Small Town Superhero Box Set: Complete Series

by Cheree Alsop

  “Here you go,” Cassidy said.

  I took the pair of wire cutters and began working around the hooves. After four snips, I was able to unwrap the wires and set the little creature free. It stumbled to its feet and gave a louder moo. The mama cow at the top of the wash answered.

  “Can you carry him over?” Cassidy asked.

  Worried about hurting the animal, I gathered the calf carefully in my arms and ducked back under the tree branches she held up for me. It felt strange to hold something so fragile and young, but as soon as its mother came into view, the little calf kicked out with a strength that surprised me, eager to be back by her side. I set the animal on the ground and it gamboled up the bank to its mother. She licked its face, and it began to drink eagerly.

  “I wonder how long he’s been stuck.” Cassidy mused. “He looks weaker than his brother. We’ll have to herd them slowly.”

  “Uncle Rick won’t mind?”

  She shook her head. “You saved the calf’s life, Kel. We would have left him and he’d have starved to death.”

  The thought made me sober on our slow trek back to the herd. Uncle Rick rode a gray horse out to meet us. “Taking your time?” he asked when he drew near.

  “Kel found the black-and-white one under a Russian olive tree with his hooves wrapped in wire. I missed him entirely,” Cassidy explained.

  Uncle Rick looked down at the calf that now walked happily beside its mother and brother. He gave a nod of approval. “Good job, Kelson. It’s not often a cow has twins, so there’s the chance they get left behind. Good catch.”

  I grinned. It was a good feeling to be in the right for once. It was definitely something I could get used to.

  We rode slowly behind the herd as Jaren led it down a dirt road. Jake ran in front of us, herding the cattle and keeping them on the road instead of straying into the growing fields on either side. It took every moment of the dog’s time, and it was amazing to see how hard he worked. He darted off after each wandering cow and herded them back with either a stare or a nip at their heels. If they refused to listen, a bark would get them moving. He cut our work in half, if not more. I couldn’t imagine how much time it would take if we had to use the horses to chase down every stray animal he brought back. A dog like that would be priceless to a farmer.

  Cole rode ahead and opened a fence to a pasture on the south side that was spread with sparse grass and weeds as far as I could see. “Hup, cattle,” Uncle Rick called. He angled his horse along the road so the cows had no choice but to turn into the gate. Jake nipped a few he felt weren’t going fast enough. The cows mooed in protest, but they obeyed and moseyed into the pasture. It amazed me how comfortable I felt in Chewbacca’s saddle. The horse was content to grab a few mouthfuls of grass along the side of the road while we waited.

  I watched the mother cow with her twins as she found a patch of sun-warmed dirt on the other side and settled down to chew her cud. The black-and-white calf jumped around with his red-and-white brother. I couldn’t help but smile; they reminded me of a pair of kids playing together.

  Uncle Rick shut the gate behind the last one and secured it with a loop of wire. “Well done,” he said. He squinted at the sun. “I think we have time for ice cream in town before the game.”

  Everyone shouted in excitement. Cole and Jaren spurred their horses into a run up the dirt road. Cassidy followed close behind and overtook them both. “You’re not going to join the race?” Uncle Rick asked.

  “Are you kidding?” I shook my head. “I just learned to stay on this thing. I’m not about to push my luck.” Besides, my leg was killing me. Riding a horse after redoing stitches definitely wasn’t within doctor’s orders. But I wouldn’t complain. I did something right, and by the look on Uncle Rick’s face, he was actually happy to have me around for once. I eased my foot out of the stirrup and let my leg hang while the horses walked back to the trailer.

  AUNT LAUREN WAS RIGHT; everyone in Sparrow had turned out for the Homecoming game. Aunt Lauren and Uncle Rick took seats next to Jagger, who looked like he had actually trimmed about an inch off his belly-length beard for the event. He waved at me and I waved back before I followed Cassidy and Sandy to the student section. I looked around for Madelyn, but couldn’t find her in the audience.

