The Supervillain High Boxed Set: Books One - Three of the Supervillain High Series

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “Are you Champ?” Brendan asked.

  “The one and only.”

  “The coffee’s good.”

  Champ just nodded and went into the back. Before Brendan left to make his first class, he put the empty cup away into a large gray bin. The smell of baking and cinnamon filled the coffeehouse. By the time Brendan made it back to school, his stomach was grumbling.

  ***

  The phone signal stayed out all day as was the school WiFi. The other students were onto that fact as well, and it became the only topic of conversation as hundreds of fingers worked futilely at their phones and tablets. At noon break, Brendan went to find an open lounge in his dorm with a television so he could watch the news.

  An apparent large-scale denial-of-service attack was underway that was affecting large swathes of the country’s communication networks. Little in the way of solid facts followed the headlines. His history class was open seating. Brendan had already claimed his spot in the second row near the door, but when Tina entered, she snagged him by an elbow and beckoned him to follow her to the back of the class. He collected his things.

  “It’s back up,” she whispered.

  The news spread to all the students, and soon enough Ms. Pounder’s lecture on the First Punic War was eclipsed by twenty small screens and twice that many busy thumbs. Brendan checked his email, saw nothing, and typed a quick “Let me know you’re okay” message to all of his dad’s addresses, knowing that none would go through. Only then did he check the news.

  “Addicting, isn’t it?” Tina asked in a hushed tone, pointing to his phone screen.

  “Curse of our generation.”

  The teacher continued to pace in front of the students, the lecture clearly memorized, her tone steady, flat, and dry.

  “I mean the supers.” She showed him a news headline on her screen: Swinging Super Falls on Police Car in Ann Arbor. “I didn’t know you were such a big fan.”

  “It’s okay,” Brendan said. “A guilty pleasure, I guess.”

  “No guilt here. I love it. I want to see who has what gadget. The stuff they build. It’s amazing.”

  “Imagine if they used half that effort to make things that would do some good.”

  “Imagine how boring that would be. Isn’t that like saying imagine the Mars mission shouldn’t have happened because it was too expensive and that it would be better if that energy was used to build hospitals? Of course that’s true. But it’s the excitement of it all that created that energy.”

  “That energy gets people killed.”

  “Drama much? If you don’t like it, stop reading about it. They feed off hits.”

  Brendan turned off his phone out of spite. Ms. Pounder was explaining the phrase “Carthage must be destroyed” and its impact on Roman foreign policy.

  Ever so slowly, Tina pushed her own phone into Brendan’s field of view. A costumed girl in a white low-cut leotard was beating down a trio of looters with her fighting sticks. The phone trembled as Tina tried to suppress her laughter. As they watched, Brendan began to smile too.

  ***

  Mr. Childes met with Brendan just before dinner, an hour later than scheduled. Brendan thought he could use that wait time online, but once again the internet and the network were out. He paced the outer office and tried to busy himself by looking out the window and examining the handful of ornate bound books on the bookcase. A sextant, a bronze antique lamp, and a tiny globe made of some pearly white rock stood in a line on a lower shelf. All the metal parts of the collection were polished and devoid of fingerprints. Brendan touched the items, carefully turning each one to see how they were assembled and figure out whether they were from a bygone era or of recent manufacture.

  “I apologize for the delay,” Mr. Childes said as he conducted Brendan into the office. “You’ve made it through your first week. I hope all is going well.”

  Brendan shrugged. “Well enough, I guess. Did you see the news?”

  “Which news?”

  “There was another event with supers in New York yesterday that involved my father. A robbery. My father was shot.”

  “I see. And what is your father’s condition?”

  “I have no way of finding out. The internet and phone have been out. The last news report I could find said he was in the hospital, and that it was critical. I’m going crazy trying to learn more. I was wondering if there was anything you could do to help.”

  “Unfortunately, the entire school has been experiencing the outages. Apparently, the problem is countrywide. I’m sure they will fix it soon. These things have happened before. But I’m not sure how I can help you with getting information.”

  “I was thinking if I could take the hyperloop and get to Los Angeles or Bakersfield, someplace more central, the internet might come back there first.”

  Mr. Childes steepled his fingers. “Dutchman Springs will be back on as soon as the rest, if not sooner. It was built with the modern data age in mind. If the problem affects us, it will affect those other cities just as severely. This issue will mostly just require your patience. Besides, we can’t have you leaving school without an escort. Your security is a priority. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I do. It’s just that I’m freaking out a bit.”

  “Can I walk you to the nurse’s office? Nurse Dreyfus can suggest some things that could help with managing your stress.”

  “No, thank you. Does your landline work?”

  “It does.”

  “Can I use it to call my mom?”

  “Certainly. Let me take you to a desk where you can have some privacy.”

  ***

  Hearing his mom’s voice calmed him down some. She hadn’t been home. He found her at the hospital, where she picked up once she had been paged. She never carried her cell phone, said it was for emergencies only, which exasperated Brendan to no end.

