James Munkers

by Lindsey Little

  At breakfast they both sit opposite me, watching my every move.

  ‘He still likes peanut butter on his toast,’ Claire observes to Peter.

  ‘Yeah, but I think he put more sugar in his coffee than normal.’ They look worriedly at each other.

  ‘What am I, a science experiment?’ I snap. ‘Back it off.’

  ‘Irritable,’ Claire notes. ‘Do you think it’s a side effect of the you-know-what?’

  ‘It’s a side effect of being irritated,’ I mutter, taking my plate to the kitchen. ‘I’m walking to school.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ Claire says, jumping up and grabbing her bag.

  ‘You know what, I think I’ll walk with you,’ Peter says. He puts his coat on, then they each grab one of my arms and march me out the door into the frosty morning.

  ‘Okay, what are you doing?’ I ask as they flank me down the road. Garth is a little way ahead of us, walking along with one of his ghastly friends. They appear to be attacking invisible zombies with sticks. Peter and Claire slow me down so we’re out of earshot.

  ‘We just want to talk to you,’ Peter says.

  ‘Oh, goodie. Because we didn’t do that for half the night.’

  ‘Well, it’s had a chance to sink in now,’ he says. ‘James, I’m not sure you should do this.’

  ‘What, save the world?’ I ask. ‘I think there might be a teensy bit of fallout if I don’t.’

  ‘But surely there are other people who can do it,’ he says, trying to look me in the eye and walk straight at the same time. ‘Seriously, Jim, this sounds dangerous.’

  ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘You said someone threw a knife at your head,’ Claire says.

  ‘Well… yeah, okay, they did. But then we stabbed him to death and threw him in a furnace.’

  They don’t look reassured.

  ‘Listen, you’re looking at this all wrong,’ I say. ‘I know it’s scary, thinking of all these bad guys coming after me with knives and magic and whatnot, but what you have to keep in mind is that I’m equipped to deal with this now.’ I stop walking so I can face them. ‘You’ve got to stop thinking of me as your little brother, and start thinking of me as a superhero.’

  They look at each other and burst out laughing.

  I cross my arms and glare at them. ‘What’s so bloody funny?’

  ‘Couldn’t they find any fully-grown superheroes?’ Peter asks, poking me in the ribs with his elbow. Then he catches sight of Garth threatening a monster disguised as a robin, and bursts out laughing again. ‘It must be genetic.’

  ‘He can be your sidekick,’ Claire suggests. ‘We can knit you matching leotards to wear when you fight crime.’

  She and Peter fall about giggling. I walk on in a dignified manner and pretend I don’t know them. They have to run to catch up.

  We reach the school gates, and Jem comes jogging up to us. He looks worried.

  ‘What’s up?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, realising why he’s being evasive, ‘it’s okay, they know. I got busted last night.’

  ‘Oh, right. Does your whole family know now?’

  ‘Be serious. It’s just these two.’

  ‘So, are you a superhero as well?’ Peter asks politely.

  ‘Um, no, not really. I’m more of a sidekick.’

  Images of knitted leotards must go floating through their minds, because they both break out in sniggers.

  ‘Just ignore them,’ I say as Jem looks confused. ‘They’re still a little shell-shocked. So what’s wrong?’

  ‘Pippa’s worried about Will,’ Jem says. ‘He’s gone missing.’

  I frown. ‘What do you mean, missing?’

  ‘Just the usual kind of missing. You know, he’s not around, nobody can find him, that sort of thing. He’s a traditionalist.’

  ‘Funny. You’re a funny boy.’ I scan the schoolyard, and spy Pippa coming towards us with less than her usual grace.

  ‘Who’s Will?’ Claire asks.

  ‘The drug dealer with the car,’ I say absently.

  ‘Oh.’

  Pippa reaches us, looking worried. ‘Have you seen him?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not since he stormed out last night. Have you tried Kit?’

  She gives Claire and Peter a quick glance. ‘Yes, but her, ah, mobile was switched off.’

  ‘No, I meant asking her with your brain.’

  She looks pointedly at Peter and Claire, and then back to me.

  ‘Oh, they know.’ I turn to them. ‘Pippa’s a big freak too,’ I explain.

