The Nameless Hero

by Lee Bacon

  “My dad wasn’t home much before this show,” she said. “Now he has to get up extra early to meet with wardrobe and makeup people. Before, he was at least around the house sometimes—you know, when there weren’t any major crimes or photo shoots. But now …”

  Sophie took a breath, her eyes peering out the window.

  “I guess I never really expected a normal life. Not with my dad being … well—my dad. But sometimes, I feel like he doesn’t even know I’m there.”

  I tried to think of something that would make Sophie feel better. At least her dad was a superhero. Try being the child of supervillains. Every time my parents got caught up in a plan, I had to worry that the world was going to end up annihilated.

  Not to mention that Sophie had a way more qualified robot butler. That had to count for something, right? And he even knew just the right thing to say that would lift everyone’s spirits.

  “Perhaps you children would like to see what’s in the mini-fridge,” Stanley suggested.

  “Ooh, can we?” Milton asked excitedly.

  This brought a slight smile to Sophie’s lips. She opened the door to the sleek silver mini-fridge. It was stocked with soda, orange juice, and sparkling water.

  After that, everyone’s mood improved. We explored the rest of the limo, discovering that every seat came with a built-in control panel.

  “What does this button do?” I asked, pointing at the panel next to my seat.

  “That turns up the air-conditioning,” Sophie said.

  “And this?”

  “That one makes your seat eject two hundred feet into the air.”

  I held my control panel a little more carefully after that.

  Sophie explained a few of the other buttons. She leaned toward me, close enough that her hair brushed against my shoulder.

  “This one makes hundreds of robot bees shoot out of the exhaust pipe,” she said, pointing. “And this enables the energy shield. Oh, and here’s a cool one—”

  Sophie reached forward and pressed one of the buttons on my control panel. I gripped my armrest a little more tightly, halfway expecting my seat to eject into the air or burst into flames. Instead, a shining disco ball lowered from the vehicle’s ceiling and shades unfolded to cover the windows. Once it was dark inside the limo, lights began blinking rapidly.

  “It’s a strobe light!” Sophie said.

  I waved my hand in front of my face. The blinking light made the motions look jerky and disjointed.

  “Look at me!” Milton said. He was doing the robot.

  Sophie and I couldn’t stop laughing. Even Stanley seemed impressed, which was especially nice, considering he was an actual robot.

  Sophie hit a couple of other buttons on the control panel. Music blared through the limo, and the sunroof slid open. The three of us stood up with our heads sticking out the open roof, the wind rushing through our hair.

  We were having such a good time that I hardly noticed when we pulled up to the street that Milton and I lived on.

  “I’ve got to show you something,” Milton said once the limo had driven away. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper that looked exactly like the ones Sophie and I had received. I skimmed the words at the top of the note.

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  YOU ARE INVITED TO ATTEND

  GYFTED & TALENTED

  “Hold on.” I gave the note a closer inspection. “How’d you—”

  And then it occurred to me. Back in the library, when Milton had asked to borrow one of the notes, Sophie had wondered where he’d disappeared to. Now I knew—he’d gone to use the copy machine. He’d created a note for himself.

  “Do you think that’ll work?” I asked. “Whoever sent these notes probably knows who received one and who didn’t. They probably have, like, a list or—”

  “I had to do something,” Milton said, his voice cracking. “You and Sophie—you get to have cool superpowers. You find mysterious notes. None of that happens for me. I just don’t …” Milton paused, glancing away. “I just don’t want to be left out.”

  It’s weird how you can get so tangled up in your own head that you forget to think about anyone else. All the time I spent worrying about why I was receiving these notes, Milton was worrying about why he wasn’t.

  Back at home, my parents were waiting for me in the dining room. And so was Micus. I’d been trying (unsuccessfully) to convince them to move Micus somewhere else, preferably someplace where I’d never see him again.

