The Astounding Broccoli Boy

by Frank Cottrell Boyce

  ‘Excellent work, my trusty minion,’ said Grim, patting me on the shoulder. He really was good at this Supervillain thing. It’s a shame it was Evil really.

  I tried to make it look as though I was used to teleporting to China. I should have been worrying about how to get back to the hospital, but I hadn’t eaten all day and the air was spiced with all kinds of cooking smells. The cafes’ windows were decorated with roasted ducks and chickens, sparkling with crisp skin. Outside one shop were piled the brightest, weirdest fruits I’d ever seen – tiny round ones coloured like Smarties, something that looked like a purple hand grenade, things a bit like apples but shaped like rugby balls, a box of papery lantern things with berries inside. ‘Moonlight Delight’ it said in silvery writing across the shop window. ‘I’ll say one thing for China,’ said Grim. ‘It smells good. I bet it tastes good too.’

  He reached for a papery fruit. I said, ‘Hey. They’re not ours.’

  ‘I’m evil. I take what I want, remember. I’ve just robbed a bank. I’m not going to worry about stealing a weird tomatoey thing.’ He did his evil laugh. But stopped when someone else joined in. It was a little girl with bunches in her hair, standing in the doorway of the shop. She said, in English, ‘Are you two goblins?’

  ‘Oh. No. Not goblins, no. Definitely not. Nothing like that.’ I didn’t want to say we were Superbeings because it sounded a bit showy-offy. At the same time I wanted to make sure she didn’t mention leprechauns.

  She shouted something in Chinese. From somewhere inside the shop an old lady appeared and put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder, chatting to her for a bit in Chinese.

  ‘She’s not going to laugh, is she?’ asked Grim.

  ‘They won’t laugh at you.’

  ‘Or mention leprechauns?’

  ‘Or mention those small people.’

  The old lady went back inside and came back with little bamboo boxes with wisps of steam coming out of their lids and big, pale, hot meat dumplings inside. They were soft and melty. Grim went to take one but I grabbed his hand just in time. ‘Traces of nuts,’ I said.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘yeah.’

  I sat down on the step to eat.

  ‘Tell me what they taste like.’

  ‘Won’t that make it worse?’

  ‘No. I like it when people describe. My mum always eats whatever she likes and then describes the taste of big bowls of steaming pastas swimming in thick creamy tomato sauces to me. She says – Let’s share. You have the smell and I’ll have the taste.’

  So I tried describing the dumplings for him – how the meat was a bit chewy and how you could feel the steam on the roof of your mouth. I was going on to tell him about the honey aftertaste when the old lady came back with two old-lady mates and all three of them started patting us on the head.

  ‘Whoa!? What’s going on?!’ whined Tommy-Lee.

  ‘They think you look like lucky goblins,’ said the little girl. ‘They’re patting you for luck.’

  Apparently the harder they patted us, the more luck we would bring them. Tommy-Lee was getting twitchy.

  ‘They want to know where you’re from,’ said the girl.

  I told her we were from Birmingham.

  The girl said something in Chinese and then explained, ‘I told them you were from Greenland.’

  Now the ladies were laughing.

  ‘Are you real?’ asked the little girl. ‘Or are you an advert? Like for frozen peas or something.’

  ‘We’re real. Of course we’re real.’

  She said something else to the old ladies. They laughed even louder. Grim jumped up.

  ‘Rory Rooney,’ growled Grim, ‘old ladies are laughing at me.’

  ‘They like us!’

  These people were giving me food instead of grabbing it off me. They were patting me on the head instead of throwing me off the bus. I was having the best time ever.

  ‘They love us.’

  ‘Old ladies are laughing at me, Rory.’

  ‘You said that before.’

  ‘It was happening before. And it’s still happening now. Make it stop. My anger-management issues are coming back.’

  ‘What anger-management issues?’

  ‘Kicking people. I have an issue that makes me kick people when I get angry.’

  ‘I know. I was one of those people.’

