Finch stood in front of the mirror on his closet door and gazed at himself in the cape. He didn’t get it. How could scissors have destroyed its power if only the ties had been cut? The same thing had happened a thousand years before at the merchant’s. Yet its voice had returned when the mother who’d made it into a cape for her son had sewed on its ties. Why couldn’t it speak now that his dad had stitched them back on? Something else had to be wrong.
An idea came to him. He left a note for his mom and Mimi in case one of them got home first. It said, Gone Biking. Then he tied the cape tightly around his neck and went out the door. “I think you’re going to enjoy this. It will feel a little like flying,” he said as he wheeled his bicycle out of the garage.
If his mother had been aware of what he was doing, Finch knew she would not have approved. A few times she’d allowed him to ride into town with the guys—but never alone.
“I’m not alone—the Thinking Cape is with me,” Finch argued in his head as he strapped on his bike helmet. But he wasn’t sure it was true anymore.
As he pedaled past Raj’s house, he slowed down. Calm, thoughtful Raj could be counted on for moral support. It would be nice to have him riding alongside. But Finch kept on going. He needed to do this himself. Since school had begun he had depended on the Thinking Cape. Now it was depending on him.
The traffic was heavier in town, so he walked his bike on the sidewalk. People were looking at him—a big boy in a superhero cape. Underneath his bike helmet, he felt his ears getting hot. He knew when he took it off he was going to look as if he had a blinking light on either side of his head. But he was determined to go through with his plan, no matter how embarrassing things got. He looked straight ahead and kept on going until he reached the video store.
“Do you have any movies about Persia or Arabia?” he asked the teenager at the counter. “Something that has a desert and camels?”
The guy jerked a thumb. “Try Aladdin. The kiddie section is over there.”
Finch clenched his jaw. “I want something for adults.”
“Lawrence of Arabia. Classics. Aisle three.”
“Okay,” Finch muttered. He was glad to disappear down the long, empty aisle. He took his time looking at titles before he pulled Lawrence off the shelf. The case cover had a picture of a guy dressed in flowing white robes sitting on a camel. He read the synopsis on the back. The story had something to do with the Arabs fighting the Turks for freedom. It sounded complicated, but he didn’t really care about the plot. If the Thinking Cape was suffering from extreme homesickness, seeing its old homeland might wake it up. At least it was worth a try.
“You’re in for a great surprise,” he murmured as he approached the counter again.
“What’d you say?” the teenager asked.
“Nothing.”
The door to the shop opened. Chloe, Zoe, and Kayla walked in. They stared at Finch.
“You get that cape for Halloween?” Kayla asked finally.
Finch took a deep bow. “Secret Superhero Fin Mundy at your service,” he said.
The girls giggled.
“No, really. Are you going to a costume party?” Zoe asked.
“This isn’t a costume. I just like wearing it. A thousand years ago lots of important guys wore capes.”
Kayla pursed her lips. “Oh yeah?”
“I think George Washington wore one when he crossed the Delaware River. I saw a painting of it in the museum,” Chloe said. She smiled at Finch.
“That wasn’t a superhero cape,” Kayla said.
The guy behind the counter handed Finch his change and a plastic bag with the DVD.
“What did you rent?” Chloe asked.
Finch slipped Lawrence of Arabia out of the bag. “I’m watching it with a friend of mine who used to live in the desert.”
“Who?”
“Er, he’s called T.C. You don’t know him.” Finch began backing toward the door. “Well, see you in school on Monday.” He gave a last quick bow. It seemed to be becoming a habit.
Outside, Finch hung the bag on a handlebar and put his helmet back on.
“Hey, look who’s here, Buddy—Towelman. But what happened to the sign I painted on his cape? I bet his lawyer mommy washed it off.”
“Yeah. She must have sewed the strings back on, too.”
It was finally coming true, Finch thought. His worst nightmare. Yet he felt strangely calm. He would wear the Thinking Cape in front of a stadium full of bullies if that would bring it back to life.
“I bet you and your friends thought you were really funny, giving me that bag of rubber vomit,” Thorn said. “Don’t think because Mr. Burns actually liked the stuff, you’re getting away with it.”
Bud blew a big bubble with his gum and popped it. “Yeah, you’re busted now, Towelman.”
Finch kept quiet. He nudged up his kickstand and got on his bike. Just as he was about to push off, a hand grabbed the back of the Thinking Cape. “Hey! I’m talking to you.”
“Let go,” Finch said in a quiet voice.
“Make me.” The hand yanked the cape harder. “It’s time to put up or shut up. Let’s see your gift.”
Finch reset his kickstand and got off the bike. “No,” he said.
Thorn cocked his head. “No? Then hand over the cape.”
“No,” Finch said again. He was supposed to solve problems by thinking, not fighting—except he didn’t have any idea how. Still, he felt determined not to break the Oath. In a way, it was all that was left of the Thinking Cape.
The door to the video store opened. Chloe, Zoe, and Kayla appeared on the sidewalk.