  Micus was the mutant houseplant my mom had created. He also hated my guts. Whenever I got near, he would slap me with his leafy arms or throw clumps of dirt at my head. And any time I tried to retaliate, Mom got mad at me, not Micus.

  Entering the dining room, I twisted sideways to avoid being grabbed by one of Micus’s branches. That was when I saw my parents seated at the table. Between them was a white envelope. By the looks of it, there was a family meeting in session, and I was the last to arrive.

  “Hi, Joshua,” Mom said. “How was the last day of school?”

  I thought for a second about how to answer that. I’d decided not to tell my parents about the whole almost-getting-mauled-by-a-mutant-librarian thing. They had a tendency to pick up and move to a new town whenever there was even a hint that trouble was coming.

  You could say it was part of the supervillain lifestyle. I’d spent most of my life in constant shuffle. One day, everything was fine. And the next … pack your bags. New town, new school, new identity.

  But the last three years had been different. We’d stayed in Sheepsdale long enough for me to get settled into a normal life. Or as normal as life can get when the houseplant tries to give you a wedgie every time you get close enough. I actually had friends. And one little attack could change all that. So I’d decided not to mention it. At least, not yet.

  “School was fine.” I shrugged, dropping my backpack to the floor. “I survived, anyway.”

  “Excellent!”

  My eyes landed on the envelope that was lying on the table. “What’s that?”

  “See for yourself.” Dad slid the envelope across the table.

  Everyone was receiving letters today. The envelope was addressed to my parents, although I noticed that there was no stamp and no return address. Inside were a one-page letter and a glossy brochure. I picked up the letter and started to read:

  Dear Parent(s) and/or Guardian(s),

  Congratulations! Your child has been selected to attend Gyfted & Talented, an exclusive two-month summer program specifically intended for boys and girls with extraordinary Gyfts.

  I stared at the page, bewildered. So that was what this was all about? A summer camp for Gyfted kids?

  I opened the brochure, and my eyes scanned colorful photographs of kids practicing their Gyfts, riding around a track on hover skateboards, hanging out around a holographic campfire.

  On the last page of the brochure, oversized letters stretched across the glossy page:

  GYFTED & TALENTED

  MASTER YOUR GYFTS, TRAIN WITH EXPERTS,

  GET FIRSTHAND EXPERIENCE.

  AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT,

  MAYBE YOU’LL EVEN SAVE THE WORLD!

  “ ‘Save the world’?” I said, reading the last line out loud. That didn’t sound like the kind of thing my parents would be into, considering they’d devoted their careers to doing the exact opposite. But surprisingly, they didn’t seem to mind.

  “I’m sure it’s just a figure of speech,” Mom said breezily.

  “Probably their way of being politically correct,” Dad added. “It’s not like they could come out in favor of ending the world.”

  “But it sounds like it might be intended for … you know … superheroes,” I pointed out.

  “Let’s not focus on labeling everything,” Mom said. “Hero, villain—at your age, the most important thing is to figure out how to best use your Gyft. You still have plenty of time to realize what a great supervillain you’ll be.”
r />   “So you want me to go?”

  Mom and Dad exchanged a glance that let me know they’d already talked it over. After clearing his throat, Dad said, “Your mother and I feel that it would be a good opportunity. A chance to improve your powers and get to know other Gyfted kids.”

  “You’re fortunate to have such a powerful Gyft,” Mom went on. “But spontaneous combustion is also quite volatile. A summer program like this might be just what you need to gain better control over your power.”

  “Of course, it’s your choice, son,” Dad assured me. “It says in the brochure that the program doesn’t start for another week. We’ll leave the decision up to you.”

  I stared at the brochure, uncertainty drifting through my mind. Did I really want to spend my next two months at some kind of training camp for kids with superpowers?

  But it wasn’t just that. Everything about the Gyfted & Talented program just seemed … off. The unexplained notes appearing out of nowhere. The warning that had come moments before the substitute librarian had tried to rip my head off. And what about that line about saving the world? What if that wasn’t just a figure of speech?