  ‘I had to go and see a special doctor about it.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He gave me special anger-management techniques.’

  ‘Great. Why don’t you use them?’

  ‘I always forget.’

  ‘But you could use them now.’

  ‘Great idea.’

  He put his head down and walked off up the road. It turned out his number-one anger-management technique was walking away.

  Mocked by Mere Mortals, the Green Supervillain Swore That He Would Avenge Himself on All Normal-Coloured People!!!

  ‘That was my worst night ever. I’m never going outside again. Not until I’m well.’

  I said, ‘I don’t know what you’re so upset about. People gave us food. They gave us money! We were in China – sort of.’

  ‘Big women dressed as chickens attacked me. I want to go home.’

  It’s always easy to find your way back to a hospital. All you have to do is follow the ambulances. I took Grim around the back to the window cleaners’ cradle.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘This is our shortcut back to base.’

  He didn’t like the cradle either. By the time we were just a little bit above the wheelie bins he was already complaining that we were too high. ‘Get used to it,’ I said. ‘We’ve got eleven storeys left to go.’

  By the time we were level with the roof of the multi-storey car park he had his back to the city and was holding the side of the cradle so hard his knuckles bulged. I said, ‘Turn around – you’re going to miss the view.’

  ‘I can see the view. It’s reflected in the windows.’

  ‘It’s better if you look round. Honestly, don’t be scared.’

  ‘Stop telling me I’m scared when I’m not scared. You’re the one who should be scared.’

  ‘Why should I be scared?’

  ‘I could throw you out of here if I felt like it. You’d be jam on the pavement.’

  Maybe it was because he was threatening to turn me into pavement jam after I had just saved him from being turned into pavement jam.

  Maybe it was because I was still feeling indestructible after falling off a high building without a scratch.

  Whatever the reason, that’s when I knew one thing: I wasn’t scared of Grim any more. Not even a bit.

  It felt as if I’d been cured of a long illness.

  I pulled the oily handle. The motor ground to a halt. The cradle rocked in the air, just a little bit.

  ‘We’ve stopped? Why have we stopped? Why have we stopped?!’ Tommy-Lee was having a panic. A proper eye-popping, hands-waggling panic. ‘We’ve stopped. What are we going to do?’

  ‘I’m just appreciating that river. And the big wheel thing . . .’

  ‘Make it go again. We can’t stay here. We’re in the middle of the air.’

  ‘In a bit.’

  ‘Make it go . . .’ he yelled. He swung around to face me, but when he was facing me he also had to face the view. His eyes bulged in fright. ‘What is it?’

  ‘That? It’s a city.’

  ‘Why’s it so small?’

  ‘It’s not so small. We’re so high up.’

  ‘Get us out of here! PLEASE, get us out of here.’

  Komissky said please to me! I said, ‘Sure.’ There was always the possibility that he might get angry and throw me out of the cradle. ‘No bother.’ I cranked the handle. We wobbled up the side of the building. I watched the city get smaller and smaller. At the top I undid the catch and led Tommy-Lee on to the roof, through the little access door and down the ladder on to the corridor.

  He followed me all the way to the first locked
door. Then I thought, Oh, we’re in trouble now – how are we going to get through? But he just slid past me, typed a code into the keypad and the door opened. I didn’t say anything in case it ruined his concentration or something, but I did wonder if being able to open locks was like being able to slightly teleport – something that only green people could do.

  When he opened the Singing Duck door we both froze. Nurse Rock was at her desk, staring right at the door, her hands on the table in front of her.

  The door clicked shut behind us.

  Even the 200-per-cent brain couldn’t think of anything to say. We walked towards her with our heads down. She never said a word. She never moved a muscle. Even when I said, ‘Sorry.’ Even when Tommy-Lee said, ‘It was him not me. He made me do it.’

  I went a bit closer.

  ‘Is she dead?’

  She gave a loud, horrible, gluey snore. She was asleep! She sleeps sitting up with her eyes wide open.