“Look—I caught a superhero,” Thorn told them. He gave the cape another hard yank.
Finch grabbed his neck as the ties cut into his throat.
“Stop that!” Chloe demanded.
“Who’s going to make me? Not Finch. He’s just a baby in a super-blankie.” Suddenly Thorn grinned. He pulled Finch closer. “Say it! Say you’re a baby in a super-blankie.”
Finch looked at the girls. They were all staring at him with their big, soft eyes. He felt as if two hands were wringing out his gut. “I’m a baby in a super-blankie,” he murmured.
“Louder!”
“I’M A BABY IN A SUPER-BLANKIE!” Finch shouted. He felt a tear drip down his face.
Thorn looked away. “Okay, you can go now,” he muttered as he opened his fist.
Bud spit his gum into his palm. “Yeah, move it—and take this with you.” He reached out to slap the sticky wad onto the cape.
“No!” With superhuman speed, Finch’s arm shot out and shoved him away. Bud’s eyes and mouth were wide with surprise as he was propelled backward. Thorn was so busy gaping he didn’t get out of the way fast enough. BAM! Bud crashed into him. Together the dung beetle and the scorpion toppled onto the pavement.
As Finch rode off on his bike, he could hear the girls clapping.
29
ONE LAST TRY
Mimi was already home when Finch came in the door. “You wore that thing outside?” she squeaked.
Finch shrugged. “The yellow lightning bolts really stand out in traffic.”
“In traffic? Where’d you go?”
Finch held up the plastic bag.
“The video store! Mom’s going to be furious when she hears you rode your bike into town.”
“Not if you don’t tell her.” Finch put his hands together. “Please.”
“I’ll think about it.” Mimi snatched the note off the table and crumpled it up. “All of your friends called you. And Elliott called twice. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Finch filled a glass with water and emptied it in three gulps. “Do you want to watch the movie with me?”
Mimi looked in the bag. “Lawrence of Arabia? No thanks. Anyway, Kelly is coming over. We’ve got a school project to do.” She scooped up Rosie and headed toward her room.
It was just what Finch had been counting on. When he heard her door click shut, he pu
t on the DVD and settled on the living-room floor. Cubby climbed up on his shoulder and nuzzled his ear.
Lawrence of Arabia was a sad movie. Tons of soldiers died. So did tons of camels.
“Do you recognize any of these places?” Finch asked the cape after Lawrence had crossed miles of desert. “Does the sand really look that wavy? Did you ever see one of those scorpions?”
But the Thinking Cape was as silent as the drapes on the window.
“I don’t think you’re enjoying this. I’m not either. Personally, I’m sick of fighting,” Fin said. As if he agreed, Cubby climbed down from his shoulder and skittered away. Finch shut off the DVD player and trudged to his room. Nothing was working. He didn’t know what else to do.
He sank down on his bed—and sat on a book. From under the blanket he pulled out Tales from the Arabian Nights. He’d forgotten to return it to the library. He was still the same old Fin.
“You want to hear a story?” he asked the cape. He didn’t wait for it to answer. “Mimi, I’ll be out in the yard,” he yelled.
From up on the lookout platform, Fin gazed at the sky. Thick gray clouds were rolling in fast. A cold breeze blew through the treetops. He pulled the cape tighter around him and opened the book. “The Second Voyage of Sinbad the Sailor,” he began.
This time, ferocious, monkeylike pirates attacked Sinbad’s ship. They left him and his crew on a strange island. “At least they didn’t kill us,” Sinbad said as the monkey-pirates sailed away.
Finch groaned. He knew more trouble was coming. Sinbad led the crew on an exploration of the island. They didn’t meet any people. But they did find the tallest gates they’d ever seen. Through the gates stood a vast white palace. “Let us go in and see what kind of people live there,” Sinbad suggested.
Finch groaned again. He could already guess what kind of people lived there. Bad ones.
As soon as Sinbad and his men entered the court-yard, the gates locked behind them. They went up to the palace door and knocked until their knuckles were bruised. No one answered. The hungry, exhausted sailors picked coconuts for dinner and fell asleep on the open ground.
In the middle of the night, the palace doors creaked open. Out stomped a giant—a cannibal giant. He was hungry, too—but not for coconuts. He began munching down sailors as fast as if they were French fries.
Fin stopped reading. “I bet you and your old master visited this island, Cape. And I bet you weren’t dumb enough to sleep out in the open, either. You probably hid until you saw who lived in the palace. Then you figured out how to steal the giant’s treasure and escape with it. Right, Cape?”
The leaves whispered. The tree branches creaked. The Thinking Cape was silent.
Fin closed the book. It was time to face it—all he had around his shoulders now was some old green cloth. The Thinking Cape was gone for good. He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned his forehead against them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job taking care of you,” he murmured. “I warned you, didn’t I? I told you I’d let you down. You should have let me give you away to someone more responsible. You shouldn’t have trusted me.”