  Whatever was going on, I had a hunch there was a lot the brochure wasn’t telling us.

  5

  “Next up—Dragon’s Breath!” Milton pointed toward a roller coaster that looped and twisted around a huge green dragon. “And it even shoots real fire out of its mouth! We should hurry before the line gets any longer!”

  It was the third day of the summer break, and we were at AwesomeWorld, the new amusement park Milton wouldn’t stop talking about. He’d been dragging us around the park all morning, from one ride to another—each with a more intimidating name than the last. The Steamroller, Death-Trap, the Barfonator.

  “What’s the big rush?” Sophie called after him.

  Milton turned back to face us, huffing to catch his breath. “Gotta cram as much fun into the summer before leaving for Gyfted and Talented.”

  There was no telling whether Milton’s forged invitation slip would get him in, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from trying. I wasn’t nearly so certain about the idea. The night before, I’d gone online to find out more, but that had turned up nothing. There wasn’t a single website that traced back to Gyfted & Talented.

  It was like it didn’t exist at all.

  The entire program was shrouded in mystery. All I had to go on were the materials that had popped up out of nowhere. The strange notes, the letter, the brochure. And those weren’t exactly crammed with informative details. I still had no idea where Gyfted & Talented was located, or how many kids were attending, or what we would do once we got there. There wasn’t even a sign-up form.

  Not that my parents seemed to mind. They’d built their careers around secrecy. The fact that it was impossible to find any information about Gyfted & Talented only made it seem more legitimate to them.

  “Do you mind if we take a break first?” Sophie asked. “I’m still woozy from the Barfonator.”

  “Fine.” Milton sighed. “I’m gonna check out the gift shop. Be right back!”

  As Milton jogged off, I turned to Sophie. “Have you thought any more about Gyfted and Talented?”

  “It sounds like fun,” Sophie replied. “And it beats sitting around with nothing to do.”

  I shrugged. “I was kind of looking forward to sitting around with nothing to do.”

  “But you’re going? Right?”

  “I don’t know. The whole thing seems a little suspicious. If Gyfted and Talented is so great, why can’t I find it on Google?”

  “They’re probably just good at keeping it under wraps. So many Gyfted kids together in one place, they have to be secretive.”

  “What’s your dad say about it?”

  Annoyance flickered in Sophie’s eyes. “He probably wouldn’t even notice if I went away for two months.”

  I was immediately sorry for bringing Captain Justice into the conversation. The reality show was taking up all his time these days. Luckily, Sophie had other things to focus on. Like convincing me to come with her to Gyfted & Talented. She pointed to a pink kiosk nearby.

  “I’m getting cotton candy,” she said. “If I split it with you, will you at least think about going?”

  Her blue-gray eyes set on me expectantly as a half smile formed on her lips.

  I was about to take Sophie up on the offer when I heard a scream.

  “The sky!” someone behind me yelled. “Something’s falling!”

  Looking up, I saw a blazing red object scorching across the blue sky. My first thought was a crashing airplane, but it was way too small. It looked more like a tiny asteroid falling from space. There wasn’t a whole lot of time to speculate, though. Whatever it was, the thing was moving fast.

  And it was headed right for us.

  One moment it was ripping through the sky. And the next it was crashing into AwesomeWorld. On its way, it grazed the sign for Corny Cahill’s Corn Dog Emporium, a four-story-tall fake corn dog. The sign erupted into flames, and the object slammed into the pavement below.

  As far as I could tell, nobody had been hurt. But the crash sent chaos across the entire park. The crowd was a sea of panic. Everyone was screaming. Most of them were making a mad dash for the exits, while some searched desperately for lost friends and loved ones.

  Milton appeared next to me, wearing an AwesomeWorld baseball cap and licking an ice cream cone. He was a little too late to have seen the Unidentified Flaming Object but was just in time to witness the pandemonium it had caused.

