by Lee Bacon
“I could get used to this!”
Miranda looked like she’d won the lottery. On top of the skills she’d shown with time bombs and dodgeballs, she’d impressed everyone during sixth-period Basics of Antigravity.
The same couldn’t be said for me and Milton. He’d spent most of the class upside down, and I was still dizzy from head-butting the ceiling.
“Anyone up for some Ping-Pong?” Sophie asked as we exited the cafeteria.
“Sure!” Miranda said.
Milton sized up the competition: one person who could smash the ball into oblivion and another who could predict where Milton would hit his shot before he did.
“All right, but no superpowers.” He glanced at Sophie. “If you start glowing, I quit.” He turned to Miranda. “And if you’re a Senser, you have to play with … uh … with your eyes closed.”
“Fine with me,” Sophie said.
“Same here.” Miranda glanced my way. “How about you?”
“I’ll pass,” I said.
“You sure?”
I nodded. My last experience with Ping-Pong had ended with a flaming paddle and lots of apologies.
“I think I’ll do a little looking around,” I said.
“Suit yourself.”
The others rushed off toward the rec room. I went the other way. Past windows that looked out on the dark sea. Outside, sheets of rain pounded the inky-black water. At the end of the hall was a trophy case. I paused long enough to scan the gleaming golden awards. First Place: Hover Scooter Relay … Sixteenth Annual Zombie Roundup Award … National Champion: 50,000-Yard Dash.
My footsteps echoed up the stairway. At the top was the tall wooden door that led into the Alumni Hall, followed by a display of antique superhero uniforms. The sounds of other students had faded. I was completely alone in the dark hallway.
I walked past a few empty classrooms and then came to a tall, framed portrait of a stern-looking man with a headful of silver hair and a matching mustache. The golden nameplate at the bottom of the frame read HERMAN ALABASTER, FOUNDER AND FIRST HEADMASTER OF ALABASTER ACADEMY.
So this was the ghost everyone was talking about. Looking at the painting, I remembered what the others had said in the cafeteria yesterday. That you could sometimes hear footsteps through the stone walls. That Herman Alabaster emerged from his painting in the middle of the night to roam the hallways.
I could see why the guy might spook people. Herman Alabaster’s features looked as craggy and gray as the island that was named after him.
Then I heard a noise. A faint shuffle from somewhere behind the painting. I looked both ways, but there was nobody around. The noise grew louder. Closer.
I staggered backward a step. Herman Alabaster’s gray eyes seemed to follow me.
Suddenly, my palms were covered in sweat.
A draft blew through the hallway, sending a chill down my neck and raising goose bumps along my arms. Then the frame started to rattle and shake.
All my curiosity turned to paranoia. Before I could give it a second thought I spun around and took off running. The hallway was a gray blur. My heartbeat and footsteps pounded in my ears.
But as soon as I rounded the corner, my fear began to melt away and I heard a voice in the corner of my brain saying, There’s no such thing as ghosts. The shuffle you heard behind the wall was the echoing footsteps of students somewhere else in the school. And the rattling frame? Just the wind.
I slowed to a walk. Glancing around, I was glad that at least nobody had seen me running away from a painting of some old dude.
At the other end of the stairway, I came to a stop by a wall of black-and-white photographs showing students from years past. Sixth-grade class pictures. The first was more than a hundred years old. A scratchy black-and-white image of boys in suits and ties and girls in old-fashioned dresses, all posed with severe expressions, as if they knew that by the time I looked at their picture, they’d all be dead.
As my eyes moved from one framed class to the next, the photos became more recent. Seventy years ago. Sixty-five. Fifty. I paused in front of one from thirty years ago. The clothes weren’t as stuffy and the students didn’t look quite so uptight. Many of them were smiling—especially a tall blond boy in the center. When I leaned in a little closer, I saw that he was floating a few inches off the ground.
