Being smart was everything to my mother—not just making good grades, but really knowing things. When my family left Ireland, none of us children spoke a word of English. We’d been born in an Irish-speaking region in the west. But once we had landed here in the United States, Mam was determined that all us kids would go to school, learn English and everything we could, and make successes of ourselves.
“It’s the American way,” she liked to tell us with a wink. “And when you’re all big shots, you’ll buy me boxes of chocolates for Christmas each year. That’s the American way too—treating your mother like a queen!”
But life is full of curlicues.
My mom could see us making something of ourselves in school. But what she couldn’t foresee was the war taking my father away, leaving her to raise Vinnie, Lou, and me on her own.
Or me having to take a job to help her do it.
Mam felt bad about that, but I didn’t mind so much. And really, what choice did we have when stomachs were in need of feeding, little brothers were outgrowing their shoes and pants and shirts, and rents to that awful Mr. Hunter—terrible Toby’s dad—were always coming due? Thank goodness my cousin Kay was around to help us.
“How many of you are there?” asked Mae, careful not to trip over my brothers, who had decided it was a good time to start wrestling on the floor before us.
“We’re as loud as twenty. But aside from my mom, there’re just two boys and two girls,” I said, stepping over to separate my brothers. “You met my cousin Kay and, of course, me. Then there’s this one here,” I continued, grabbing Vinnie by the arm and pulling him to his feet, “with the fresh black eye he must have gotten today after school, playing too rough at basketball—he’s Vincent.”
“Not at basketball! I got it from Lou about an hour ago,” hollered Vinnie, diving onto the living room sofa and hiding beneath my favorite green blanket. Then, peeking out, he asked Mae and Akiko, “Do you want to know the best way to treat a black eye? You put a metal spoon in the icebox so it’s nice and cold, then press the back of the spoon to the injured part around your eye. Cold compression is what you’re after.”
Mae was clearly impressed—having Vinnie around was like having your very own walking, talking bookshelf. He was filled with facts. I bet Mae’s granny would love him.
“And this little angel is Louis,” I said, giving his pudgy cheeks a pinch.
“He looks just like you,” said Mae, running her finger along her nose and cheekbones. “Same face, same hair. You both resemble your mom.”
“And Vinnie lookth like our dad,” chirped Baby Lou just before diving onto the couch beside his big brother.
“Is this him?” asked Akiko, who had been slowly making her way around the room, from the photographs on the bookshelves to those on the fireplace mantel and then to the radio, staring into the faces. She glanced over at Vinnie and smiled, then turned back to the picture hanging on the wall. “In his uniform like that, he reminds me of my brother, Tommy.”
“Our daddy fought at Pearl Harbor,” said Baby Lou, who had decided to sit upside down on the sofa now.
“He’s a hero,” added Vinnie in his serious way, perched on the sofa’s arm next to Lou. “The Japanese sunk eighteen ships that day, including five battleships. Our dad saved one of them. He got a medal for it.”
Akiko looked across the room at me, her eyes sorrowful.
“It was a terrible day,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry he was there.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to go into it all, not with my little brothers around. “He’s fought lots of battles in the Pacific,” I said, reaching out to Vinnie’s mop of dark hair and tousling it. “Our dad is like Captain Flexor. Right, boys?”
My brothers cheered and tumbled off the sofa for another wrestling match as my mom stood in the living room doorway, draping a light sweater over her shoulders. Her expression was pained as we held each other’s gaze for a moment or two.
She looked so weary.
“I’ll be home from the shipyard before you wake, love,” she said. I stepped over to give her one last hug. “Just put them to bed soon and tuck them in. And I cooked a supper too, since the boys complained so much about your . . .” Then she caught herself. My lamb stew was famously bad. “Well, what I mean is, you have options for supper tonight. A liver loaf is warming in the oven, and buttered spinach is on the stove top. The boys have eaten already. At least I think they have.”
She planted another kiss on my forehead. “Stay safe. No trouble,” she whispered—to me if not to heaven.
I’d try.
But I couldn’t make any guarantees.
