by Jane Kelley
It’s my archenemy—Mrs. Brussels.
5
NOT MRS. BRUSSELS!
“Oh, Wally!” Mrs. Brussels wobbles over to me. She pretends to give me a hug. But she smothers me in her plastic coat. I fight my way out.
“I rushed right over the minute your mommy called,” Mrs. Brussels says.
“Guardians are supposed to wait in the cafeteria,” Ms. Apple says.
“I’m Wally’s babysitter,” Mrs. Brussels says.
“Babysitter?” M.L. says.
Clint McCool is not a baby! I make a tough face.
Mrs. Brussels pats my cheek. “Have you had a hard day? Soon you can curl up with Mr. Snuggles and take a nap.”
“Mr. Snuggles?” M.L. says.
“That’s what Wally calls my fuzzy robe. He holds it when he sucks his thumb,” Mrs. Brussels says.
“I don’t suck my thumb!” I shout.
“That’s right, Wally. You don’t,” Mrs. Brussels says. “You chew your fingers.”
Everyone is laughing. At me!
“Ms. Apple,” says Principal Torres from the speaker. “Please lead your class to the cafeteria.”
“Everyone follow me,” Ms. Apple says. “Walter, you can go with Mrs. Brussels.”
Ms. Apple gives my cap to Mrs. Brussels.
“Come along, Wally.” Mrs. Brussels grabs my hand.
This is terrible! I break free from Mrs. Brussels. I rush over to Marco and M.L. I fly through the air. They step backward. I land on the floor. I grab their ankles.
“Please come with me,” I say. I’m not ashamed to beg. “I’m not mad at you anymore.”
“You’re not mad at us?” Marco says.
“What did we do?” M.L. says.
“You lost my button down the drain. And you wouldn’t share your XL7 Ray Benders,” I say. I smile up at them. I wipe some slobber off their shoes.
M.L. puts her arm around Marco. They follow the other kids out of the classroom.
I call after them. “Don’t you want to have an escapade?”
They don’t even look at me.
The door shuts.
“My goodness, Wally. Those children didn’t even say good-bye,” Mrs. Brussels says.
“They forgot,” I say. I try to fix the XL7 Ray Bender. The extra foil falls on the floor. Everything is ruined.
Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! I have to find Sol-Ray Man. Together we can fix the water pipe. After we save the day, Marco and M.L. will be so impressed. They’ll have to be my friends again.
“Hurry up, Mrs. Brussels.” I saw Sol-Ray Man walk away from the school. I have to catch up to him.
I try to drag Mrs. Brussels down the stairs. She holds the railing.
“No need to rush, Wally. Better safe than sorry,” Mrs. Brussels says. “Remember when you fell down my steps? You got an owie on your knee. You cried and cried.”
I’m not listening. She doesn’t fool me. She wants me to be a baby. But she won’t win.
We get to the first floor. She gasps for breath. I grab my cap. I put it on my head. I run out the front door. I hurry toward Thirteenth Street. I hear Jack Hammer. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.
Oh no! Big blue boards block the sidewalk. A river flows down Thirteenth Street. How can I follow Sol-Ray Man?
Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! I can take the boards and make a raft!
I rush over to one board. I try to lift it up.
A guard grabs my arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have to find Sol-Ray Man!” I say.
“Does this one belong to you?” the guard says to Mrs. Brussels.
“That’s my Wally.” Mrs. Brussels pinches my cheek.
“You can’t cross here. You have to go to Fourteenth Street and go around the block,” the guard says.
“But Sol-Ray Man and I need to save the day!” I say.
“Ha, ha, ha.” Mrs. Brussels laughs. “Silly Wally. You’ll do no such thing. It’s time for your nap.”
“Noooooo!” I shout. Is this the end? Has Clint McCool been defeated?
6
SAVING THE DAY
Mrs. Brussels hooks my arm with her umbrella. She drags me toward Fourteenth Street. “You need a nice rest. With Mr. Snuggles. After your nap, it will be lunchtime. I’ll make creamed spinach. And for a treat, stewed prunes. Won’t that be yummy in your tummy?”
My stomach groans, No!
I pat it. I promise it nachos and sour gum balls and pepperoni pizza. It’s still upset.
We turn the corner. We walk up Fourteenth Street. We walk past the school.
I can’t hear Jack Hammer anymore. I hear children shouting from the playground across the street.
They’re having fun. I’m not. They’re with their friends. I’m not. My friends didn’t want to be with me. But I don’t know why.
I push the Idea Generator button. I wait for a brain flash.
I don’t get one. I push the button again. Nothing. I pound on it.
“Wally, my goodness. Is your hat bothering you? I can hold it,” Mrs. Brussels says.
Mrs. Brussels grabs my cap. I hang on tight. We walk down the sidewalk together.
“Those buttons look so sharp. Don’t worry. We’ll make them nicer. I have soft pink yarn at home.”