But it was a couple of other kids who really grabbed my attention. A boy and a girl perched at the far edge of the crowd, as if they couldn’t wait to get away from the group. The girl had long, dark hair and looked like she was practicing her supervillainous scowl for the camera. Beside her was a skinny kid with thick glasses. His arms were crossed, and he was staring sourly at the ground.
I didn’t need to scan the fine-print list of names at the bottom of the photo to know.… These were my parents.
It was strange to think that Mom and Dad had ever been my age, but there they were. I wondered what they’d been like back then, and why they never talked about Alabaster Academy.
“Taking a trip through time, I see!”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Especially when I spun around and saw the ghost of Herman Alabaster looming over me.
Okay, maybe I was still a little freaked out. Because an instant later, I realized it wasn’t a ghost after all. It was Principal Alabaster. With his silver hair and gray eyes, he looked a lot like the painting of his great-greatgrandfather.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Th-that’s okay,” I said. “It’s just—for a second, I thought you were … someone else.”
“I noticed you looking over our old class photos.” Principal Alabaster leaned in, squinting at the photograph. “Aha. So that’s why you’re so interested!”
His remark set off alarm bells in my mind. Had he seen the way I was looking at my parents? What if he made the connection between me and the Dread Duo? Nobody was supposed to know my real identity. Not even Principal Alabaster. We’d been at the school for two days. What if I’d already blown my cover?
“I wasn’t looking at anybody,” I mumbled. “I swear.”
The principal gave me a funny look. “Captain Justice. Didn’t you recognize him? He’s front and center.”
It took me another second to figure out what he was talking about. Then my vision snagged on the kid I’d first noticed. The blond boy, floating in the front row …
Captain Justice.
It was easy to see how he would grow up to become a world-famous superhero. Tall, good-looking, with a beaming smile. Even in the sixth grade, he was obviously the center of attention.
“Captain Justice has been very generous to this school over the years,” said Principal Alabaster. “Of course, he’s just one of many distinguished alumni from this class. There’s also …” He squinted again. “Hmm, unfortunately, I can’t see much without my glasses. Just one moment …”
Principal Alabaster reached out with one hand, pinching his forefinger and thumb together. His silver eyebrows furrowed with concentration.
Then he pulled his fingers apart.
What happened next is tough to describe. It was sort of like he … unzipped the universe. As his fingertips spread, a gash seemed to open in the air in front of him. Once his finger and thumb were as far apart as they would go, Alabaster turned his hand sideways and spread the two edges of the weird portal thingy the way you might open an envelope.
My jaw dropped. The opening was like a window into someplace completely different. Through the sliver, I could see a dark mahogany desk, a pile of books, a lamp. An office. Just floating there, smack in the middle of the hall.
Principal Alabaster did all this with remarkable ease. Like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. No big deal—just slashing open a paranormal hole in space. I’ll be with you in a sec.
The principal reached into the portal, so that his arm was in one place and the rest of him was in another. He clicked on the lamp and fumbled around the desk until he found what he was loo
king for—a pair of eyeglasses.
He removed his arm and placed the glasses on his nose. He positioned both hands at the edges of the opening. When he brought his hands together, the portal vanished. The opening into his office was gone.
“As I was saying …” The principal blinked behind his glasses, examining the photo. “This was quite a remarkable class. A number of superheroes and supervillains who would go on to experience fame and infamy. The future U.S. Secretary of Mutant Affairs. A couple of—”
“Uh … Principal Alabaster,” I interrupted. “How’d you do that?”
The principal tilted his head. “Do what?”
“Create an opening in space. Grab your glasses off your desk when you’re nowhere near your office. That kind of thing.”
“Ah yes. I can see how that might be a little perplexing to those unfamiliar with IGF.”
“IGF?”
“Interspatial gateway fabrication. My power. If I focus my mind on a single location, I’m able to generate a ‘door’ ”—he put the word in air quotes—“that opens directly onto that location. In other words, a ‘shortcut’ ”—more air quotes—“from one place to another.”