Nay. It is you who should not have trusted me.
Underneath the cape, Fin’s shoulders trembled. “Cape?”
I am here. But I am not worthy enough to call you Master.
“Why? What do you mean?”
I never visited the Valley of Diamonds. I never outwitted the jinni of the copper bottle.
“So you exaggerated. That’s okay. I do it too sometimes.”
I wish that were all, but there is more.
“You can tell me,” Finch whispered. “I’ll understand.”
You may find the truth unforgivable.
“I’ve got to know, anyway.”
Finch felt a flutter across his back as if the cape were sighing. For a moment, it was silent again. Then it began its final story.
30
THE CAPE’S SECRET
From the day you first called me the Thinking Cape, almost everything I have spoken is a lie. I am not a cape at all. Though my cotton was grown in the cape makers’ secret field, I was made into a towel for the weavers to dry their hands on when they washed before the midday meal.
“What? You’re only a towel!” Finch was stunned—and disappointed. But most of all he felt angry. The cape, or towel, or whatever it was, had fooled him. It had lied.
I am sorry, but it is true. Day after day, I hung beside the washbasin in a corner of the workroom and observed great capes come to life. Some could fly, and some could make themselves and their wearers invisible. Others could make a person as large as a house, or as tiny as a mouse. There were capes that could control the weather, and a few that could go time-traveling. But the ones I most admired were the Thinking Capes. They were wise and clever. Thinking all day seemed to make them content. I longed to be one of them.
“You can think,” Finch said. He couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice. “You made up all those stories.”
By listening to spells that were meant for the others, I learned whatever I could. But it was stolen knowledge. Not one of the weavers suspected I was absorbing anything but the water from his hands. Then the day came when the cape makers’ magic field would no longer grow a single cotton plant. No one knew why, not even the Thinking Capes. Without the special cloth, the cape makers’ shop was forced to close. One of the weavers took me home, where I could still be useful, and as you see, magic cotton never wears out. Generation after generation used me as a towel until one day I was passed to the family with whom you found me.
“What about the merchant who cut off your golden strings? I guess you made that up, too?” Finch murmured. Rain had begun to fall. It dripped off the leaves and onto his hair and skin, but he didn’t even notice.
I am sorry to say I invented it all. I never belonged to a merchant. I never advised anyone of anything. I never had strings until the woman who had the garage sale decided to make me into a costume for her son. After that child rejected me, I thought I was finished. I wasn’t even a towel any longer. I was totally useless. Then you came along.
Fin could still recall the exact moment he’d spotted the cape on a table among old hats, umbrellas, and ladies’ purses. It had looked as real as if a superhero had just taken it off. He’d never felt so desperate to have something before. “I told my mom you were the only thing I wanted for my birthday,” he said.
I remember, Master. You played with me as if I were truly a magic cape. It made me think, Why not? So I dared to try and change my fate. But I knew I would have to be patient—to wait for the right time. My opportunity finally came when you and your friends decided to be superheroes. I felt you might accept me—and you did. The last few weeks have been the happiest time of my existence.
Finch ran a hand through his wet hair. He suddenly felt chilled. “Then why did you stop talking to me after Bud cut off your strings?” he murmured.
You gave me a chance to be something important. You believed in me. But I was not very good at thinking. I was not like the wise capes I had known. I grew afraid my advice would put you in danger. That is why I thought it would be best if I disappeared. I have been trying to remember the spell that would put me to sleep forever.
“You shouldn’t have given up like that!” Finch exclaimed over the noisy patter of rain on leaves. “It isn’t right! You should’ve kept trying.” But instead of anger, he felt something else inside. It was as if a soft green thread connecting his heart to the cape were being tugged.
Finch rubbed an arm across his face. When he looked up, he was smiling a little. “I didn’t think your advice was so bad. I’m not really a superhero, either.”
On the contrary, Master, look what you have accomplished. Your sister is happier now. Your teacher is making a lot of new friends. You saved the hermit crabs.
“But I didn’t have to be a superhero to do those things,” Fin objected.
Perchance not. But you also sav
ed me. That required more than courage and determination—it needed an extraordinary heart.
As if it agreed, Fin’s heart beat a little quicker. “But I’m still a beginner. We all are,” he said firmly. He gazed at the sky. The rain shower was passing already. “Look, the guys and I are learning how to be superheroes. And you’re like a thinking-cape-in-training. But together we’re a great team. That’s the real secret to the Society of Secret Superheroes.”
Indeed it is.
“Then you’ll keep thinking?”
Gladly.
With the end of the cape, Finch dabbed the rain from the plastic covering on Tales from the Arabian Nights. He was looking forward to finishing “The Second Voyage of Sinbad the Sailor” later. For now, though, there was something he needed to do right away.
“Come on,” he said as he wrapped his arms around the tree trunk. “We’ve got to climb down and call the guys. It’s time to start thinking about our next mission.”
Yes, Master Finch!
The Society of Super Secret Heroes Page 13