SuperZero

by Jane De Suza

  ‘Nooo,’ shouted a man in a lab coat and mask, ‘not again! Why does this kid love swimming in our cow dung?’

  But I’d thrown myself into the gigantic pot. ‘Here Kitty,’ I called to the bees, ‘come and bite me.’ (Okay, so I must admit, in times of stress, I call every animal ‘Kitty’—it’s a stupid habit, yes). And of course, all the bees, programmed as they were to sting their target, came flying in after me, into that mucky, yucky pot. What happened was that they got completely stuck, their wings coated, and as all of them swooped in, they just sank deeper and deeper and were buried in that cow dung. I’d never loved cow dung so much! Or BigaByte so much. BigaByte—he knew what he had to do by now—had chewed a big hole into the side of the pot so I could climb out.

  ‘Nooo,’ cried the man in the lab coat, ‘we just had the last hole repaired!’

  Tara Rumpum had also rushed in by then, aiming the camera so everyone could see what had happened on TV. I was a hero. Finally!

  Tara Rumpum clapped her hands. ‘Brilliant! SuperZero, that was brilliant! What genius thinking! However did you think that up?’

  ‘To trap a bee, you’ve got to just think like a bee,’ I said, shrugging modestly, till BigaByte gave me a slight nip on my ankle. ‘Ow, I mean, you’ve got to think like a dog.’ I glared at him. Typical of everyone around me to try and take away my glory—first Blank, now BigaByte.

  ‘The city is so proud of you!’ Tara Rumpum gushed. ‘You’ve saved the most important news maker in this city—er—that is, me, and on behalf of all the good people everywhere, who can now come out of their homes, I am going to give you—a hug!’

  Tara Rumpum threw her helmet off and came towards me, arms outstretched, while I grinned happily. I closed my eyes, waiting for the hug, which never came. I opened my eyes to see Tara Rumpum holding her nose, gagging. ‘Ugh, the smell! On second thought, let’s give you that hug a little later, okay? After a week of scented baths.’

  She turned towards the rolling camera and smiled broadly. ‘Good people, emerge from your holes, your homes, your offices. Come out and celebrate, for we have saved the city!’

  We?

  I was feeling quite annoyed at my grand moment being snatched away, and my hug too. So I closed my eyes and got that red-hot glow going, going, going—a huge ball of the cow dung from the pot just rose in a jet and flew across to splash across Tara Rumpum.

  Ha, superpowers are pretty useful! Glaring at each other, Tara Rumpum and I made our way back to the city centre.

  29. Every story needs to end with a big fight

  The streets were full of people this time. People who had come out of their houses and offices ran towards us. I was lifted up on the shoulders of strangers to be carried like a hero towards the city centre. (Except that no one carried me very long, because of the smell. They just quickly handed me over to the next eager, strong shoulder.)

  BigaByte was also pampered silly, and people kept throwing him all sorts of things to eat. It started with biscuits and bread, which he swallowed in a gulp, till they began to get the idea, and threw anything at all—flowers, tomatoes, shoes, hats—and BigaByte sportingly ate all of them up.

  Then, we finally reached the city centre, and the big dream came crashing down.

  We’d forgotten all about evil Eggster, who stood in the middle of the crowd holding an old man by his arm. Gra! Gra must have wandered back, instead of finding his way home, and got lost. His bandages were falling off, and he looked terribly confused.

  ‘I can’t believe it . . . after all these years!’ Eggster shouted to the crowds. ‘I have found my arch-enemy. The once powerful Grazor—look at him now. Now, we will have the fight of all fights! Put up your fists!’

  Gra seemed to be more interested in pulling off the remaining bandages.

  ‘Fight, fight!’ shouted Eggster, hopping around with his fists up.

  ‘Of course they’re tight,’ grumbled Gra. ‘You’re much too round. You shouldn’t wear such tight clothes and complain later!’

  Eggster stopped. ‘Are you being funny?’

  ‘Very!’ said Gra, ‘very, very, very sunny. And these bandages are making me feel even hotter.’

  The crowd looked on silently. Many of the older people remembered the great days of the Grazor—could this really be the legendary superhero?