  “I leave for two minutes, and this is what happens?” Milton’s eyes turned to the flaming sign. “Anyone wanna tell me why an oversized corn dog is on fire?”

  “S-something fell from the s-sky.” I felt like I was choking on the words. “Asteroid or missile or something.”

  Questions punctured my thoughts. Where had it come from? And why?

  “We’ve got to put out that fire before it spreads,” Sophie said.

  She was right. The corn dog was really blazing now, flames reaching high into the air. If we waited for a fire truck, half the park would burn down. No telling how many people could get hurt or killed.

  I scanned my surroundings, eyes passing over abandoned shops and restaurants, kids leaping off a moving carousel and into the arms of their worried parents. And then I saw what I was looking for.

  “This way!” I pointed in the direction of the flaming corn dog. “I’ve got an idea!”

  I bolted forward, pushing my way through swarms of people, trying not to get trampled along the way. I came to a stop when I reached a plaza. The space had cleared of people by now, and the only thing standing between me and Corny Cahill’s Corn Dog Emporium was a fountain. Ringed by a marble pool, the fountain sent water gushing from a supersized bouquet of stone flowers. Roses, daisies, tulips—each twice the size of my head, squirting a stream of water into the pool.

  Ignoring the clearly marked sign that read PLEASE DO NOT PLAY IN THE FOUNTAIN, I leaped over the edge and landed in the knee-deep water.

  My friends were looking at me like I was a lunatic.

  “Uh … Joshua?” Milton said. “I’m not sure this is the best time for a bath.”

  Pushing his voice out of my mind, I concentrated my thoughts. A swell of energy gained strength inside me, racing through my veins. I splashed across the pool and slammed my hands against the stone flowers.

  CRRRR-AAAAAACK!

  The explosion of spontaneous combustion knocked me backward into the water. Rising back above the surface, I pushed the wet hair out of my eyes and saw that it had worked. The blast had obliterated the stone bouquet. Instead of a dozen streams pouring out in all directions, the water gushed upward in a single jet from a busted pipe, straight into the air like a geyser.

  I rose to my feet, gazing up at the tower of surging water. “Now we just need to find a way to get this water to put out that fire.”

  “I can help with that.” Sophie jo
ined me in the fountain. By the time she got to me, her skin had begun to glow. She plunged her hands forward, palms out, over the busted pipe.

  The force of the water would’ve easily knocked away the hands of a normal person. But Sophie wasn’t a normal person. Not at moments like this. She held her hands steadily in place and redirected the water. Instead of straight up, it now shot forward in a long, powerful arc.

  Shifting her hands, she aimed the jet of water toward the giant flaming corn dog. The fire was extinguished within minutes. By the time we stepped out of the fountain, the sign had the charred look of a snack that had been left in the oven too long.

  “What do you think set the fire?” Milton asked.

  “I don’t know.” I squeezed water out of my soaked shirt, gazing up into the sky. “It was like it came out of nowhere.”

  “Whatever it was, it landed over there.” Sophie pointed to a crater in the concrete beneath the corn dog sign.

  We crossed the plaza at a jog, leaving wet footprints to evaporate behind us. I stopped near the edge of the crater and peered inside. The cracked dent in the concrete stretched about ten feet across. And in the center was the object that had caused all the destruction. Except it wasn’t a missile, and it didn’t look like an asteroid either. It looked sort of like …

  A silver golf ball.

  The little metallic sphere gleamed in the sunlight. Hard to believe something so small could be responsible for so much damage.

  “What is it?” Sophie asked.

  I shook my head. “No idea.”

  “First a mutant librarian and now this?” Milton stared into the crater, his eyes wide with bewilderment. “Maybe they’re connected.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sophie said. “The librarian was careful to isolate us so that nobody else was around. This thing hit in the middle of a crowded amusement park.”

  “And unlike with the librarian, this time there wasn’t a warning beforehand,” I said. “So I doubt it has anything to do with Gyfted and Talented either.”