Superhero School

by Alan MacDonald

  ‘Well, that depends,’ grumbled Mrs Sponge. ‘Are we having lunch today or not?’

  Miss Marbles shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Sponge, but we’re really rather busy right now,’ she said. ‘I’d like everyone to gather in the hall.’

  Everyone crowded into the main school hall. Stan took his place with his friends in one of the front rows, where he’d get a good view. He felt a thrill of anticipation.

  It was only his first day, but already he’d helped to disarm a Random Aerial Missile Machine and survived an attack from a giant fly. It was certainly more exciting than listening to Mr Horrocks recite the seven times table.

  Miss Marbles spoke briefly about the importance of remaining calm under pressure, then handed over to the new professor of criminal science. Von Hardbum clicked a button on a remote control and a large picture of the Green Meanie appeared on a screen.

  ‘Take a good look,’ said Von Hardbum. ‘This is the evil genius you are up against – probably one of the greatest criminals of all time.’

  Miles raised his hand. ‘How come I’ve never heard of him?’ he said.

  ‘Because you are a small boy with the brain of a woodlouse,’ replied the professor. ‘Now, if I may continue, what do we know about this master villain? Firstly, that he’s diabolically clever; second, that he’s a master of disguise; third, that he’s never yet been captured.’

  A hand shot up. Miles again. ‘I thought the paper said he escaped from prison.’

  ‘Yes, well, all right, if you’re going to be picky, Mister Smartypants, he was captured once,’ said the professor. ‘But that was down to bad luck and getting my . . . umm . . . his cape caught in a revolving door.’

  The professor pointed to the picture on the screen. ‘Supervillains do not look like everyone else. Note the mask, green bodysuit and impressive cape – these things should give you a clue. But as I said before, he is a master of disguise. He could be dressed as a window cleaner or an ice-cream salesman. He might even be your grandma. Trust no one, suspect everyone.’

  Stan found himself looking round at the faces in the hall.

  ‘Thank you, Professor,’ said Miss Marbles, taking over. ‘It goes without saying that we all need to be on our guard. The Green Meanie has attacked us here once and he’s threatened to strike again. I want two members of staff patrolling the grounds at all times. Report to me anyone who looks suspicious – especially if they’re wearing a mask. Professor, you wanted to say something?’

  FACT FILE: THE GREEN MEANIE

  THE GREEN MEANIE

  DESCRIPTION: Lean, green, mean

  SPECIAL POWERS: Power over vegetables

  AMBITION: World domination – or failing that his own reality TV show

  STRENGTHS: Diabolically clever, master of disguise

  WEAKNESSES: None

  SUPER EVIL RATING: 62 (appeal pending)

  ‘Yes, Headmistress,’ said Von Hardbum. ‘If I can make a suggestion, why wait for him to come to you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow,’ said Miss Marbles.

  ‘Well, look around,’ said the professor. ‘All these bright young superheroes, eager to make their mark. Why not send them out? Let them track down this villain and bring him to justice.’

  Stan raised his hand. ‘But what if he’s here?’ he said. ‘Hiding in the school?’

  Von Hardbum laughed uneasily. ‘Oh, I hardly think that’s likely.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Mrs Sponge. ‘He might have arrived by cabbage.’

  The professor silenced her with a glare. ‘Believe me, this is the last place he’d be. If I know the Green Meanie, he’s out there somewhere hiding in his secret lair.’

  It wasn’t long before Miss Marbles was busy organising all the pupils into groups and mapping out areas of the town for them to search. Stan, Miles and Minnie waited until it was their turn.

  ‘Ah, Stan,’ said the head teacher, ‘I have a very special job for you and your friends.’

  ‘Really?’ said Stan. ‘Should we wear our new costumes?’

  Miss Marbles smiled. ‘Well, that’s up to you,’ she said. ‘They might get a bit dirty.’

  Miles rinsed out his mop into the bucket. ‘It’s not fair,’ he grumbled. ‘Why pick on us?’

  ‘If you did more mopping and less moaning, we might get finished,’ said Minnie.