  ‘James!’ Peter says.

  ‘Well, she is.’

  ‘We’ll discuss the meaning of “secret identity” later,’ Pippa says. ‘Kit doesn’t know where he is either, which is why I’m so worried. She can usually sense him.’

  ‘A Guardian sensing a Hoarder?’ I ask. ‘I didn’t think you could do that.’

  ‘Kit and Will are different,’ Pippa says. ‘The only way the Upper Guardians would accept his help was if she took responsibility for him, so he was bound to her. He can’t sense her, but she can sense him. The only time she can’t is when he’s unconscious.’

  Jem and I both look worried at this. ‘You think someone’s grabbed him?’ I ask.

  ‘Or killed him?’

  ‘Or drugged him and he’s lying unconscious in a ditch somewhere?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Pippa says repressively. Then she sighs and goes back to looking worried. ‘I’m going to have to go into town and see if I can pick up his trace.’

  ‘We’ll come,’ Jem and I say simultaneously.

  ‘No you won’t,’ she says. ‘You’ll stay here and be scholarly. And keep out of trouble if you possibly can.’

  ‘Who’s in trouble?’ Mum asks from behind us. She’s carrying a box full of random objects, probably something for the Christmas Show on Friday.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Munkers,’ Pippa says, instantly cheerful. ‘Nobody yet. It’s just that I have a free period and have to nip into town, so I can’t keep an eye on this lot.’ She slides up next to me, puts an arm around my shoulders and sneers happily into my face. I sneer back. We’re getting good at the boyfriend/girlfriend cover.

  ‘I’ll watch out for the explosions, then,’ Mum says, smiling at us.

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ I say in mock outrage. ‘Where’s your faith, woman?’

  And off she goes on her merry way, humming “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful”. Our five smiling faces slide back into worry and concentration. Pippa doesn’t pull away, though, now that Mum’s gone. In fact she turns towards me and snuggles her cheek into my shoulder, looking miserable.

  The bell interrupts us.

  ‘I have to run,’ Claire says. ‘I’ve got a horrible maths lesson. So do you,’ she reminds Pippa.

  ‘Well, sadly, I’m going to have to pass on that one.’

  ‘We’ve got English,’ Jem says, ‘and I don’t much care to have a duster thrown at my head for being late.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it for you,’ I offer.

  ‘Did you say you were going into town?’ Peter says to Pippa.

  ‘Well, that’s where Will usually heads when he storms off.’

  ‘I’ll drive you if you like,’ Peter offers. ‘I’ve got time, especially for a rescue mission.’

  And so we part. I wish we didn’t have to; I don’t feel as safe as I have done recently, not with Will off the set.

  And, just to add to my woes, we’re doing poetry in English, which is boring. For something more interesting to do I push my mind into people’s eyes to see what they’re thinking about. Fi Gleeson is thinking longingly about Troy Alderidge. Troy is thinking longingly about the cheese sandwich in his bag. And Miss Lassen, staring open-mouthed at Tracy Beckett stumbling her way through some Byron, is thinking… nothing. She’s the most air-headed person I’ve examined yet. I snort into my poetry book.

  Then I almost vomit into it. A sound, a bit
like static, has started up from somewhere. It’s not loud, but I feel like it’s worming its way into my brain and infecting everything in there. A wave of nausea passes over me.

  I stumble up from my desk and mutter something to Miss Lassen about not feeling well. I must look pretty rotten because she waves me towards the door. I hear Jem trying to follow me out, but she orders him back into his seat, saying I can look after myself.

  Once outside in the fresh air, I start to feel better. The static fades and my head and stomach stop churning. It’s very cold and quiet out in the school grounds, and there’s a heaviness in the clouds that speaks of snow. I’ve left my jacket on the back of my chair, so I can’t stay out for long or I’ll freeze, but I lean back against the wall behind me and close my eyes.

  My reverie is disturbed by the sound of a door opening away to my left. I open my eyes and turn my head, but as soon as I do the nausea comes back, ten times as strong as before. My stomach contracts and I collapse onto hands and knees, retching onto the grass.