  Eggster was getting more and more heated up. Then he suddenly swung out without warning and knocked Gra in the jaw, and I saw my kind old grandpa go tottering, his knees buckling, looking very puzzled. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I jumped into the middle of the crowd and yelled, ‘Get away from him, you big bully!’

  ‘My grandson! I found you!’ said Gra delightedly, straightening up again.

  ‘The frost-free freezer!’ Eggster’s jaw dropped. ‘You are the Grazor’s grandson?’

  The crowd gasped again.

  I went charging at Eggster, my head lowered like a bull, and butted him in his stomach. But it was so well-padded that I just ended up bouncing back. Eggster laughed and grabbed my cape, with which he swung me round and round like a lasso. When he let me go, I went hurtling into the lamp post—oooh, that hurt!

  Lying dazed, I looked up to see Eggster pull out a dagger, and once more the crowd gasped. (Crowds always do this thing—gasp—that’s all they’re good at.) He pointed it towards Gra.

  ‘No,’ I shouted. ‘No, leave him alone. Come and get me!’

  By now, even the superkids had arrived. Anna Conda shouted, ‘Go, SuperZero, go!’ But a buzz in my ear told me otherwise.

  ‘Let it go, SuperZero, just stay out of this. This is an old fight that needs to be settled now.’ The Fly, always wise, nodded sadly.

  ‘No,’ I cried, close to tears, ‘you don’t understand. He is not that great hero any more. He’s forgotten it all. He’s just the sweetest old man in the world now.’

  Eggster waved the dagger at Gra, in front of all those people. ‘For thirty years, I have dreamed of doing this, Grazor! Now it will end here and I will finally be the winner.’ He advanced on Gra, who looked back at him, not understanding anything at all.

  I closed my eyes then and used the superpower that I had inherited from the sweetest old man in the world.

  The crowd burst out laughing. Eggster’s dagger had turned into an orange carrot! He stared at it.

  A voice cut into the laughter. Tara Rumpum got back to reporting. ‘This is the work of the wonder boy—our city’s newest, super-est hero. The funny boy who does funny things—to things. A dagger into a carrot! What genius! SuperZero, everyone—give him a hand!’ And in the applause that started, no one expected the absolutely enraged Eggster to dive out towards me. He whipped out his gun and held it to my throat. ‘Don’t anyone come near!’ He shouted. ‘This boy has been spoiling my plans from the beginning. Like grandfather, like grandson. I will have no fun killing that old man but now—this boy—yes—he has to die!’

  Eggster continued his screeching, ‘Don’t anyone take a step forward or I shoot him.’ I saw the crowd wide-eyed, but helpless. Anna Conda was in tears, Blank in patches. The gun poked at my throat. I was choking. And when you’re choking, you can’t really think straight. No. Boxes wouldn’t help now, nor would fountains. It wasn’t fair. I had just turned into a superhero—I couldn’t possibly have the shortest superhero stint in the history of all heroes. But when Eggster’s finger began to tighten on the trigger, something unbelievable happened.

  The lamp post behind us bent itself in half and whammed Eggster good and proper right across his egg head! He left me, fell backwards and blacked out.

  I stared in disbelief. I knew for sure that I had done nothing this time. I had been too busy choking. The Fly? No, that wasn’t his superpower—no one else had this rare power of molly-whatever. Only me, and of course, all those years back, the Grazor.

  The Grazor? I turned slowly towards Gra, who stood over me, smiling. He put out a wrinkled hand to help me up.

  ‘You? You did that? You can stil
l do that?’ I whispered.

  ‘What hat? Oh yes, it really is sunny, must find my hat,’ Gra said. And then he looked me straight in the eye for one moment—that stood still—and winked.

  We left the place, walking home hand-in-hand (and hand-in-paw too, since BigaByte wouldn’t be left out of this). I saw the police leading Eggster away, and the cameras kept recording every last bit.

