the store on a futon. You of all people should know that you can’t be an effective supervillain without a proper lair and millions to spend on R & D. Death rays don’t come cheap. Obviously, they’re cheaper than shrink rays, but that’s not the point. As for purchasing a suitable property to convert, what with house prices around here—not to mention the city council’s planning department—forget it. I mean, really, you build one volcano full of radioactive spiders, next thing you know they won’t even give you approval for a kitchen extension.” He shook his head gloomily.

  I wasn’t buying it. “So you’re saying if only you had the money—and the planning permission—you’d take your revenge?”

  “I’m not saying that at all. You forget, I never intended to be the villain. I wanted to be the hero.” He looked past me with a faraway expression. “My whole life, all I dreamed of was becoming a superhero.” He blinked. “But that’s over. The man you see before you is no more than a humble comic book seller.”

  I didn’t believe a word. I searched his face for a clue to his real intentions, but all I could see were wrinkles. “What about your close call with Nemesis?”

  “What about it?”

  Did he take me for a complete fool? “You want me to believe you got that close to the biggest asteroid in the galaxy and it didn’t give you superpowers?”

  He nodded. “Fair point. Gaining superpowers from an asteroid or meteorite is a classic, some might even argue overused, comic device. Indeed, it is a route I myself have pursued, in my less enlightened past.” He thought for a moment. “Well, I do get a tingling sensation in my right foot now when the weather’s about to change, but I think that might be due to a touch of arthritis.” He placed one hand over his heart and threw out the other, then said in a weird, trembly voice:

  “Now my charms are all o’erthrown,

  and what strength I have’s mine own,

  which is most faint.”

  He looked at me. “The Tempest,” he explained.

  “From Ultimate X-Men?”

  He sighed. “From Shakespeare.”

  Nope. I still didn’t believe him. I’d seen it too many times. The villain defeated in one story comes back in the next, and this time he’s seen the error of his ways and he’s all goody-goody. But it’s a trick! And just when the hero least expects it, he reveals his true evil face and—

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Aha!” I jumped on his admission. “Because you have telepathy.”

  “No, Luke, because we’re alike. We could have been friends.” He gave an awkward cough. “If I hadn’t tried to destroy your brother and knock you off my super suit. Anyway, bygones and all that. And you’re wrong. I’m not pretending to be innocent while plotting some evil payback. I’m done. Finished. Out of the supervillain business.”

  He had to be lying.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Swear on it.”

  “OK. Yes. If that’ll help you believe me. So, what shall I swear on?” He shambled over to a shelf of comic books and plucked one down. “How about Doctor Strange’s magic order? By the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth . . . No? Ah, now here’s a classic. He-Man’s proclamation. By the power of Grayskull . . . I have the power. But no Power Sword, so that doesn’t work. Wait, I know. Oh, this is perfect. I’ll swear on the oath of the Green Lantern Corps.”

  “No,” I said firmly.

  “The Blue Lantern Corps? OK. Niche. But OK.”

  I had a much better idea. “Swear you’re not a supervillain . . . on Star Guy’s oath.”

  Serge had come up with the oath, and like everything else to do with Star Guy, after Nemesis its popularity had exploded. I said he should claim royalties, but Serge said that wouldn’t be in the right spirit. Then Q-Piddy used it as the lyrics for his song “Stop Me Before I Chill Again” and bought an island with the profits.

  The important thing was that the oath would help me determine once and for all if Christopher Talbot was telling the truth. I knew it was cruel to force him to say the oath of the superhero who had defeated him, but if the words stuck in his throat, then I’d have my answer.

  Christopher Talbot swallowed. A bead of sweat, a nervous twitch—I was looking for the smallest sign. He began to recite the words.

  “Granted cosmic superpower

  In our darkest hour,

  Star Guy, star light,

  Protector of the world tonight.”

  “There,” he said, clapping his hands. “Now, how about a nice cup of tea? I have cookies.”

  “What kind?”

  “Poisoned,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

  I knew he was joking but decided not to eat them anyway.

  “Would you mind?” He gestured to a cane propped against the back of the chair.

  I gave it to him. He leaned on the stick and began to limp off. As he passed the counter he saw that no one was manning the store.

  “Rafe,” he called out. I guessed he was looking for the sales assistant with the stubborn bangs. “Rafe Peacock, where are you?!” He tutted. “I can’t even afford proper help these days. He’s my sister’s boy. I was doing her a favor.” He pointed the cane at the abandoned cash register. “Now, nepotism, there’s a terrible power.”

  I’d never heard of nepotism, but it was weird to think of Christopher Talbot having a family. You don’t read much about villains’ family life in comics. I wondered why. Maybe it would make them too sympathetic, knowing that they had a mom and dad.

  “It’s Rafe’s last day working here. When he’s gone, it’ll just be me. Ah, well.” He looked around the empty store. “Now, where were we? Yes. Tea and cookies.”

  I caught myself. Afternoon tea with the villain formerly known as the Quintessence—what was I thinking? “I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said quickly, and hurried for the door.

  His face fell. “Yes, yes. Of course. I understand.”