  Cassidy caught me searching. “The Wests usually don’t show up. I’d be surprised if she found a ride.” She looked thoughtful, then nudged me with her elbow. “We should invite her next time for your sake so you’d at least have something to enjoy.”

  “I like football,” I said, but it was obvious to both of us that I really didn’t.

  “Who’s the one in the middle throwing the ball?” Cassidy quizzed.

  I rolled my eyes. “The quarterback, Cass. It’s not that I don’t know anything about football—I just don’t like it.”

  She shrugged and sat back. Sandy returned to our seats carrying three hot dogs and sodas in cardboard trays. “Geesh,” she said, handing them out. “You’d think the Bullets were starving, the way they’re raiding the Snack Shack.”

  I followed her gaze. It was easy to spot Magnum and his gang harassing two servers working at the snack booth near the end of the bleachers. Anytime somebody ordered, they grabbed the food and ate it so the cooks had to make up two sets for each person.

  “I’m sick and tired of the way they treat people,” Sandy said in a huff. “I’m just glad Toby didn’t charge me double for these.”

  Frustration surged through me at the Bullets’ actions. I took a big bite of my hot dog, then pretended to choke on it.

  “Are you all right?” Cassidy asked, alarmed. She pounded on my back.

  I nodded and swallowed. “I’m just going to run to the restroom,” I said, coughing.

  She took my soda and hot dog, then moved back so I could skirt around her. I hurried down the stairs and turned the corner. All the while, I kept my eyes on the Bullets and the poor harassed servers in the booth. Magnum snatched a pretzel from one girl’s hands before she could give it to a customer. The server argued with Magnum and I heard her state clearly that it was her last one. Magnum laughed and took a big bite. The server turned with tears in her eyes to explain to the customer that there were no more.

  I stormed into the bathroom, angry that anyone could treat a fellow student that way. Apparently, my little lesson in the convenience store hadn’t been enough. I wanted to teach them something in front of the school. Perhaps a little humiliation would do them good. I leaned against the bathroom door in futile fury when I spotted a crumpled costume near one of the stalls. A closer inspection showed it to be the Bulldog mascot costume. By the sounds of things, the wearer wouldn’t be out of the stall anytime soon.

  My shirt was blue and white, but my light jacket was black and nondescript. I grabbed the costume and pulled it on, then slipped the jacket over the top. I hoped they were at least smart enough to put two and two together and realize I was the same person from the other night. I stuck the bulldog head on and paused. My vision was limited and the bulky head made my movements slower. I would have to be careful.

  I pulled open the door and walked out in the Bulldog outfit. The floppy feet and big paws made me feel like a walking stuffed animal, which I guess was exactly what I was.

  “Hey, Bruno,” one boy said when I passed.

  A girl held out her hand and I slapped her a high five with my paw. Nobody questioned the mascot as I made my way to the concessions table, where one of Magnum’s tall cronies had taken the cash box and was holding it out of a server’s reach while the other Bullets laughed. I grinned inside the mask; I was going to enjoy this.

  I pretended to trip and crashed into the crony. The cash box flew up and landed on the ground. I climbed back to my feet and managed to trip the Bullet again so that he fell into the table of condiments and landed on the ground with relish on his head. I picked the cash box up in my awkward paws and handed it back to the server. “This is yours, I think,” I said in a wry tone. I hoped my vo
ice was muffled enough by the costume that Magnum wouldn’t recognize it.

  The server took the box and hurried back inside the snack booth as if he feared for his life.

  “What’s up, Bruno?” Magnum asked. He shoved me from behind. “Are you a bulldog or some misdirected Robin Hood?”

  “Depends,” I said. I stumbled forward into one of the other Bullets, who turned me around and shoved me back. “Would that make you a cowardly thief, who picks on those less fortunate?”

  Magnum stared at me for a moment in surprise, then swung a fist at my costumed head. I blocked the blow and punched him in the face with a bulky paw. Everyone around us fell silent for a moment as if shocked to see the mascot defend himself. I grinned inside the costume.

  “I get the feeling you’re not the usual Bruno,” Magnum said. He checked his nose for blood, but the paw was padded enough that there wasn’t any.