  We ran back to the Fish Tank and hid under our duvets.

  In the course of one evening I had saved Tommy-Lee’s life at least twice – once from falling off a building, once from a mob of potentially furious chickens. More if you counted the traces of nuts. I’d also foiled a bank robbery. Even though The Bank hadn’t been an actual bank – and even though it was a bank robbery in which I had been one of the bank robbers – that was still a good night’s superhero work.

  I was just about to fall asleep properly when a voice from the other bed said, ‘Grim, though? That’s so harsh.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I won’t do it again, OK?’ Then I added, ‘Tommy-Lee.’

  ‘OK then.’

  And I really did never call him Grim again.

  Britain’s Top-Top-Secret-Secret Scientists Are Summoned to the Top-Secret Government Installation Where the Astounding Broccoli Boys Are Being Held . . .

  When I opened my eyes next morning, Nurse Rock and Dr Brightside were staring in at me through the Fish Tank window. Behind them were about a million other grown-ups in white overalls, all talking and making notes.

  ‘Tommy-Lee . . .’ I hissed.

  ‘He’s awake! Rory’s just opened one eye!’ shrieked Dr Brightside.

  ‘I told you they weren’t in a coma,’ sniffed Nurse Rock. ‘They are practically teenagers. Teenagers sleep until lunchtime. Even the ones that are washed and dressed and sitting in school are mentally asleep until lunchtime.’ She probably didn’t know that the intercom was on.

  ‘Tommy-Lee . . .’ I hissed again.

  ‘No one is looking at me,’ he growled. ‘Not while I’m green.’ He wrapped his duvet tight around him. He looked like a massive floral caterpillar.

  Dr Brightside tapped at the window with her pen and pointed to the intercom, which was in Tommy-Lee Territory.

  ‘No, you don’t . . .’ rumbled the floral caterpillar when I tried to cross his invisible line.

  ‘They want to talk to us.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to them.’

  Now that I’d opened both eyes and counted, I could see there weren’t a full million people. It was closer to seven people. They were all making notes though.

  One of them – a massive bloke with a massive beard – leaned into the intercom and boomed, ‘Is your friend the same shade of green?’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ said Dr Brightside. ‘Exactly the same, even though they were different colours to start with.’

  Massive Beard wanted to see.

  ‘Of course. Rory, tell Tommy-Lee to get out of bed.’

  ‘Not getting out of bed,’ grunted Tommy-Lee.

  Other questions were flying out of the intercom and squawking around the room – Could I lift my top up so that they could see my chest? Was I in pain? Had I experienced any strange hallucinations . . . If Tommy-Lee wasn’t getting out of bed, then he couldn’t stop me from talking to them, could he? I padded across the room. The caterpillar duvet froze.

  I spoke right into the intercom. ‘We don’t feel ill. We feel great. The truth is, we’re not sick. We’re just . . . different.’ When I looked back at them they were mostly holding their ears. Apparently if you speak right into the intercom it makes a weird wailing sound.

  I stepped away from the intercom and said it again. ‘We’re not sick. We’re just different.’

  They all looked at Dr Brightside. She smiled. ‘While it’s true that their health indicators are generally very good, I think we’d all agree that if we were to let them go into the outside world looking like that, people would stare and call them names. They’d suffer enormous psychological damage. We need to protect them.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Massive Beard. ‘Also, in the current medical climate – with the whole country in a State of Emergency about cat flu – the prospect of an epidemic of green children could trigger a highly volatile situation. We need to protect these boys.’

  ‘We don’t need protecting,’ I said. ‘We feel Super.’

  ‘Such a positive outlook,’ said Dr Brightside. ‘It’s heartbreaking.’

  ‘Dr Brightside is looking after you very well,’ said Massive Beard.

  ‘No. I don’t mean super as in good. I mean super as in Super. Like Superheroes. We feel different.’

  The caterpillar duvet shuffled.

  The doctors stopped making notes.