  I glanced back. Christopher Talbot stood hunched over his cane. “Another time then.” He smiled sadly and shuffled off toward his little room at the back of the store.

  I stumbled onto the pavement and took a deep lungful of air. I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding my breath for so long. I had the oddest sensation. It took me a few moments to pin it down. As impossible as it seemed, I felt sorry for Christopher Talbot.

  Bottom of the Bag

  I wandered Main Street, my head whirling after my strange encounter. Christopher Talbot was alive. He must be up to something. Or had he hung up his mask and cape, as he claimed? He’d passed my Star Guy oath stress test, which was pretty conclusive. But even the toughest test could be outwitted. Hadn’t Captain Kirk outsmarted the unwinnable Kobayashi Maru? Hadn’t Parminder Chaudry scored a perfect 100 percent in the unbeatable mental arithmetic (non-calculator) test?

  Zack had accused me of seeing supervillains everywhere. Was this another of those times? Christopher Talbot had been a supervillain, but only by accident—or so he said. I was confused. Usually I trusted my instincts, but I’d gotten it spectacularly wrong with Miss Dunham, and somewhere between the kids at school and my brother, I’d lost my confidence. What I needed was a second opinion. I took the bus out of the town center and headed for Serge’s house.

  • • •

  Serge lived in a cul-de-sac, which is French. Perhaps his parents chose it because it reminded them of home. Two bicycles lay in the driveway. I recognized Serge’s Peugeot mountain bike, but there was also a sleek racer that I hadn’t seen before, with upgraded Shimano pedals and carbon-rimmed wheel
s.

  I couldn’t ring the doorbell, in case his maman was home, so I snuck around the back. Serge’s bedroom overlooked a small yard with a statue of a winged boy that peed into a round pond. When we first met, we’d figured out that his bedroom window faced mine, and we’d spent a week and a half, each standing in our own house, waving and shining increasingly bright lights to establish if we could see one another. We could not. There was no direct line of sight, and we were separated by 2.3 miles of suburb.

  I cupped my hands to my mouth and hooted like an owl. It wasn’t a prearranged signal or anything; it just felt like the right thing to do. After a few more hoots, Serge appeared. He unlatched the window and threw it open.

  “Ah, I thought it must be you,” he said in a low voice. “What are you doing here?”

  I was about to reply when another figure joined him at the window. I could barely believe my eyes. It was Josh Khan. The grinning architect of my misery. With my best friend.

  “Well, if it isn’t Luke Pie-walker himself.” Josh cackled.

  “That isn’t funny,” I said. “It doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Of course it’s funny,” he said with a snarl. “Steve, tell him it’s funny.”

  Steve? Who was he calling Steve?

  Serge looked from Josh to me and back again. “Ah, I would not like to say. I often struggle with your clever English wordplay. A lot of it does not translate, you know.”

  I could see that Josh didn’t care. “Whatever. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time talking to a loser like Cry-walker here. Cry-walker. Now that is funny. Come on, Steve.” He disappeared back into the room. Serge lingered at the window.

  “Steve?” I said.

  Serge grimaced. “He was not listening properly when we were introduced, and it has gone on so long now that it would be impolite to correct him. And possibly hazardous.”

  I couldn’t get my head around what had happened. “When did you two even become friends?”

  “Our mamans put us together. They believed it would be a good idea. His family once spent a week at a gîte in Brittany.” He shrugged. “I have been stuck playing Puny Earthlings! with him since the commencement of the break.”

  Serge had teamed up with my worst enemy to play the game I so desperately wanted to win. “Have you defeated Star Guy yet?” I asked, holding my breath as I awaited the answer.

  “Non,” said Serge. “It is that force field of his. It protects both him and Dark Flutter, and it is impenetrable.”

  Good. Victory was still up for grabs. At least that was something. I was about to tell him about Christopher Talbot when I heard the rattle of a car engine in the driveway.

  “It is my maman,” cried Serge. “She has returned from Zumba.”

  “Where’s Zumba?”

  “It is not a where; it is a what. But that is not important right now. You must disappear, immédiatement.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m like Batman,” I said. “Silent, undetectable, invisi—”

  “Luke.”

  “OK, OK, I’m going.” I paused. “But I need to talk to you about something important. Meet me in the tree house tonight.”

  “I cannot. You know that.”

  “Serge, listen to me. Christopher Talbot is alive. And I think he’s plotting a comeback. Anyway, I need you.”

  In the silence that followed, the only sound was water whizzing from the statue of the winged boy.

  “STEVE!” Josh’s voice boomed. “I’M WAITING!”

  “I am sorry,” said Serge. And before I could object, he tugged the window shut and was gone.

  With Great Power Comes Great Annoyance

  I trudged home with a heavy heart. How could Serge do this to me? What had the world come to, when he’d rather hang out with Josh Khan than join me in the tree house to hatch an overly complicated plan to thwart a potential supervillain?

  If he wasn’t going to help, then perhaps another member of the old gang would. A little over half an hour later, I found myself on Lara’s doorstep. Her big sister (and the object of Zack’s affection), Cara, opened the door.