  Oh God, I can’t breathe. My lungs are seizing. Tears trickle from my eyes, which are squinted shut in pain. I sense rather than see someone passing by me. Is it the same person who opened the door?

  ‘Please,’ I choke. ‘Please…’ I reach past my bowed head with one hand and grab at the air in front of me. My fingertips brush against something…

  All of a sudden the nausea turns to blinding energy. I gasp as it charges through me, lighting up every vein and making every hair on my body fizz. This is incredible! I’m aware of everything around me: every blade of grass below me, every crack in the wall behind me. And in front of me…

  The light is too blinding. I can’t see… Where are they, the person who passed by, who gave me this incredible power? Where did they go? Why did they leave me?

  A figure appears around a corner, walking towards me. I’m filled with glee – they’re coming back! – when I see it isn’t them.

  Damn them! Damn this new person who doesn’t have any power for me! I hiss and spit and tear at the grass under my hands.

  ‘You little shit.’

  I know that voice. Hacker. Martin Hacker, that’s who it is. He’s staring at me with pure hatred, but it’s nothing compared with mine. I can feel my own anger rising up, focussing my energy on one object.

  Martin Hacker is in my way.

  I jump to my feet and storm towards him. I have to get past him and find my power.

  ‘You just don’t learn, do you?’ Martin says, and takes a swing at me with… what’s he holding? A music stand?

  It slams into my face and I go falling back to the ground. I’m surprised by this, because it doesn’t hurt. My energy is numbing my body, making me invincible. I watch with interest as Martin tosses the music stand away and jumps on top of me. He’s too angry this time to punch where it won’t show, and is making quite a job of my face. Two clean punches to my nose. One to the left eye.

  I’m not paying much attention, though. My attention is focussed on the music stand hovering just behind Martin’s head. Black light shimmers over it. If I can just aim it at his spinal column…

  ‘BOYS!’

  Martin’s fist freezes in mid-air, and my powers jolt to a stop, leaving me shaking. The music stand falls to the ground.

  Oh my God. My eye. My nose.

  Martin’s spine…

  ‘Get up.’

  I watch as Martin turns his head towards the speaker, and feel weak with relief. The stand didn’t hit him. I didn’t break… I didn’t break…

  I turn my own head to vomit onto the grass again, and see Mr Grayson striding towards us, his eyes flashing. Martin scrambles off me and we both struggle to our feet. I find it hard to stay upright, I’m shaking so much.

  Mr Grayson stops and surveys us from a few feet away, his arms crossed. ‘Both of you, my office, now.’ He turns on his heel, fully expecting us to follow.

  We do. The fact that he’s usually bumbling and isn’t now makes him twice as scary. Was he always that tall? I turn and look back at the music stand lying innocently on the grass, and wonder if he saw it.

  He marches us inside the main doors, through the foyer and into Mum’s office. Mum’s sitting at her desk, typing away. She looks up as we approach, takes in the mud on my clothes and the blood on my face, and turns stonily back to her computer screen.

  She’s not yelling at me. She must be really mad.

  Mr Grayson points to a plastic chair next to her desk. ‘Mr Munkers, take a seat,’ he says. ‘Mr Hacker, inside.’ Martin slouches into his office, and Mr Grayson closes the door behind them both.

  I sit down on the edge of the chair and wait. I don’t have any reason to feel nervous. It’s not like I was the one doing anything wrong.

  Ah, but you almost did, my subconscious says. You were ready to bring that stand down on Martin’s head so hard it could have killed him.

  I swallow and try to convince myself that it isn’t true. I was only trying to get him off me. I was defending myself. I was scared.

  You were excited.

  My heart starts pounding, and I flex and bunch my fists to try to stop them trembling. There’s the taste of blood in my mouth, and I realise my nose is still bleeding a little. I wipe the blood away with my sleeve, but then figure this might not endear me any more to my mother.

  ‘Mum?’ I say tentatively. ‘Mum, can I have a tissue?’

  She doesn’t reply.

  If Mr Grayson doesn’t kill me, I think my mother might.

  The school bell rings suddenly. Hundreds of students walk past on their way to their next class. They all stare at me through the glass walls. This would normally make me feel awful, but I don’t think I can feel any worse right now.