  Stan swept bits of eggshell into a pile. When Miss Marbles said she had an important job for them, he hadn’t expected it to be cleaning up the classroom. The rest of the school were out in the town hunting the Green Meanie, which sounded a lot more exciting than washing congealed egg and squashed fly off a sticky floor.

  ‘I wonder where that fly came from,’ he said.

  Miles shrugged. ‘Flies get everywhere.’

  ‘Yes, but how did it grow so big?’ asked Stan.

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Miles. ‘Maybe it ate too much cake.’

  ‘You can’t get that big just by eating cake.’

  ‘You haven’t met my gran,’ said Miles.

  Minnie turned to face them. For the last five minutes she had been staring anxiously out of the window. ‘Has anyone seen Pudding?’ she asked.

  ‘No, why?’ said Stan.

  ‘I left him in the playground, but I can’t see him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Stan. ‘He’s probably off chasing a cat or something,’ said Stan.

  ‘He’s scared of cats.’

  ‘Oh. Well, anyway, the gates are locked. What could happen to him?’

  Down in the kitchen a large saucepan of rice pudding bubbled and hissed on the stove. The Green Meanie pulled on his mask and turned round, whirling his cape.

  ‘How do I look?’ he asked.

  ‘Like a big green gooseberry,’ said Mrs Sponge. ‘Give me a kiss!’

  ‘Get off, Mother!’ scowled the supervillain. ‘There’s no time to lose. They’re all out on the streets looking for me.’

  ‘But you’re not on the streets, sugar lump,’ said his mother.

  ‘Of course I’m not. That was just my cunning trick to get them out of the way. Now there’s no one left but Miss Marbles. Heh heh heh!’

  ‘Well, and me,’ said Mrs Sponge.

  ‘Yes, OK, and you.’

  ‘And those three children I saw just now.’

  ‘WHAT?’ cried the Green Meanie. ‘I thought they’d all gone out.’

  ‘Well, I thought so too, buttercup, but I just passed them upstairs, mopping the floor.’

  ‘Curses!’ muttered the Green Meanie. ‘Very well, I will deal with them later.’

  Mrs Sponge added more pepper to the rice pudding. ‘Now, dumpling, you’re not going to do anything naughty, are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Mother. Pass me the Gigantinator.’

  Mrs Sponge hunted around, finally locating the device underneath a damp tea towel. She wiped it down and handed it to her son.

  ‘I hope we’re not having any more flies,’ she said. ‘They spread germs.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the Green Meanie. ‘The fly was just a warning, a little taste of what’s to come. This time that halfwit headmistress won’t escape so easily.’

  ‘But, bunnikins, surely you’re not actually going to harm her?’

  The Green Meanie waved a gloved hand. ‘Well, of course not, Mother. I’m not going to harm anyone. Now, what shall it be this time? A spider? No, something bigger, I think . . .’ He raised a hand. ‘Wait! What was that?’

  ‘The rice pudding?’ said Mrs Sponge.

  ‘No, not that – someone’s coming!’ snapped the Green Meanie. ‘Quick, hide! No, on second thoughts, I’ll hide. You stand there and try to act normal.’

  He slipped behind the door and waited. Mrs Sponge grabbed a fish slice and stood with it raised like a dagger, trying to look normal. Both of them held their breath and listened.

  Someone was coming down the stairs. Whoever it was, they were trying to tread softly but not making a very good job of it. Th
e Green Meanie heard small thumps and creaks, followed by the sound of panting. He gripped the Gigantinator, though it wasn’t much use in the circumstances. If it was the police, one blast from its deadly rays would transform them into giant constables with size-22 feet.

  The small thumps came on, then stopped. He could hear the intruder right outside the door, breathing heavily. Mrs Sponge backed away, fighting an urge to scream. The door swung open slowly.

  Something padded into the room and stood there with its tongue hanging out.

  ‘Oh, look!’ cooed Mrs Sponge, squatting down. ‘The little sausage! He must be lost.’

  The Green Meanie came out from behind the door. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘How fortunate he found his way down here. Shut the door, Mother.’

  There was an evil look in his eye. He fiddled with the Gigantinator, turning the dial from BIG to EXTRA BIG to GIGANTIC.