  Cara was fourteen and dangerous. Not the “poisonous bite” or “razor-sharp claws” kind of danger, but the kind that takes a long look at the world and says, “Out of my way—I’m coming through.” She had sleek black hair and blue fingernails. She wore a glittering nose stud, and there was a rumor she’d gone by herself to a music festival in a field. She was as tall as Finn Stanton, captain of the school football team, and she had a Viking boyfriend called Matthias, who’d once met someone who’d seen Nebula from Guardians of the Galaxy in a Walgreens.

  She tugged out her earbuds. I got a blast of the new Billy Dark album. “Hey, kid.” Cara had a low-slung voice, and her words seemed to slide out as if they’d been slouching on beanbags, waiting for a shove. She called me kid these days. I think it was because she couldn’t remember my name, but I kind of liked it anyway.

  “Hi, Cara. Is Lara in?”

  “Yeah. For a change.” She shook her head. “I’ve never known anyone who spent as much time at the library as my sis. She’s turned into a serious bookworm.”

  So Lara was using the same cover story as Zack, pretending to be studying when she was in fact out performing heroic feats, faster than a speeding squirrel.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said. “My brother’s at the library all the time. In fact, he’s there so often I’d call him a book-sandworm. That’s a really huge kind of worm. From Arrakis, the desert planet, source of the spice melange. Actually, they’re more like a lamprey than a—”

  “She’s in her room,” Cara said abruptly, standing aside to let me past.

  I trotted upstairs to Lara’s bedroom and was raising my fist to knock when the door flew open. She stood there clutching a gym bag, which I knew contained her Dark Flutter costume.

  “Luke, hi. I’m really sorry, but I’m just going out.” She patted the gym bag. “Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s me.” She smiled. “You know how it is.” She swept past me to the top of the stairs. “Off to the library,” she said in a loud voice for the benefit of her big sister. Cara was below in the hall, smooching with her boyfriend, Matthias the Viking, in front of a coatrack.

  “Can it wait a minute?” I said in an urgent whisper. “This is important.”

  She hesitated. “Let me check.” With that, she closed her eyes.

  I knew instantly what was going on: she was communicating telepathically with Zack. I felt a prickle of envy.

  “Zack says I can have five minutes.”

  “That’s nice of him,” I said tightly. “I didn’t know you’d started doing that together.”

  “Telepathic communication? Oh, yes. Why bother with phones or squirrels when you can just think to each other, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And maybe once we’ve discussed your important business,” said Lara with a nervous smile, “I can tell you about mine? I really need to talk to you, Luke. Only you.”

  “Sure.” I glanced down at the canoodling couple, concerned that they might overhear our conversation. “Perhaps we should continue this in private?” I turned to her bedroom. The door was ajar.

  “Uh, no, you can’t go in there.” She threw herself between me and the door.

  “Why not?” I squinted past her through the gap. Her room looked remarkably spick-and-span. I had a suspicion that was immediately confirmed by the flash of a bobbed tail. “Are you using woodland creatures to tidy your room?”

  “No.”

  “Lara?”

  “OK, OK. So maybe. Please don’t tell Zack. He says using your powers for anything other than heroic acts is a slippery slope to the dark side.”

  I fumed. He hadn’t said that; I had.

  There was a squeak at our feet. A gray rabbit crouched in the doorway.<
br />
  “No, the red top can go in the dresser drawer,” said Lara. The rabbit hopped back into the bedroom. “Now, what was it you had to tell me?”

  I filled her in on my encounter with Christopher Talbot. When I’d finished, she thought for a moment and then said, “You should tell Zack. It sounds important, and I’m sure he’ll be right on it.” She touched my arm. “Luke, I’m glad you came. We really haven’t had a chance to talk in ages. So much has happened.” She paused. “Y’know, it’s funny, but at first when Zorbon gave me my superpower, I was frightened. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be a superhero. But then Zack said something that helped me understand. Not everyone is meant to make a difference, but for me the choice to lead an ordinary life is no longer an option. Isn’t that amazing? Your brother is so wise.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “It was Spider-Man,” I spluttered. “Spider-Man said that. Not Zack.”

  “Well, anyway, Zack was wise to repeat it.” Lara’s eyes shone. “And now I love being Dark Flutter. When I’m older I’m going to be a vet during the day and Dark Flutter the rest of the time. I’ll be able to ask a Labrador where it hurts, show a swan the right exercises for that broken wing. I can’t wait for the rest of my life to begin. Can you?”

  “Can’t wait,” I mumbled. To me the thought of growing up was filled with anxieties about school, girls, and melting polar ice caps. Mostly the future felt like a big, scary secret that no one would let me in on. It was all right for Lara and Zack—they had a purpose, a shield to protect them against the unknown. Me? I was defenseless and completely clueless.

  “But there is one thing . . .” began Lara. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “I don’t know quite how to say this. You and I have been through a lot together. You’re like my—oh, hang on.”

  Zack was calling again, asking for an ETA. Our time had come to an end. Lara had to fly.

  “Mustn’t fiddle while foam burns,” she said.

  “Rome,” I said with a sigh. “It’s while Rome burns.”