Twenty-One
LIVER LOAF? AND SPINACH?
I glanced over my shoulder toward the sofa table and spotted a plate of Lorna Doone shortbread cookies. Vinnie and Baby Lou were setting up a game of Parcheesi now, cookie crumbs dotting their faces as they called goodbye to Mam. It was clear to me what my little brothers were really eating for dinner, and it wasn’t liver loaf. Or spinach.
The radio was playing, and both my brothers bopped their heads to the music. I could hear Baby Lou singing along with Bing Crosby about swinging on a star and moonbeams in a jar.
“Stars are big, exploding balls of gas,” I heard Vinnie explain. “So we couldn’t really swing on them. Plus, they’re about ten thousand degrees, so they’d be really hot to touch.”
Baby Lou agreed, his mouth full of cookies. “Ex-thactly,” he said. Or something close to that.
I gestured silently toward the kitchen, and Mae, Akiko, and I backed away from the boys as if they were sleeping giants. If Vinnie and Baby Lou kept themselves busy, then the three of us could talk without being interrupted every five minutes.
I pulled my lamb stew from the icebox and scooped out heaping helpings. Pouring tea into cups, I listened as Akiko and Mae began testing each other’s puzzling abilities.
“That cipher is so easy, Akiko,” Mae scoffed, her pencil flying across Akiko’s paper. “All you did was drop the vowels. I was solving these kinds of things in second grade!”
Akiko folded up her notebook and tucked it back into her Hauntima bag. She adjusted her barrette with a little huff of irritation.
“We have so many things to figure out,” I began, setting the bowls onto the table. “Like poor Emmett! I can’t stop worrying about him. Do you think Mr. Hissler wants to use him and the other boys for something bad?”
Akiko sniffed at the stew, her face crinkling up like a prune. But ever-polite Mae nibbled on a bite and gave me a half-hearted smile. “Nice,” she said, though she looked pained.
I offered to heat it up.
“No, no,” they both said, waving their hands. “That won’t be necessary.”
Scenes from our day tumbled through my mind. “So who made the Stretcher go missing?” I wondered. “Mr. Hissler probably did it. But he seemed to be running away when the Stretcher was vaporized. Was someone else behind it?”
“And why was Hauntima just a ghost of herself?” said Akiko, scowling into her stew. “And what about the other superheroes? Where have they gone?”
We were quiet for a bit, lost in our thoughts.
“I understand why you’re so worried about Emmett, Josie,” said Mae, politely pushing her spoon around in her bowl, probably to give me the impression she was eating. “Mr. Hissler made my hair stand on end. And then there’s the Duke and his spying on the computers.”
She began pacing the kitchen, tugging on her dinner napkin.
“So much has happened today. It makes me feel like I’ve known you both my whole life,” she said, her words coming fast. “But I’m confused, and my head is pounding.
“I went to the Carson Building to see about the position they’d advertised, calling for puzzle solvers. I love Granny Crumpler with all my heart, but I cannot sit through another summer with her and all her books. Whether it’s at home in Chicago or here, where she’s helping set up the new library.” Finally, Mae seemed to drop
her formal manner and show us her real feelings.
“I want to do something! I need to do something,” she continued, her voice rising. “My daddy’s over there, living in danger every day. I’d hoped to help the war effort as a puzzler and do my part to fight back against the evil that’s gripping this world. But then this happened,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the direction of Akiko and me. “You. Me. Us!
“And all I can say is that today felt pretty amazing! Is it really possible that we could have powers like Hauntima? Be as strong as the Palomino? Be as bold as Hopscotch and Nova the Sunchaser?” She took a gulp of tea. “Maybe—and this is dreaming—but maybe someday we could even be as inspiring as Zenobia.”
My heart raced like I was on my bike and pedaling at full speed. I didn’t feel smart enough or brave enough to wear a cape. And there was no way I could ever be considered in the same breath as Zenobia or the others.