  I stepped back so I could see if he tried to punch me again. “I get the feeling you’re sharper than you look,” I replied. “Although picking on concession workers makes you look as much an idiot as a bully.”

  He growled and rushed at me like a bear. He grabbed me around the middle and I fell over backwards. I kicked out when I hit the ground and sent him flying over my head into two other Bullets. I rolled to avoid a kick to the ribs, then jumped back to my feet in time to block the punches of two more attackers.

  I drove my padded fist into a stomach, spun and elbowed another person, then tripped a boy with a red Mohawk. The green-haired girl tried to hit me in the groin, so I caught her wrist and spun her into Magnum. He threw her aside toward one of the others and pulled out a butterfly knife. He flipped it open, then held out his other hand to the Mohawk boy. “Colt, your knife.”

  The boy quickly pulled the knife from his pocket and tossed it to Magnum. He caught it and spun it open. “No more games,” the Bullet leader growled with a dangerous look in his eyes.

  “Oh, so that’s why you’re called Bullets,” I replied. “You use knives.”

  His eyes narrowed and he came at me. I jumped back to avoid a swipe for my stomach, then ducked and felt one of the knives embed in my costumed head. I was immensely grateful there was a good half foot of padding between me and top of the head.

  Two Bullets picked me up from behind. I kicked back and caught one on the shin, then turned and kneed the second in the groin. Two others grabbed me and I pretended to fall back, but turned at the last second and landed on my knees, swiping my arms backward and knocking their legs out from under them. I jumped to my feet and blocked a kick from the girl with spikey hair, then grabbed her leg and backed her into two other Bullets.

  I turned and blocked another knife swipe from Magnum with my padded arm. My jacket and the costume were cut, but it didn’t reach my skin. Angry at the cheap shot, I chopped both arms down on Magnum’s knife hand. He dropped the blade and I kneed him in the stomach. When he doubled over, I did a spin kick and brought my full weight down on my heel on top of his back. He dropped to the ground with a huff of air. The other Bullets backed off. I glared at them with the rage that was roiling through me; I forgot about the fact that they couldn’t see my face.

  “The Bullets are through in Sparrow,” I said. My chest heaved from the exertion of fighting in a thick costume. “You can’t bully citizens and students without retaliation; you’ve gotten away with it for too long.”

  I walked away. It took every ounce of courage I possessed to turn my back on the four still-standing, though somewhat bruised, Bullets who were helping the others to their feet. I felt every eye in the stadium on me. A quick glance around showed that our fight held every person’s attention. Even the referees on the field had paused to watch the outcome. Apparently, it wasn’t every day that the mascot took on the town gang.

  Knowledge that I was in serious trouble if the Bullets regrouped and came after me hung heavy in my mind. I jogged to the far end of the field, then disappeared behind the stands. I took the small alley between the gymnasium and school and quickly changed out of the mascot outfit, then left it by the gym doors. With only a minor tear to the one arm, the mascot outfit was still in pretty good shape.

  I slipped through the parking lot to Uncle Rick’s truck and shoved my black jacket beneath the seat, then hurried back to the restroom. I was under the pretense of washing my hands when I heard the toilet flush in the last stall the real mascot occupied. “Your costume’s by the gym doors,” I said over the bathroom stall before I left. I fought back a grin as I walked up the stands to where Cassidy and Sandy sat.

  I took my hot dog from Cassidy and began eating. Then I noticed her flustered expression. “What?” I asked. “Did you want me to get you guys another one? Magnum might kick my butt after the motorcycle incident, but—”

  “Kelson, were you in the bathroom this whole time?” Cassidy demanded.

  I nodded. “Something about Aunt Lauren’s eggs this morning hasn’t been sitting right with me. Please don’t tell her. I’d hate—”

  “Kelson, will you listen to me?” Cassidy almost shouted.

  I gave her my most innocent expression. “What’s wrong, Cass?”

  Sandy saved me from her anger. “Someone beat up the Bullets while you were in the restroom. They’re not bugging the Snack Shack anymore.”