I groan. What’s wrong with my cap? Did Mrs. Brussels deactivate it? I need to fix it. But how?
Marco would know. He knows everything. M.L. would help him. She helps everyone.
Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash!
“I need my friends!” I shout.
“But, Wally, sweetie pie, they didn’t want to play with you,” Mrs. Brussels says.
She’s right. They didn’t.
Hmm. I wonder why. Maybe because I wrecked their stuff and said bad things. Why was I so mean? They aren’t my enemies.
Forget Sol-Ray Man! I need to find Marco and M.L. before another terrible thing can happen. We already had an alligator fight, a water pipe break, and a Mrs. Brussels attack. But the worst thing ever is no friends!
“When your mommy called, I was so happy,” Mrs. Brussels says. “Just think, we get to spend all day together.”
I groan. We walk past the playground. Some preschool kids are playing in the sandbox. Grown-ups sit on benches close to Fourteenth Street.
“Aren’t we lucky?” Mrs. Brussels says.
I don’t feel lucky.
Then I hear Marco and M.L. laughing. They’re up on the jungle gym.
I wave at them. They don’t see me. I need to go to my friends.
Mrs. Brussels walks past the playground. Why is she going faster now? I have to stop her.
“What nice benches. Mrs. Brussels, wouldn’t you like to rest?” I say.
“Oh no,” Mrs. Brussels says.
How can I make Mrs. Brussels stay? Can I bribe her? I don’t have any creamed spinach. Or prunes. What else does she like? Besides telling embarrassing stories about me.
Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash!
Marco’s mom is sitting on the bench. “Hi, Marco’s mom. This is Mrs. Brussels. She’s my babysitter,” I say. “She changed my diapers.”
“Oh yes. That was a job,” Mrs. Brussels says. “One time, Wally’s mom lost her ring. She thought Wally ate it. How could she get it back? Well. What goes in must come out. So day after day, I had to keep a lookout.”
Mrs. Brussels sits on the bench.
I rush over to Marco and M.L. I climb up on the jungle gym.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have stolen your XL7 Ray Bender. I shouldn’t have messed up your sandwich. I shouldn’t blame you when things go wrong. I shouldn’t even blame Mrs. Brussels.”
We look at her. She is still talking. The grown-ups are holding their noses. It’s a terrible story.
“Maybe just a litt
le?” M.L. says.
We all laugh and climb higher.
Marco fixes the messed-up XL7 Ray Bender. He gives it to me. I give it to M.L. “Here. You wear it. I have my cap.”
Marco and M.L. hold up their arms. “Let’s zap a message to Sol-Ray Man,” I say.
“Tell him Clint McCool wants to meet him,” M.L. says.
Hmm. I wonder if that will work.
Then we hear a big noise from Thirteenth Street.
CRASH!
7
MONSTERS?
“What was that?” I ask.
We look across the playground toward Thirteenth Street. We don’t see anything. Now we hear water gushing. Like someone flushed a giant toilet. We hear grown-ups shouting. “Stop digging! Another pipe broke!”
“Another pipe?” M.L. says.
The gushing sound gets louder.
“Look!” Marco says.
Water is coming from Thirteenth Street. It flows across the playground.
The little kids in the sandbox don’t see it. They are too busy fighting over a shovel.
The grown-ups are sitting on the benches by Fourteenth Street. Mrs. Brussels is still talking. “Finally I found the ring.”
The water comes closer to the little kids. It’s brown and dirty. Old bottles and pieces of wood float by.
“Save the kids!” I shout.
M.L., Marco, and I climb down. We each grab a little kid. The kids wriggle. They don’t want to be picked up. We carry them to the jungle gym.
We climb up the rungs just as the water rushes under our feet.
Water flows across the sandbox. The shovel floats toward the benches.
The grown-ups try to get their little kids. One lady slips and falls in the water.
Marco’s mom helps her up. The grown-ups stand on the benches.
“Wally, what have you done now?” Mrs. Brussels says. She opens her umbrella.
The little kids are scared. They reach toward the grown-ups. “I want Mommy!”
“Stay there! Stay there!” the grown-ups yell.
My kid wriggles free. I grab her waist.
M.L.’s kid tries to climb down. “I’m scared!” he says.
“Help!” M.L. shouts.
Marco tries to. But he has to hold onto his own kid. “Help!” Marco says.
We all need help.
“Mommy!” the little kids yell. They keep squirming.
“Don’t leave. You have to help save the day!” I shout.
“How?” they wail.
I don’t know how.
Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! The kids need to do something. Then they can be heroes.
“See the water? There are alligators down there,” I say.
“Alligators!” the little kids shriek.
“Luckily they’re in a cage,” I say.
“What cage?” M.L. says.
“This one.” I pat the bars of the jungle gym. “But we have to keep the cage from breaking apart. Everybody hold the bars. Tight. Squeeze them together!” I shout.