  His mother looked at him. ‘Bunnikins! You wouldn’t!’

  Minnie’s voice echoed down the corridor. The three Invincibles had been searching for half an hour, but there was no sign of their fourth member.

  Stan sighed. ‘He could be anywhere. Maybe he’s gone home.’

  ‘He never goes home – not without me,’ said Minnie.

  ‘I expect he’s hungry,’ said Miles. ‘I am.’

  There was still no sign of lunch, or of Mrs Sponge who always served it in the dining hall. With everyone out in the town, the school suddenly seemed deserted. Minnie opened a door and glanced around the empty classroom before shutting it again.

  ‘I don’t see what you’re so worried about,’ said Stan. ‘You keep saying he’s a wonderdog.’

  ‘He is,’ replied Minnie, ‘but he gets scared if I’m not with him.’

  ‘Scared of what?’

  ‘Well, spiders for one thing.’

  ‘Spiders?’ said Miles.

  ‘Not just spiders. Squirrels, sparrows, doorbells, thunder, alarm clocks – he’s sensitive.’

  ‘He’s a nutter,’ muttered Miles.

  Stan had gone ahead of them and was kneeling down to examine something on the floor. He rubbed his left ear, which was itching. ‘Does Pudding have big feet?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘This mark looks a bit like a dog’s paw print. But it can’t be – it’s way too big.’

  Further on they found evidence of more muddy prints like the first one. They seemed to be heading in the direction of the main hall. Stan scratched his ear again.

  ‘I wish you’d stop doing that,’ said Miles.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t help it,’ said Stan. ‘It itches. Maybe we should get Miss Marbles.’

  ‘What for?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve just got a bad feeling.’

  ‘It’s only Pudding. Surely you’re not scared.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Stan. ‘It’s just that my ears are nervous.’

  Minnie rolled her eyes. ‘Well, you can fetch Miss Marbles if you want to, but I’m going to find Pudding,’ she said, marching off towards the hall. Stan and Miles looked at each other and then hurried after her. They hadn’t gone far when a deafening noise stopped them in their tracks.

  ‘Was that a dog? It didn’t sound like a dog,’ said Miles.

  But Minnie had heard it and set off at a run. Stan and Miles caught up with her as she burst into the hall. They all froze.

  ‘Uh-oh!’ said Stan. ‘This can’t be good.’

  Pudding turned his enormous head to look at them. He was no longer a small, brown shaggy dog. Now he was a HUGE brown shaggy dog, big as a Bengal tiger and twice as hungry. His lead trailed on the floor.

  ‘GRRRRR!’ he snarled.

  ‘Puddie Puds?’ gulped Minnie. ‘Have you been eating too many biscuits again?’

  Pudding took a step towards them, but the lead round his neck pulled tight. A tall masked figure stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in green from head to toe and wearing a long cape that swept to the floor. In one hand he grasped Pudding’s leash and in the other he held something that looked like a deadly ray gun, or possibly a hairdryer. A faint smell of cabbage hung around him.

  ‘YOU!’ said Stan. ‘You’re the one in the paper – the Green Mintie!’

  ‘The Green Meanie!’ snapped the masked villain. ‘Yes, you fools, it is I, the Count of Crime, number forty-four on the Darklord list of most wanted supervillains of all time.’

  ‘What have you done to Pudding?’ cried Minnie.

  ‘Pudding?’ said the Green Meanie. ‘Perhaps you mean Fang, my new pet.’

  ‘He’s not called Fang,’ said Minnie bravely. ‘He’s my dog and he only listens to me.’

  ‘Is that so?’ The Green Meanie smiled coldly. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’

  He let go of Pudding’s leash and pointed a finger. ‘GET THEM, FANG!’ he snarled.

  Pudding bounded forward with a low growl that didn’t sound too friendly. ‘GRRRRR!’

  The hairs stood up on the back of Stan’s neck and his ears burned as he backed towards the door.

  ‘Stan,’ croaked Miles, ‘I think we should . . . you know . . .’

  ‘Exactly.’

  They turned and ran. Stan made it to the corridor first, skidding on the slippery floor.