“Whoa.” I tried to wrap my brain around what he’d just told me. “Can you step through the … uh … the door?”
Principal Alabaster nodded. “It definitely cuts down on travel time.”
“That’s incredible! You can go anywhere you want!”
“Not quite anywhere. The location must be anchored in my mind. IGF works only if I have a strong connection with the place. That means I can’t just pop over to Tokyo for sushi unless I’ve spent a significant amount of time there. Which I haven’t.”
All of a sudden, an idea occurred to me.
“Would it be possible …” I hesitated. “I mean—would you let me go through the gateway?”
The principal stroked his silver beard, considering. “And where would you go?”
I gave this some thought. “How about … a pyramid in Egypt?”
“Never been there.”
“A movie premiere? Red carpet?”
The principal shook his head.
“The Eiffel Tower?”
“Nope. However, I just thought of the perfect place. A location where I spent countless hours when I was your age.”
“Where?”
“The rec room.”
My shoulders drooped. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to skip through space, to get transported across the globe in the blink of an eye—and I was going … upstairs? I could walk there in about the same amount of time!
“I know it’s not quite what you had in mind,” the principal said, a note of apology in his voice. “But unfortunately, we can’t have you zapping to the other end of the earth right before curfew.”
My disappointment faded as soon as Alabaster created the portal—an opening in space that was just big enough for me to step through. Maybe it wasn’t very far, but it was still pretty amazing. The rec room glowed on the other side of the portal. Students lounged in beanbag chairs, played video games, listened to headphones. And in the center of it all were Milton and Miranda, caught up in a game of Ping-Pong. It looked like Milton was losing, despite the fact that Miranda was blindfolded.
A dozen different conversations trickled through the opening. The entire room seemed oblivious.
I glanced sideways at Principal Alabaster and he gave me a reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. I wasn’t sure what I expected. An electric shock? A sudden gravitational shift? But it turns out the feeling you get when you pass through an interspatial gateway is … nothing.
It feels just like walking through an open door.
Milton was the first to notice me. He was gearing up for a serve when his eyes flicked in my direction.
“BWAAAGH!” The paddle flew out of his hand and he tumbled butt-first onto the ground. He pointed up at me with a trembling finger. “You just—? But how—? Where’d you come from?”
Miranda pulled off her blindfold and gasped. On the other side of the table, Sophie was staring my way with surprise.
“Hey, guys.” I picked Milton’s paddle up off the floor. “Drop something?”
After a few days at Alabaster, I was starting to get used to the place. I’d even learned to tie a tie. Although I still hadn’t mentioned that to Sophie. I admit, I sort of liked her tying it for me every morning.
On Thursday, Milton and I arrived at Introduction to High-Grade Weaponry just as the bell rang. Before we even reached our lab station, Dr. Fleming announced, “Please follow me, class. I have something extremely dangerous to show you.”
Then he stepped out the door and into the hallway.
I glanced at Sophie and Miranda, wondering if they had any clue what was going on. They just shrugged. I joined the rest of the class and trailed Dr. Fleming through the empty hallway. When he reached a door marked NOT AN EXIT, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Didn’t he say he has something dangerous to show us?” Sophie asked.
I nodded. “What do you think it is?”
“Another bomb?” Milton guessed.
“It’s not that.” Miranda squinted. “It’s something else. Something with a … a really big nose.”
“How is that dangerous?” Milton asked. “What’s it gonna do? Sneeze on us?”
We followed the others through the door and into a twisting stairwell. Thirty pairs of stomping feet echoed in the cramped space as we rose higher and higher. After about twelve floors, we entered a room with walls made of glass. In the center of the room was the biggest lightbulb I’d ever seen. The thing was about twice my height. It rotated slowly, its beam directed through the glass walls so that it pierced the fog outside.
