How to Tame a Human Tornado

by Paul Tobin

  “Seriously,” Nate said, as I unromantically-spur-of-the-moment kissed him. “We should run.”

  We ran.

  Bosper and Minty were leading, because dogs run faster, and also because Minty knew the way. Nate and I were close behind, and there was Ventura and Wendy, and Stine, and Chester, who was stumbling with exhaustion and complaining about not being able to run very fast. I suppose the world did seem much slower to him, because he could now only run at about fifteen miles per hour, which is not very fast compared to his previous speeds, and which felt extremely slow owing to the series of explosions happening right behind us.

  Oh, I should mention the explosions.

  There were explosions happening behind us.

  The explosions were making explode-y noises, and we were all yelling and panicking and wondering which way to go as the underwater headquarters of the Red Death Tea Society began collapsing all around us, with the ceilings caving in, and the walls crumbling, and the lake waters rushing down through gaps from above. Bosper and Minty soon abandoned their lead positions and began running around us like herd dogs, making sure everyone stayed together and went in the right direction.

  “We did it!” I yelled, happy that we had once again beaten the Red Death Tea Society.

  “Your life is awesome!” Stine yelled. “I mean, as long as we don’t end up trapped in a watery tomb, this has been fun!”

  “We should get ice cream!” Ventura said. We were still in danger of being crushed by the falling debris, or drowned by the rushing waters, so it was a very silly time to be thinking about ice cream, or even about cake, although it wasn’t that far away from the time when ice cream and cake would become a priority, and it doesn’t hurt to plan ahead.

  But, first things first. We needed to escape, because the walls were cracking and crumbling, with hallways beginning to fill with rubble and water, so that we had to make detours, taking us farther out of our way, with the headquarters shuddering and shaking and collapsing, rocks bursting under the growing pressure and alarms blaring loudly and the dogs barking at us, nipping at our heels if we went the wrong way, tiny bites that were understandable under the circumstances but that we’d be discussing later.

  There were fires as machinery exploded. There were menacing rumbles more intense than thunder. There were never-ending avalanches of building materials and even of the bedrock the headquarters had been built within, and there were showers of mud, which is not a shower I would advise.

  Finally, we made it to the cavern with the mini-submarines. Without Chester to run us through the waters, and without Betsy to help us, we needed to grab one of the submarines. We raced across the docks to the nearest one. The cavern’s ceiling was collapsing, with rocks falling down from above to make blooping sounds in the underwater lake, and with boulders falling down from above to make BUHH-LOOOSHING sounds in the water, and even one boulder making a KEEE-RANNGG sound as it smashed into one of the submarines, violently tearing the vessel in half. The alarms were still sounding and bats were flying everywhere in panic and one of the walls collapsed into a big sliding avalanche of rock and mud, causing a small tsunami as it slammed into the water, a wave that washed up over the docks and sent us all tumbling. But we scrambled back to our feet, needing to hurry, needing to escape before the entire headquarters came crashing down upon us.

  Stine yelled, “Delphine, I totally take back my earlier comments on how your life is awesome! This is scary!”

  Ventura yelled, “I’m sticking with my earlier comments on how I want ice cream! I completely still do!”

  We raced across a wooden dock that had been partially destroyed by the wave and the avalanche, having to wade somewhat, as the dock was beginning to sink, but we managed to scramble up onto the submarine and then, helping Bosper and Minty, we opened the hatch and crawled down inside.

  We were safe.

  Unless one of those huge boulders fell on us or unless the entire cavern collapsed so there was no escape route and we’d be trapped down here forever.

  So . . . we were not so safe.

  And not so roomy, either, because the submarine was only built for three or four people at the most, and there was me, and Nate, and Wendy, and Stine, and Ventura, and Chester and two dogs. So, we were past maximum capacity, with little room to move around. Nate immediately went to the controls and started hitting buttons and entering commands on a keyboard, flicking switches and generally acting comfortable in his role of a submarine commander, as if it was something he did every day.

  “Let’s go!” I yelled, scrunched into one corner.

  “Agreed!” Ventura said, basically hanging from an overhead pipe in order to find room.