  Bricks and plaster came tumbling down as the monster dog burst from the hall, taking the door with him. Stan swerved right and hurtled through the next pair of doors, running for his life. Suddenly a hand appeared from nowhere and grabbed his arm. It sent him sprawling into a room where seconds later Minnie and Miles landed on top of him.

  ‘OWW! OOOOF!’

  There was a click of a key turning in a lock and someone turned round to face them.

  ‘Miss Marbles, it’s you!’ said Stan.

  ‘Of course it’s me! Now, will one of you please explain what on earth is going on?’ said the head teacher.

  ‘It’s Pudding!’ panted Minnie. ‘He’s a giant and he’s chasing us!’

  Miss Marbles looked confused. ‘You’re being chased by a giant pudding?’

  ‘No, no, Pudding is my dog,’ said Minnie.

  ‘Then why is he chasing you?’

  Together they explained as quickly as possible. Miss Marbles listened, fiddling with her glasses, as her expression grew more and more worried.

  ‘You mean the Green Meanie is here?’ she said. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, we just saw him.’ Stan nodded. ‘He’s out there now . . .’

  A loud crash made them jump. There was the sound of breaking glass and a series of thuds and bangs from further down the corridor. Pudding was on the move, sniffing them out.

  ‘MISS MARBLES?’ called a loud voice.

  The head teacher put a finger to her lips.

  ‘I know you’re hiding somewhere,’ called out the Green Meanie. ‘Give yourself up and I promise you the children will go free.’

  Stan shook his head. ‘Don’t trust him,’ he whispered.

  There was a crash that sounded like a wall falling down.

  ‘I don’t think we have much choice,’ said Miss Marbles.

  ‘Maybe we do,’ said Miles. ‘Look at this!’

  He had picked up a copy of The Pocket Guide for Superheroes from Miss Marbles’ desk. It was open at Chapter 15 . . .

  Face it, we’ve probably all been in this situation at one time or another. One minute you’re walking down the street thinking about cream buns, the next you’re facing a three-headed, bug-eyed beast who wants to eat you alive.

  The crucial thing to remember when coming across a crazed monster is, DON’T PANIC. First, look at the facts . . .

  1. Monsters are bigger than you. (The clue is in the word ‘monster’.)

  2. Monsters are stronger than you.

  3. Monsters’ main hobbies are roaring, tearing and devouring. Throwing them a stick to chase isn’t going to work – and believe me, I’ve tried it.

  So what can you do? Here are a few things that can work . . .

  A. Run.


  B. Hide.

  C. Run AND hide.

  D. Think of a brilliant foolproof plan.

  Sadly, D is the point where many superheroes come unstuck. All I can say is, good luck, and remember: the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

  ‘Huh! Fat lot of help that is,’ said Miles, slamming the book shut.

  ‘But it’s right,’ said Stan. ‘All we need is a brilliant plan!’

  ‘Oh well, why didn’t you say so before?’ said Miles.

  But Stan was pacing up and down, talking excitedly. ‘Remember that thing the Green Meanie had in his hand?’ he said.

  ‘Pudding’s dog lead?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘No, the other thing. It looked like some sort of super-gizmo. I bet that’s what made the fly gigantic.’

  ‘You mean he used it on Pudding too?’ said Minnie.

  ‘Exactly.’ Stan nodded. ‘So don’t you see? It’s simple. All we need to do is get our hands on that gizmo.’

  ‘And how do we do that exactly?’ asked Minnie.

  Stan turned to the head teacher. ‘We’ll need to borrow your glasses, and a dress, miss,’ he said. ‘Oh, and a wig – if you’ve got one.’

  Five minutes later, the three Invincibles slipped out into the shadowy corridor. There was no sign of the monster Pudding or his sinister new master. They crept forward cautiously, all except for Miles, who was making enough noise to wake the dead.

  ‘Can’t you walk more quietly?’ hissed Stan.

  ‘It’s these shoes,’ grumbled Miles. ‘Why am I the one that has to dress up?’

  ‘Stop complaining,’ said Minnie. ‘I think you look very pretty – doesn’t he, Stan?’