“There’s some sort of mistake,” I whispered into my teacup. “Emmett’s kidnapping is my fault. I gave away too much about him. And that’s not something a real superhero would do. So I don’t think I’m the right person for this. I think somebody else is supposed to be with you two.”
Akiko scoffed and pushed back from the table.
“You don’t think you’re the right person?” she said, her voice tight. “Look at me! I can hardly breathe half the time because of my asthma and allergies. And I could barely perform the special power I’m supposed to have. If anybody is the mistake, it’s me!”
Mae picked up the teakettle and brought it to the table. She refilled Akiko’s cup, then mine. Finally, she spoke. And her voice was serious.
“Neither one of you is a mistake. And I’m not either. We three were chosen for a reason—maybe we’ll never know why, but there must have been a reason. And I think Mrs. B has something to do with it.”
Mae was all business now. Her words came slowly, barely above a whisper, as she took her seat at the table again.
“The cape, mask, and boots we found lying on the floor,” she began. “What if they didn’t have power from the Stretcher alone? What if the power lingering in the air and on those pieces came from—”
“Jothie?” Suddenly another voice was in the kitchen with us. It was Baby Lou. And he was dragging my green blanket behind him. “Vinnie’th falling asleep, but I need a story. Will you come tell us one?”
“Tell the story about Daddy on the battleship,” Vinnie said, his eyes barely open as he appeared behind Lou, leaning his sleepy head against the doorframe.
I got to my feet and turned Vinnie and Lou around. As much as I wanted to stay up late talking with Akiko and Mae, my brothers needed me tonight. And tucking them under a blanket and telling them a bedtime story was the best way I knew how to protect them from all the bad stuff in the world.
Twenty-Two
MAE, AKIKO, AND I WOKE early the next morning and quietly slipped out the door, heading right down the block to Gerda’s for breakfast. Before we left, I wrote Mam a quick note and adjusted the green blanket over the sleeping forms of Vinnie and Baby Lou. She’d have to walk them to school this morning.
“We’ve got to watch for the Duke today,” Akiko said in her sandpaper voice as we crossed the street. “Does he usually eat breakfast at Gerda’s?”
I nodded, looking up and down the block for any sign of him or his black sedan. I even looked for Emmett, though I wasn’t too hopeful we’d run into him on Captain Flexor Street. I’d have to ask Harry what he knew about the Duke. Harry was a good guy. Surely he was suspicious of the Duke too.
“And we’ve got to beware of Mr. Hissler,” Mae whispered, leaning in and making sure nobody could overhear her. “He might want to snatch one of us.”
“Doubtful,” Akiko said. “He didn’t think we were good enough puzzlers.”
“We’re plenty good,” Mae said. “But maybe it’s better that he never looked closely at our exams after all. I’d sure hate to be in his clutches.”
The bell over the diner door jangled as we walked into the restaurant. Gerda smiled warmly and pointed toward a back booth. “Harry will be glad to see you,” she said, picking up a coffeepot and following us to our usual booth. “He’s a little verschroben,” she whispered. Then, just to Akiko and Mae, she explained. “How would you say it in English? Cranky? ”
We slid into the booth and looked around. Gerda said she’d bring us the usual—plus some scrambled eggs. There were morning newspapers on the table from diners who had been sitting here before us, and Gerda stacked them to throw away. But we told her not to worry—the more news we could read, the better.
The diner was busy with the breakfast crowd, and I promised Gerda I would try to come in later today and help out. I could tell she could use the extra hands. And I could always use the extra money.
“Get a load of this headline,” said Akiko as she pointed to an article in one of the morning papers, her laugh like a deflating tire. “The reporter calls us the Power Pixies. Can you believe it? What a ridiculous name!”
We fell quiet as we looked through the stack. There were four different papers, and we were on the front pages of all of them.
“This paper calls us the Daughters of Hauntima!” said Mae, nearly shrieking in her excitement. “I like that name!”
It had been Mae’s idea to stop by Gerda’s Diner for breakfast before heading for the Carson Building in search of Mrs. B. I could tell that she and Akiko were starving. Even though we had a whole pot of the lamb stew still waiting back at my apartment, not to mention my mom’s liver and spinach, neither Akiko nor Mae had eaten last night.