  “Brendan, is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. My phone’s been out, and I wasn’t able to reach you.”

  He heard the voices and racket of the hospital over the receiver.

  “It’s so good to hear your voice,” she said. “I hope you’re filling that big brain of yours with everything they’re teaching you. How are your classes?”

  “They’re good. Everything’s good. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mico. Nothing to worry about here. I have to cover an evening shift, but I can always use the money.”

  “Mom, you should be sleeping.”

  “Not this early. I’ll catch a few hours, don’t worry.”

  Someone in the background was calling her name insistently. Brendan wanted to ask if she could check on his father, but he faltered. This was a topic they never spoke of.

  “Mom, I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mico. Call me tomorrow.”

  “I will.”

  6. Just a Schoolgirl

  Lucille wanted to meet at lunchtime so Brendan could help her with the basics of calculating the angles of a triangle. She had made a point of sitting close to Brendan throughout the second week of geometry class, but she alternated between being extra friendly with him, all smiles and winks, and not even responding to him when he said hello in passing.

  The teaching assistants had all left the math and science workshop, so they had it entirely to themselves.

  He pulled up the reference video from the school network. It was animated and informative. Lucille leaned in close, a hand on his forearm.

  “I’ve watched that already,” she said. “I want you to explain it.”

  Her eyes glazed over as he reviewed the formulae for determining altitude, vertices, and bisector lengths when other measurements were known. Brendan found himself regurgitating the basics of the terminology. She nodded a few times as he used the onscreen graphics to back up his explanations. When she stopped nodding and started to scowl, he decided to take a remedial step back in his lesson plan.

  He drew a triangle on his tablet. “So
first, let’s start by defining what each type of triangle is. If this is an equilateral triangle, what do you know about it?”

  “Look, I know what that is. But it’s the stuff he was talking about today that didn’t add up.”

  “Okay. But I’m building up to that. I guess I was just trying to figure out what it is that you’re not understanding.”

  She flinched. “What do you mean?”

  “What? Nothing. I just think we need to get to where it is that the teacher lost you.”

  “He didn’t ‘lose’ me. I just found today hard to follow.”

  On his screen he navigated through the geometry class’s posted information and media. Everything the class had covered or would cover was there. He found the teacher’s notes from the morning.

  “Here it is. We can read through this now. Just stop me whenever, and I’ll go over the parts that get confusing.”

  “You get all this stuff, don’t you?” she asked. Her hand still hadn’t left his arm, but with her other fingers she tapped a slow rhythm on the desk. She was glaring at him.

  “Yeah, more or less. It’s really not that hard when you—”

  “You think I’m stupid.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I didn’t say you were stupid.”

  “I can see it on your face. You were thinking it.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  But Lucille got up from the desk and hurried towards the door. He tried to go after her but fumbled with his tablet, the desk, and then his feet. By the time he got himself together and outside, she was gone.

  ***

  He found Lucille in the school restaurant. She carried a tray with a cup of yogurt and a salad. Two large boys he had seen around followed behind her, one holding her purse and tablet. Perhaps they were upperclassmen. Perhaps they were confined to the physical education facility and did nothing but lift weights and chew barbells.

  “Lucille, hey,” Brendan said. “I just wanted to say I didn’t mean to imply that you needed tutoring from me or anything. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  She paused, a quizzical look on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  One of her boys stepped between them. Brendan took a step back, and Lucille and her escorts walked past to go sit in the crowded dining room. His own stomach made noise, and he got in line.

  “So, what brings you and the ice queen together?” Tina asked, appearing behind him with an empty tray flipping in her hands.

  “She’s in over her head with the geometry class.” Brendan put a plate with a sandwich on his tray. The turkey and cheese and ham overfilled the rustic bread, straining the stress capacity of the toothpicks that held it all together. Tina followed along and selected a piece of cheese pizza. She dumped a scoop of sliced black olives over it. Next she added some pickle slices, then cubes of braised tofu in a peanut sauce.

  “You’re judging me with your eyes,” she said as they walked outside. They sat next to each other on a bench.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her food. “I’m just not sure what I’m seeing.”

  “I’ve heard all the questions before. Have I lost my taste buds? Am I pregnant? Who cares? I like what I like.”

  “No judgment here. I’m just curious how you’re going to eat that without any silverware.”

  She showed him. The pizza curled just enough to contain its load, and she ate.

  “Watch out for her,” Tina said after daintily dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “She’s in one of my classes. She’s a flame who likes to have plenty of moths around her.”

  “I was just trying to help her with her homework.”

  “Yeah. But ask yourself what she thought you were helping her with.”