  “What?” I feigned surprise and looked in the direction of the concessions stand. Sure enough, the Bullets were gone. Several other people were pointing in the same direction and talking.

  “Someone beat up the entire gang?” I asked in a tone of heavy doubt. “No way.”

  “Way,” Sandy replied excitedly. “And he was wearing the Bulldog costume.”

  I let out a snort of disbelief. “No. That has to be some sort of joke. Nobody could take them on alone; no one would be stupid enough to.”

  Cassidy spoke up with a huff. “Kel, it was real. We saw him. Everybody saw him. I’ll bet the Bullets are killing him right now.”

  I nodded. “Probably. That must have been humiliating.”

  Cassidy sat back with a full smile on her face.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  She grinned. “I’ve never seen anything so funny. I’m sure it was recorded by about a hundred different cell phones, so at least we’ll be able to show you—” Her phone beeped, cutting her off. She glanced at it and laughed. “What do you know? Chelsea’s way ahead of me.”

  She held up her phone and showed me a still frame of a slightly fuzzy Bulldog mascot. She pushed play and I saw the entire fight from the third person. It was strange to see the mascot as he fought the assailants and realize it was me taking them down with such ruthless-looking efficiency. Even in the costume, the moves looked dangerous and precise, the moves of a fighter, not the attempt of some fumbling student.

  “Man, I wonder if that was Bruno,” Sandy breathed when the fight was over.

  As if on cue, the boy in the bathroom came running out wearing only boxers. Several members of the audience laughed.

  At the same time, the teacher I recognized from the lunchroom on my first day came hurrying over with the mascot costume in her arms. I realized I had forgotten to remove the knife from its head.

  All the students on our side of the small outdoor stadium watched Bruno’s scream of horror at his mutilated mascot costume. Students around me laughed as they recorded the encounter, but I felt a surge of relief. At least if Magnum saw the video, he couldn’t blame the attack on Bruno.

  I sat back in my seat and watched the game. For the first time, I found myself enjoying the tackles and runs, the passes and kicks.

  I wondered if Dad would have wanted me in football. The thought had been the one thing keeping me out of all sports but martial arts growing up. Fighting let out my frustrations and I didn’t feel Dad’s absence over my shoulder because he had never been a supporter of MMA. My life would have been a lot simpler if I had gone along with his wishes.

  THAT NIGHT, CASSIDY TRIED to talk me into going to the Homecom
ing Ball. “I won’t be any good at dancing,” I told her with a pointed look at my leg.

  “Hey, there’s finally someone here who’s old enough to drive legally, and I’m going to take advantage of it,” Cassidy shot back with her usual grin.

  I looked at Aunt Lauren for help, but she was all for it. “Oh, go have a good time. It’ll be good for you both to get out.” She tossed me the keys to Uncle Rick’s blue Ram.

  “I should probably drive something a little less new,” I protested.

  Aunt Lauren laughed. “If you scratch it, blame it on Cass. He’ll never get mad at his little girl.”

  “Hey!” Cassidy protested. Then she shrugged with a smile. “It’s true.”

  She directed me to Sandy’s house, and the girl practically flew out when we pulled up, wearing a blue sequined shirt and white pants.

  “New clothes?” Cassidy asked. “When did you go shopping?”

  “After the game,” Sandy replied. “I told my mom I had absolutely nothing to wear and made her take me to Allison’s.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that? Whoa!” Cassidy exclaimed when I turned up the road to the high school. “Where are you going?”

  “To the dance.”

  “We have a few more stops to make,” Sandy said with a grin.

  Cassidy pointed me down another road and we pulled up to a home where a girl with short blonde hair and a cowgirl hat ran out. Then Sandy directed me to three other houses. Soon, the truck was filled with excited, giggling girls who piled out when we reached the high school and loudly demanded to dance with me the instant we entered the gym.

  I searched desperately for Madelyn, but she was nowhere to be found. “Come on, Kel,” the blonde said, pulling me toward the dance floor.

  “He hurt his leg, Chantelle,” Cassidy replied, swooping to the rescue. “He’s just the chauffeur today.”