  They stared at me through the window. It made the Fish Tank feel less like a fish tank and more like a television set. And I was the programme.

  ‘Think about it – who else in history has ever turned green?’ They all looked blank. I listed the only other green people in history as told to me by my dad. ‘The Incredible Hulk, Swamp Thing, the Green Hornet and the Green Goblin. What did all these people have in common?’

  ‘They’re all fictitious?’ said Dr Brightside.

  ‘But besides that?’

  They still looked blank.

  ‘They’re all Super. With superpowers.’

  ‘Actually,’ interrupted Dr Brightside, ‘the Green Goblin is a Supervillain, not a Superhero.’

  ‘But he’s got superpowers. That’s my point.’

  ‘I believe I’m right in saying,’ said Massive Beard, ‘that he was originally a billionaire chemist who created a serum to turn himself into an evil genius.’

  Why were they talking about the Green Goblin?! I was talking about US!! They were missing the whole point. ‘The whole point,’ I said, ‘is he was green. He was green and he had superpowers. OK? If you turn green, there’s only one possible diagnosis – and that’s Super.’

  It went very quiet inside the Fish Tank all of a sudden. Dr Brightside had muted the intercom. I could see her discussing what I’d said with all the other doctors. I couldn’t hear their voices. But I could see that Massive Beard was saying, ‘. . . for all we know, these delusions of grandeur could be a symptom.’

  ‘No, Dr Big Beard, we don’t have any delusions of grandeur. We ARE grand!’

  ‘How does he know I said that?’ said Massive Beard. ‘Can he hear through walls?!’

  ‘That’s exactly my point. My brain has had an upgrade. I notice all kinds of things I never noticed before. I can hear things, smell things. I could tell what you were saying just by looking at your face.’

  ‘Lip-reading is not a superpower,’ growled Nurse Rock.

  ‘It is if you don’t actually know how to lip-read,’ I said. ‘Also I slightly teleported.’

  ‘You slightly teleported?’ asked Dr Brightside.

  ‘I don’t want to go into details –’ I didn’t want to tell them about walking around London at night in pyjamas in case they decided it was bad for us and tried to stop us – ‘but I definitely teleported a short distance.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Massive Beard. ‘Is there anything we can do to help you in your work?’

  I thought about asking for gadgets, or for some sort of training, or maybe a proper outfit.

  ‘How are you for capes and masks?’ said one of the doctors at the back. ‘Have you got a n
ame or a logo?’

  Then they all started suggesting names.

  ‘What about Broccoli Boy?’

  ‘The Broccoli Kid?’

  ‘The Mean Green Team?’

  ‘Lettuce Man?’

  ‘The Chameleons. Because you changed colour.’

  ‘Captain Chronic, because it’s a chronic condition.’

  ‘Bogeyboy . . . because you’re the same colour as bogeys.’

  ‘The Bogeyman. The Bogeyman is good.’

  ‘Then you can say you’ve been picked for your mission!’

  Everyone laughed. While they were laughing, Tommy-Lee rolled off his bed and gave the intercom one of his bad looks. ‘They’re laughing at us,’ he growled. ‘I hate that.’ Through the window, grown-up faces in white coats were talking, shouting, nudging each other and most of all laughing. The laughing seemed louder now that you couldn’t hear it. ‘Right,’ he growled. ‘You’ll pay for this.’ He thumped the intercom. ‘You’re all laughing,’ he roared, ‘but it’s really true. Rory CAN teleport. Look. He does it like this.’ The doctors looked round.

  Tommy-Lee picked me up and flung me across the room.

  ‘See?’

  I smacked into the wall.

  ‘Interesting,’ said one of the voices. ‘Do you think the green pigmentation has in some way made this boy more aggressive?’

  ‘No!’ I yelled. ‘He was always like this! This is exactly my point!’ Tommy-Lee hoisted me back into the air. ‘He’s behaving exactly the same as he did before he went green. Going green hasn’t affected his health at all.’ He proved my point by throwing me clear across the room on to my bed.