  30. Some things should always be a secret

  About a week later, the Superhero School held a big public ceremony. Each batch had graduated from one level to the other. It drew masses of people even from neighbouring towns to cheer on the kids who had saved the day. The large field in front of the school building was packed with chairs, and when the seating ran out, people thronged the aisles, the sides, the back, climbed on walls and trees and even the tops of cars parked outside. Mom was given a chair right in the front row, her concussed head covered in a huge flowery turban. Vamp Iyer, too, was out of hospital, still vowing never to touch a drop of blood, much to his father, Vamp Iyer Senior’s despair. Whatever would happen to the blood-sucking bloodline? A milk tooth on a vampire? It brought shame to the entire clan!

  Double-Headmistress swept in majestically. She’d survived! She came straight up to me and hugged me.

  Head 1: Thank you, SuperZero, on behalf of myself and Head 2.

  Head 2: Thank you, Head 1, but I can speak for myself.

  Before they started the whole thing again, a buzz announced: ‘You did good, boy. I never did doubt you, not even for an instant. And never let me catch you doubting yourself again.’

  ‘But I was such a loser. Did you really know I’d turn out super?’ I whispered.

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Then how come you believed in me?’

  ‘Everyone is good at something, SuperZero. And every kid needs someone to believe in him.’ He stopped and sighed. ‘I’m having this problem with a kid penguin now. He doesn’t know just how grand a dancer he is.’

  ‘Hey, that’s a film. I saw it,’ I said. What—does everyone take their ideas off TV?

  There was a makeshift stage set up in front of the school building for the graduation awards. I saw the camera van and Tara Rumpum, reporting dunno what even before the event had begun. The Mayor, who was our chief guest, drove in then, and flagged off the ceremony.

  They had seated Gra right in front on a big silver throne chair. He had his Chinese straw hat on. Mom and Dad sat on either side of him. Even BigaByte had a chair of his own, which to my dismay, he’d begun to chew on.

  The superkids all lined up on either side of the stage. The seniors got on first and received a wild round of applause as Double-Headmistress thanked all their teachers, and mentioned all the great things they’d done. I did my thing with my new red-beam power when TRex came on, and his medal flew right out of the Mayor’s hands. TRex had to jump up to grab it, but it hopped around just a little out of his reach. Ya, ya, I know I was being silly!

  The high-schoolers, the mid-schoolers, the junior superkids were on next, and they all got applauded. And then it was time for us freshers.

  Double-Headmistress went on and on about each kid’s brilliance and potential, blah, blah. Nineteen odes to nineteen little first-time heroes were read out: Anna Conda, Slime Joos, Blank (whom no one even saw because he was so shy; only his pink, blushing cheeks were visible), Vamp Iyer, Lizzie Lizard—and the others from our batch, all hoping to be heroes one day, but not quite there yet.

  Head 1: Blah, blah

  Head 2: Blah, blah

  Head 1: Blah, blah, SuperZero, blah

  What was that? The whole crowd rose to their feet cheering. I guess it was my time so I stood up and took a bow.

  Head 1: ‘And this young man had shown us what true promise is. He never gave up . . . he never listened to those who tried to stop him.’

  Head 2: ‘Exactly like you . . . hush, my lines now . . . and he brought pride to his legendary grandfather, the one and only Grazoooooor!!!’

  The crowd erupted wildly. Roses were thrown in the air.

  Head 1: ‘Will the Grazor please come up to stage? Will the . . . Grazor! Grazor!’

  The crowd fell silent and in the silence, a snore rose from the throne seat. Gra had fallen asleep!

  Head 1: ‘Before we end, we must tell you all that this has been one of the finest weeks in the history of this city. Eggster has been captured and is in jail, and the bees have been destroyed in the cow dung . . .’

  Head 2: ‘. . . though the biogas lab has put up a “No Swimming in our Cow Dung” sign.’

  Head 1: ‘And the only mystery that remains is how our dear teachers got so violently sick. Especially poor Masterror, who has been squirming in pain ever since.’ (I saw Dad grinning at me and I grinned back, letting out a secret whoopee).

  Head 2: ‘Who poisoned them?’

  ‘Me!’ Tara Rumpum declared, jumping on to the stage. ‘Ask me!’

  Was the reporter actually claiming she’d poisoned the staff? What would the people of the press not do for a good story? But really . . . poison?

  Tara Rumpum hollered on, ‘I know how. I, who have brought you the latest action, unsung, unasked. Now you have only to ask me.’