“Like this, Clint McCool?” Marco puts his kid’s hands on the bar.
“Yes! Use both hands,” I say.
The kids all squeeze the bars.
“Where are the alligators?” one kid asks.
“They’re hiding. Don’t worry. They can’t escape. If we keep the cage together,” I say. “Oh, oh, M.L. You aren’t using both hands.”
M.L. puts her left hand back on the bar. “Like this, Clint McCool?”
“That’s great,” I say.
“I’m tired,” one kid says.
“We need everybody to hold on tight. You can do it. You’ve got superpowers,” I say.
“How do you know?” another kid asks.
“Because . . .” I look at Marco. “How do I know?”
“Because he’s Clint McCool. He knows all about saving the day,” Marco says.
I hear lots of splashing behind me. Something big is coming toward us. What could it be?
Maybe there really are alligators. Maybe they want more buttons. Can alligators climb bars?
If the kids see the alligators, they’ll get scared. They won’t want to hang on. But they need to. Now more than ever.
“Look at your hands! Use your laser beam eyes! Give your muscles extra strength!”
Splash, splash, splash. It’s getting closer.
Water splashes up against our legs.
Big hands grab me from behind.
Everybody screams!
8
A REAL SUPERHERO
Someone tries to pull me off the bars. I kick him away. I have to keep saving the kids.
“We got you,” a firefighter says.
Three firefighters carry the little kids. Two police officers carry Marco and M.L.
A familiar voice says in my ear, “You can let go now.”
I look over my shoulder.
Sol-Ray Man holds me.
I rub my eyes. I can’t believe it. I know I imagined the alligators. Is he really real?
His cape floats in the breeze. His big hands hold me above the water. I touch his XL7 Ray Benders. They sparkle more than Marco’s.
Sol-Ray Man carries me toward Fourteenth Street.
My brain is zinging and zonging. I need to calm down. I don’t have a button that does that! I hold my cap on tight. That helps—a little.
I’m with Sol-Ray Man! I can talk to him! I have so much to say!
I open my mouth. “Blub, blub, blub,” comes out.
Oh no! I push the Translator button. “Pasta, ziti,” I say.
Italian again? I groan. Where are the words I need?
The firemen carry all the kids up Fourteenth Street. The grown-ups wait on dry ground.
Sol-Ray Man puts me down near them. Mrs. Brussels tries to smother me in her coat.
“What a flood,” Mrs. Brussels says. “Just like when you put your whale slippers in the toilet.”
I groan.
“Remember, Wally?” Mrs. Brussels asks. “Wally?”
Sol-Ray Man smiles. “Answer your grandma, Wally.”
Disaster! Sol-Ray Man thinks I’m a kid. How can I show him I’m not?
A news crew is on the street.
“Sol-Ray Man, can you tell us what happened?” a reporter asks. “You had to save the day for real. How come you were wearing your costume?”
“I usually wear jeans and a T-shirt.” Sol-Ray Man laughs. “I was supposed to talk to the schoolkids this morning. The water main broke. My talk got canceled. I was on my way home when the second pipe broke. The playground flooded. We had to save the kids.”
“The water could have washed them away,” the firefighter says. “Luckily, they were on the jungle gym.”
“But they weren’t. The preschoolers were in the sandbox,” Marco’s mom says.
“How did they get to safety?” the reporter asks.
“The big kids carried us,” says one kid.
The reporter comes over to Marco, M.L., and me. “You did?”
“Everybody was scared. We didn’t want to go. But Clint McCool knew what to do,” says the second kid.
“He said we’d be okay if we held the bars. That kept the alligators in the cage,” says the third kid.
“So we did,” says the first kid.
“That was a good idea,” the reporter says.
“How did you think of it?” M.L. asks.
“Did you push your Idea Generator button?” Marco points to it on my cap.
“What’s that?” Sol-Ray Man says. “Can I see?”
I give my cap to Sol-Ray Man. He holds it. He carefully touches the buttons. I feel tingling all over.
“Is this where you get your superpowers?” Sol-Ray Man asks.
“That’s how he activates them,” Marco says. “He already has the powers.”
“Let’s get a photo of the two superheroes,” the reporter says.
Sol-Ray Man kneels down by me. Now we’re the same height. “Smile, Clint McCool,” he says.
I’m already smiling. I’m so happy. Then I see Marco and M.L.
“Wait,” I say. “Marco and M.L. need to be in the picture, too. And the kids.”
“Everybody?” the reporter asks.
“Everybody. We’re all superheroes,” I say.
Mrs. Brussels pushes in front of me. “I better stand with my Wally.”
Sol-Ray Man lifts me up. Marco and M.L. raise their arms. Their XL7 Ray Benders zap beams to the sky. The camera flashes.
“We all worked together!” I say. “That’s how you really save the day!”
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