“This one calls us the Tremendous Tykes,” I said, pinching my nose. “I’d say that one stinks. What else do you see?”
Gerda returned balancing plates and drinks. We slurped our milkshakes as we scanned the newspapers for more stories about yesterday’s fire and the caped kids who saved the day. I loved seeing a photo of me carrying one of the heavy men over my shoulder and another of Mae rescuing the cat.
“What’s the deal with running pictures of you two, when it’s clear we’re a trio?” demanded Akiko, practically shouting. I kicked her under the table and signaled for her to lower her voice. She was going to get our secret exposed before we even had a decent name! And who knew whether we could make yesterday’s superpowers return?
It seemed to be annoying Akiko that she didn’t have as many powers as Mae and me. “Josie has superstrength and telekinesis,” she complained, “and Mae’s got mental telepathy and the power to create storms.”
“Atmokinesis,” said Mae. “That’s its technical name.”
Akiko gave her the stink eye. She clearly knew the technical name too.
“Well, where’s my second power?” Akiko demanded in a huffy whisper. Then she paused for three quick sneezes. “All I got was shape-shifting. It’s not fair!”
“Shape-shifting is one of the best superpowers possible,” I whispered, trying to console her. Then I held up a different newspaper. “And look! Here’s a photograph that features all three of us. Not bad, right?”
The picture showed Akiko, Mae, and me in flight, soaring above the office building’s rooftop. Akiko seemed satisfied and dropped the subject.
“Good morning, Harry,” I said, sitting up straight and trying to catch his attention as he passed our table. But instead of his usual friendly face, today his forehead was creased with worry lines, and his eyes were almost squinting. He looked preoccupied. And he didn’t seem eager to chat with us. “Everything okay?”
“You should have come in a little while ago,” he said flatly. “Some kids were in here having an early breakfast. Your buddy Emmett was one of them.”
“Emmett?” I said, nearly knocking over my brown cow.
Harry nodded, then looked nervously around the dining area. “It was him, all right. I told him I was surprised he was here so early. He usually comes in the evenings, during your shift after school.”
Harry ran his hand
over his chin. “He sat right here, in fact, at this table.”
Emmett had been right here in Gerda’s Diner? At our table?
Twenty-Three
NEARLY SHOUTING, WE BEGAN BOMBARDING Harry with questions. Who was he with? Where did he go? How did he seem? What did he say?
Harry waved his hands to quiet us down.
“He seemed fine. He was here with my friend the Duke and some other kids. Three of them sat right here,” Harry said, fumbling with his apron string. “I think they were working on some math problems . . . or puzzles, maybe? Smart kids, I hear.”
And then Harry disappeared into the kitchen, saying something about poaching eggs.
Immediately I looked all around, frantically searching for a sign of some sort. Emmett would have left behind a clue to tell me if he was okay or not. But where? And how? He wouldn’t want the Duke to catch him.
I ran my hand along the underside of the table, feeling for a note—he could have stuck it there with bubble gum.
Nothing.
Then I felt all over the booth bench and in the crease where the back met the seat. Akiko and Mae checked theirs too. But all we found was some lint and a couple of pennies.
Akiko grabbed the menus and thumbed through them, looking for any sort of sign there. Mae poked around inside the napkin dispenser and unscrewed the salt and pepper shakers. Again, nothing. We shoved the stack of newspapers to the other side of the booth and even scanned the tabletop itself for some sort of hastily written message, but it was clean.
Then, like a silent snowflake, a sheet of white paper fluttered to the floor. It must have been tucked inside a newspaper. We sat stunned, watching as a customer stepped on it and left behind his shoe print.
“What’s that?” rasped Akiko. “Could it be a note?”
She leaned out of the booth and picked it up. It was a simple sheet of white writing paper. We flipped it from one side to the other and saw that it was blank on both the front and the back. “Nothing here,” she said, her voice heavy with frustration. “Maybe he meant to write something but ran out of time.”
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