  And then, in front of hundreds of people who watched agog (except for Gra, who was still fast asleep), Tara Rumpum held up a long stick on which, like a flag, waved a pair of underpants.

  What? Would she stop at nothing to get attention?

  ‘This, good people, is a pair of undies. This smelly, fungus-ridden purple underwear is what gave the teachers of Superhero School food poisoning. This was found in the water tank from which the staff room gets its drinking water. Someone threw them there, and they’ve been lying in the tank for months on end, fungused and stinking. It’s a wonder the teachers are all not dead by now.’

  I stared. Surely that was not . . .

  ‘Which pathetic person does this disgusting purple underwear belong to?’ screeched Tara Rumpum at the top of her voice.

  I slid lower in my chair, and hoped Mom wouldn’t yell ‘Poopykins’ or something like that. She did frown a bit, squinting hard, but didn’t, thankfully, say anything. I hoped the bump had dimmed her vision.

  I looked down at my shower curtain yellow duckie undies and sighed. Looks like they—with their zeroes—were here to stay. And as for my original purple undies and who threw them into the water tank . . . who knows? He or she was definitely not telling, and I was definitely not finding out.

  Some secrets, especially, if you’re a budding young superhero (now that you’ve heard my awesome tips) . . . some secrets should never be told.

  Superhero School

  ADMISSION FORM

  Q 1. Was your child born with a) tights b) undies c) cape d) mask e) any special mark?

  A. Child was born with a big frown. Kicked the doctor. Peed on his birth certi icate (his own birth certi icate, not the doctor’s).

  Q 2. Did your child get bitten by any suspicious creature?

  A. Child got bitten by neighbour’s child. (Neighbour denies it, which is why it is suspicious).

  Q 3. Does your child exhibit any strange behaviour?

  A. Child is very strange at all times. Believed till the age of four that he was a dinosaur, not human. Tries to turn his eyelids inside out. Pulls things out of his belly button and eats them.

  Q 4. What superpower does your child exhibit?

  A. Child turns lights on and off, turns wool into worms and turns everyone’s hair grey.

  Q 5. Does the child have superhero parent/s?

  A. Child has a supermom who has 15 hands and 20 eyes, or that’s the way it feels, with all the work around here!!!

  (signed Mom).

  Disclaimer:

  * Superhero School cannot be held responsible if anything happens to your child i.e. if he gets swallowed by another child, or gets turned into a polyp.

  * Children who discover their superpowers sometimes get so excited that they are still climbing w
alls up and down China.

  * Any child who breaks rules, or breaks teachers into two, will be sent home immediately.

  * Some celebrity children like SpiderEgg and BatDroppings are under celebrity management, and cannot be invited to birthday parties.

  * If your child turns out to have no super powers, or is allergic to spandex, please donate his or her tights to our Flying Saucer Foundation.

  Acknowledgements

  SuperZero was a twinkle in his mom’s eye when Niyati Dhuldhoya adopted him, fought for him and kicked him, and me, into action. This book is unconditionally hers. Pia Hazarika, for the cover, and Nimmy Chacko, whose round-the-clock dedication to this book finally drove her to the pub.

  Jit Chowdhury, for giving these characters life and ignoring the brief and budget. Asha Nehemiah, the kindest author I’ve met. Itisha Peerbhoy, fellow writer and fellow loon. Mita Kapur, who moonlights as my guardian angel. My readers, who keep asking for more.

  Finally, those who keep the cheerleading, the reading, the coffee going: my mother, my friends, my family. Suroop, without whom I’d be lost. My boys, Neel and Nikash, who coached me in superpowers and boy talk. (Cute is out. Wicked is in.)

  Thank you. The write’s been awesome! Epic! Wicked!

  About the Illustrator

  Jit Chowdhury draws everything except a monthly salary. He has his own studio in Kolkata, from where he takes freelance jobs and draws stuff he loves. He studied in the most prestigious art schools in India—Academy of Fine Arts, Kolkata, Srishti, Bangalore, and Design Institute, Indore. He also wrote and illustrated a column for a magazine, Kindle. If he’s angry with people, he draws horns on them.