SuperZero Read Free

I could fly? Maybe I could suck blood? I was so excited I went charging down the stairs . . .
    Only to trip over my cape and . . . !!@&*%
    Ow, and no—I couldn’t fly! All I could do was hurt from the fall and itch from the bites.

    Today,
finally
, we had a promising day planned. The class was taken out for a field day—to practise ice cream cone melting just by staring at it. (Huh. Even I could do that. Just hold it in the sun long enough, and superstare or not, it would melt.)
    But get this. I was EXCUSED! And sent home SICK! Because of the bites. Grrr.
    I itched and itched and itched all through the night.

    Dad, sitting down for breakfast the next day, said to me: ‘You know, you would make a great sportsman. How about going to Sports Academy instead?’
    Mom, burning breakfast, to me: ‘You are going to Superhero School already.’

    Dad, spilling coffee, to me: ‘You could make a great lawyer. Or doctor. Or . . .’
    Mom, dropping pan, to me: ‘Or superhero.’
    Dad, banging spoon, to me: ‘There is no such thing as a superhero!’
    Mom, walking out of room, to Dad: ‘There is no such thing as a free breakfast. Make it yourself!’
    Me, still itching: ‘Why’s everyone shouting? Who’s deaf?’
    Gra: ‘Who’s dead?’
    Itch . . . itch.
    P.S. The spoon that Dad banged has bent double. Hey, cool! Maybe
he
is an undiscovered superhero, and I’ve got his supergenes. I think I will get him angry enough to bang and bend some more things and take them to school so I can pretend I’ve bent them myself.
    Itch, itch.

5. Remember it’s always Ladies First (especially when there’s danger)
    Today, we had a surprise visit from our school Double-Headmistress. She came in to our class and gave us a long speech about us being sterling stars of the future and splendid saviours of the city and special specimens of humankind. Both her heads kept talking, so no one else got a chance to get a word in.
    Head 1: ‘Boys and girls . . .’
    Head 2: ‘. . . and mutants and subspecies and . . .’
    Head 1: ‘. . . you have all come together from near and far. Your families have sent you to us. Because you are unique. You are about to change the world. Each of you has been found by your parents to be supremely gifted . . .’
    Head 2: ‘. . . and supremely weird . . .’
    Head 1: ‘. . . stop interrupting me! Now, where was I? Yes, your parents have trusted us to bring out your superpowers, your abilities to fly or teleport, or morph,or read minds, or—’
    Head 2: ‘Yawn!’
    Head 1: ‘Stop yawning. Stop interrupting!’
    Head 2: ‘Stop talking!’
    This went on for half an hour. Double-Headmistress gave us another long, moving, long, powerful (did I say long? Yawn!) speech about how we should use our superpowers only to do good and fight evil.
    Head 1: ‘. . . and so I’d like to end by saying . . .’
    Head 2: ‘. . . who is that rude boy who’s asleep?’
    So of course, they had to wake me up again, from when I’d fallen asleep again, and I bumped my head again and got another lump AGAIN.
    Anyway, Double-Headmistress finally came to the point. There was apparently a chain-snatcher loose in the city and we superkids had been called in to the rescue.
    Hoodie hoo!
    ‘I wanna go!’ I jumped up.
    Double-Headmistress’s two heads swung around and dashed each other. Ow!
    Head 1: ‘Ouch! And why, rude boy, must you go?’
    Head 2: ‘Ouch! And why not?’
    Anyway, Masterror made the team which, if anyone asked me, was useless. (Of course, no one asked me.)
    There was Vamp Iyer, who’s of no help in violent situations since he wouldn’t draw a drop of blood and only drank milk, and Anna Conda (okay fine, she’s not useless). And the last potential Catcher of the Chain Snatcher was . . . All the kids kept leaping up and holding their hands high. I just closed my eyes and focused. Good things come to those who wait (and focus). Focus—fowcussss—focussss—

    ‘Slime Joos!’ barked Masterror.
    Huh?

    I headed