We were in the lighthouse tower. I’d seen it from the ferry on the day we arrived, though at the time it hadn’t looked nearly so big.
“You may want to avert your eyes as the light passes by,” Dr. Fleming warned us. “Otherwise you’ll be seeing stars for the next week.”
I took his advice. As the massive light swiveled in my direction, I turned the other way and let it pass over me.
“Right this way,” Dr. Fleming said. Opening my eyes again, I saw him crossing the room toward a ladder. “Daisy’s right up here.”
I glanced at the others. “Daisy?”
Dr. Fleming was taking us to see something extremely dangerous … that had a really big nose … and was named Daisy.
Yeah, that made a lot of sense.
Dr. Fleming climbed the ladder and disappeared through a hatch in the ceiling. The rest of us followed one by one.
As I popped my head through the opening, I was slammed by a rush of wind. Bracing myself, I climbed the rest of the way. We were on the rooftop. My tie flapped in the wind. Beyond the school, the gray ocean stretched out on all sides.
It was the first time I’d been outside since we arrived. Dark clouds loomed overhead. A heavy mist clung to the rooftop. Far below, waves crashed against jagged rocks. Not the kind of weather that makes you want to go out and toss around a football.
SQUAWK!
I jumped at the hideous sound. Whirling, I saw something that sent my heart into my throat.
A metal bird the size of a fighter jet was descending on us.
Its enormous wings pounded the air as its silver webbed feet slapped down onto the rooftop just a few feet from where I was standing. I staggered backward, staring up at the thing. It looked like … like …
“A duck,” Milton murmured, gaping up at the bird in wide-eyed amazement. “A humongous robotic duck.”
He was right. The metallic bird was shiny green with matching wings that clicked into place at its sides as it came to rest on the rooftop. Between its glowing eyes was a huge silver bill that opened and closed on smooth hinges.
I glanced at Miranda. “So it has a huge nose, huh?”
“Nose, beak …,” Miranda said. “Same difference.”
Dr. Fleming appr
oached the robotic duck, speaking loudly to be heard above the wind. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Daisy!”
“Gather round, class,” Dr. Fleming said. “She won’t bite … unless I command her to.”
In one hand he was holding what looked like a black game controller. When Dr. Fleming punched a button on it, the massive bird opened its bill and let out a skull-rattling QUACK!
“People tend to forget what a magnificent creature the duck is,” Dr. Fleming said over the rushing wind. “It is extremely versatile, able to go from land to air to water with complete ease. It takes flight to hunt insects and dives beneath the waves to eat fish. That’s why I used the duck as a model for Daisy.”
Dr. Fleming gazed admiringly at the giant robot.
“I took the duck’s natural advantages and made a few modifications to design the ideal multifunctional airborne-aquatic-submergible machine. Daisy represents the top of the line in high-grade weaponry.”
I was having trouble believing that Daisy was some kind of superweapon. If she’d been a giant robotic eagle or a hawk, then maybe I could see it. But a duck? Standing there on the rooftop, Daisy looked like a much bigger version of something you’d see paddling around a pond or begging for scraps of bread—not exactly the most threatening sight.
At least, that was what I thought before seeing Daisy in action.
Dr. Fleming fiddled with the controller. Suddenly, Daisy began to flap her massive wings. With another booming QUACK! she launched into the air. Daisy sliced through the sky with remarkable speed, maneuvering gracefully around the stone walls of Alabaster. Afterward, the duck glided out over the ocean and plunged into the water.
Just as I was starting to wonder whether she would ever come back up, Daisy popped above the waves, bobbing on the surface with a huge fish dangling from her bill. Gulping down the fish, the robot skimmed across the water like a motorboat before taking flight again. She was far out over the ocean when Dr. Fleming punched a button on the controller and a supersized egg dropped from the duck’s metal tail feathers. The egg tumbled a hundred feet and exploded like the world’s biggest grenade when it hit the water.