  ***

  The internet died again that afternoon. Brendan knew this because he checked his phone every five minutes. He guessed this was what it was like to be an amputee absently feeling for a phantom limb. Oddly enough, he was the only one in his new electronics class distracted by his phone, as the rest of the students were actually paying attention to the frizzy-haired teacher as she demonstrated the basics of wiring a solenoid. Ms. Hayes’s device, once triggered, would fire a piston into a steel ball, which would roll down a track, around a loop and down a descending corkscrew, and through a row of charged magnets, and smash into a row of five light bulbs. Poser was sitting front and center along with Vlad Behram, the big kid from Brendan’s dorm. Vlad was not only engaged but excited, barely staying seated. His white toothy smile shined in bright contrast to his dark skin. He elbowed Poser as the teacher explained the problem.

  Her wiring schematic was up on a projection. The class had to give her the right answers on where to attach the wires so that the bulbs and magnets would come on as soon as the piston fired. All of this connected to a small battery, which also had to be included in the circuit for the contraption to work.

  The class had to pay attention and give Ms. Hayes the right answers for the payoff. Brendan put his phone away and watched as the teacher tried to goad the students into having her do things that wouldn’t complete the basic circuit.

  “You think you have it?” she asked them.

  “Yes,” came the consensus from the class. Brendan was surprised that so many students at Dutchman Springs were actively occupied with their lessons and the teachers. In his middle school, only a few of the bright and brainy ever bothered with answering a question not directed solely at them.

  “Are you sure? Would you bet all the tea in China?”

  Brendan thought the design appeared sound. “It’s correct,” he said before anyone else answered. Suddenly all eyes were on him.

  “Then come up and hit the switch.”

  She stepped away from the wired machine. Brendan was suddenly uncomfortable, surprised at himself for having spoken aloud. He went to the front of the class and put his hand on the switch. He reviewed the wiring.

  “Not so certain anymore, are we?”

  “Go for it,” Poser said.

  “I’m certain. But I like to check again.”

  Ms. Hayes smiled and nodded. “Very wise. You may proceed, Mr. Garza.”

  He hit the switch. The piston fired, snapping the ball forward down its track. It looped, almost ran off the corkscrew rails, was accelerated by the magnets, and shattered the illuminated bulbs with a crash.

  The class hooted and clapped. Brendan sat down.

  “Excellent work. We see the need for quality assurance, don’t we? It’s not enough to have the theory down. Your work must be precise. Mr. Garza knew this instinctively, didn’t you?”

  Brendan offered a nod. He didn’t like the focus to be all on him.

  “Measure twice,” Vlad said. “Cut once.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Behram. Words to live by.”

  ***

  When class ended only half of the students left, even though it was the last period of the day. Vlad was interrogating the teacher on making circuit boards and Brendan listened in, intent on discovering the rules for after-hours lab access. Why were so many others sticking around?

  “Jumping ahead, are we, Mr. Behram?” Ms. Hayes asked.

  “I want to get to the interesting stuff,” Vlad said.

  “I thought all of my classes were interesting,” she said with a wink.

  Some of the remaining students laughed. “They are absolutely captivating,” Vlad said. “But they will captivate more if I can prepare myself for them.”

  “You don’t have to kiss my butt. I’ll post the class notes and videos this afternoon, but some of the steps will require supervision. You’re getting into lab work that involves the fun stuff like acetone that I keep locked up and out of the hands of students. That’s it for today.”

  This sounded like a dismissal. Brendan got up to leave but Poser gestured for him to wait. Six other students, including Vlad, also lingered. Ms. Hayes closed the classroom door and unlocked a few cabinets, revealing tools and other materials.

  “Make sure t
o keep your works in progress inside my office or locked in your project drawers,” Ms. Hayes said. “Close everything up when you’re finished. Use the safety equipment. Gloves and goggles when handling the ferric chloride and other chemicals. Make sure the door and windows get locked before you leave. Break any of these rules, and the electronics club gets canceled. Welcome Mr. Garza, everyone.”

  With a two-finger salute, she left them.

  Vlad gave Brendan a nod. Poser nudged him on the shoulder.

  “I didn’t know I was joining a club.”

  “It’s what she puts on our student record,” Poser said. “It looks good on the résumé, but Ms. Hayes seems to understand what a bunch of crap that all is. Besides, club’s just a fancy word for doing cool stuff with the best tools on campus during our free time. What would you rather be doing? Chess? Football?”

  “Debate society?” Vlad asked. “Student government?”

  Others chimed in. “Glee club?” “Track and field?” “Ornithology?” This descended into a “there is, there is not” argument over whether the school had a bird-watching club. A quick check of the school’s internal wiki confirmed it didn’t.

  “Just look at all of this,” Vlad said. “Think of the potential. Where else can you build your own super suit?”

  ***

  Lucille texted Brendan via the school’s network: “Where r u?”

  He stared at his tablet, wondering what she wanted. She had never texted him before, and with their last conversation fresh in his mind he had been convinced they wouldn’t ever need to speak again. But he replied.

  “Electronics lab.”

  “kk. BRT.”

  Brendan saw the time was just after five. He had lost himself in helping Vlad and two of the others with a large circuit diagram that would become part of a robot arm. They had the layout down, but the laser printer wasn’t working. Vlad suggested it was a network problem that would need to be solved by Ms. Hayes.