  Mr Grayson’s door opens and Martin walks out looking completely deflated. He doesn’t even look at me, just walks straight out of Mum’s office and joins all the other students disappearing down the corridors. Mr Grayson’s head pokes out. ‘Alright, Mr Munkers. Your turn.’

  My turn at what? They don’t still use the cane in rural schools, do they?

  I get up and follow him in. As soon as I walk into his office I get the shakes again. What’s the matter with me? I have to get a grip on myself and think. This has to be handled carefully. I still don’t know what he saw.

  Grayson gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and sits down on the edge of the desk himself. I lower myself into the chair, watching him closely.

  ‘Ah, Jim,’ he says mildly, resting one foot on a box of Christmas decorations by his desk and clasping his hands around his knee. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

  I look down at my hands. ‘I’m sorry I was fighting, sir. I didn’t start it.’

  ‘It looked like you were about to end it, though,’ he says. ‘A music stand to the head, eh? I like it. He would have ended up as retarded as his brother.’

  I look up sharply. What did he just say?

  ‘I confess I’m a little disappointed,’ he continues. ‘A whole flight of fully-trained Hoarders after you, and it’s a self-righteous little prick like Hacker who makes you show yourself.’ He smiles at my look of horror. ‘Didn’t I tell you there were people looking out for you?’

  Chapter Thirteen: A Meeting of Minds

  Oh God. He’s a Hoarder.

  He’s a Hoarder, and I have no idea what to do about it. Did we cover this in training? Should I stare him down or avoid eye contact? Should I run away or curl into a ball? I have no idea, but I’m pretty sure that, whatever else I’m going to do, I’m going to panic.

  Mr Grayson, on the other hand, looks perfectly relaxed. He pops a mint into his mouth and smiles down at me.

  ‘Well, this is convenient,’ he says. ‘We can have a good chat without your pesky protectors interrupting us.’

  ‘Who?’

  Okay, so denial isn’t original, but it’s worth a shot. I don’t think Mr Grayson is buying it, though.

  ‘Now come on, Jim,’ he says, frowning. ‘Let’
s not play games with each other. I’ve waited very patiently for this confrontation, but I don’t mind telling you that I’m almost done being patient. You know who I’m talking about.’

  ‘No really, sir, I don’t,’ I say, trying not to think about what a “confrontation” might involve. ‘I don’t have any protectors.’

  ‘Well, not at the moment,’ he says, smiling again. ‘I wasn’t sure how I was going to get you away from them but, in the end, William took care of that for me.’

  I look up sharply despite myself. Will took care of it?

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Grayson says. ‘He didn’t betray you. He just chose last night to drink himself into unconsciousness over that Guardian bitch, Katherine Green.’

  Over Kit? What’s he talking about? Why would Will get drunk over Kit?

  Mr Grayson takes in my look of surprise. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’ he says. ‘I’m not surprised. It’s quite a pathetic tale: how he lost his powers on account of a skinny little girl. I wouldn’t tell anyone either.’

  So it was Kit who defeated him. He said it was a powerful Guardian who did it. No wonder he lost it when I said her name yesterday. He probably hates her guts.

  He picked a hell of a time to go out and get sloshed over it, though.

  ‘In any case,’ Mr Grayson continues, ‘it’s given us a nice opportunity to get to know one another a little better.’

  ‘Why would you want to get to know me?’ I ask cautiously.

  ‘Why?’ Mr Grayson laughs. ‘My dear boy, you’re fascinating. A human with extra-dimensional powers? Such a thing is beyond our knowledge. It’s going to be quite an education, studying you.’

  ‘Look, I really think you might have the wrong person here,’ I say, trying for guileless. ‘I don’t know anything about dimensions or –’

  ‘If you don’t stop toying with me, young man,’ he says, leaning towards me and breathing spearmint into my face, ‘I’m going to rip your power right out of you with my bare hands.’

  Oh. Man. I believe that was a death threat. I also believe my legs just turned into trifle.

  Mr Grayson straightens up again and polishes a fingerprint off the edge of his desk with his cuff. ‘There’s no point denying it, anyway. We’ve known about you ever since your little incident down in London.’