  “Full speed ahead!” Stine yelled, sitting on a control board, trying to find space.

  “Eeeeeeeee!” Twibble said, frantically pulling at my hairs.

  “Eeeeeeeee!” I said, because there was a bat frantically pulling at my hairs.

  “Why’s your bat going crazy?” Wendy said. She was pressed all the way up against a wall, because the submarine was cramped.

  “Not sure!” I said. “Maybe she’s frightened of watching her old home be . . . be . . . oh dang.”

  “What?” Stine asked.

  But by then I was already scrambling up the ladder, hurrying back up to the hatch, which I opened. Then, with a look back down to the already horribly cramped conditions of the submarine, I told my friends, “Sorry about this.”

  And I was sorry. I was so sorry.

  Then, looking up to the cavern’s collapsing ceiling, with boulders falling everywhere and with the vast lake above us starting to burst through, I yelled out, “C’mon, guys! Let’s get out of here!”

  I was talking to the bats.

  Instantly, the immense swarm of hundreds of bats dove for the submarine, flying down past me through the hatch, brushing up against me, of course, so that it felt like I was taking a shower of bats, which is another type of shower I would advise against.

  Then, when all the bats were inside, and with Twibble now pleased, I resealed the hatch and climbed back down.

  “I invited some bats to come with us,” I said. There were bats clinging to every wall. There were bats hanging from every pipe. There were bats clinging everywhere, which of course meant they were clinging to Stine, and Wendy, and Chester and Ventura, and even Bosper and Minty.

  “I noticed,” Stine said, twitching. She probably had thirty bats hanging off her.

  “Guhhh,” Wendy said, trembling. I’d say . . . fifty bats on her.

  “There!” Nate said, stepping back from the control board. “We’re ready to go!” There were zero bats hanging off him. Not a single one.

  “Why aren’t there any bats on you?” I asked.

  “ ‘Bat-block’ lotion,” he told me. “It’s like sunblock, except instead of protecting me from sunburn, it safeguards me from bats.”

  “And, was there enough of this ‘bat-tan’ lotion to share?” I asked, while possibly narrowing my eyes and definitely being covered in bats.

  “Oh, I should have made enough for everyone!” Nate said, obviously considering the notion for the first time, despite how it’s always time to think of protecting your friends from becoming encased in bats. Bosper, currently looking like a pile of bats with a terrier’s tail sticking out, let out a muffled murmur that he would’ve appreciated some lotion as well.

  “Oh well,” Nate said. “Here’s this instead.” And he leaned closer and kissed me right on the lips, or at least partially on my lips because one of the bats on my face didn’t manage to shuffle aside in time.

  “What was that for?” I asked in shock, sputtering in surprise after barely returning his kiss at all.

  “Because I’m happy, I guess?” Nate said, seeming like he was as puzzled and shocked by the kiss as I was, since we are definitely not anything more than friends. “It’s just that, for a while there, I thought I was going to have to join the Red Death Tea Society, and then I wouldn’t have b
een able to be with you, and . . . strange as this sounds . . . I was glad when Maculte said he was going to disintegrate you.”

  “That does sound strange,” I said. I looked over to Stine. She nodded. Yep. Definitely strange.

  Nate continued, “Because that meant that Maculte was going back on his word. My vow to join the Red Death Tea Society was conditional on him letting everyone go, which he wasn’t doing. So, I was released from my promise.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Right. I suppose it was actually a good thing, me nearly getting disintegrated.”

  “It was wonderful!” Nate said. “Now I don’t have to join the assassins! And, Delphine, I’m sorry I kissed you out of the blue, but I was just so happy, and, uh, I suppose there’s something important I should tell you, right now.” He was suddenly looking very serious. Staring at me. Staring right into my eyes. Unwavering. His own eyes held a wealth of importance and knowledge. I’m forever fascinated by Nate’s eyes, but this time they seemed more magnetic than ever, drawing me closer.

  “Yes?” I said. He leaned closer.

  “Delphine,” he said. “I’ve been thinking, and, well, there’s something you should know.”

  “Okay,” I said. He’d moved in even closer. His lips were so close to mine. I could feel all my friends staring at us. I could feel all the bats clinging to me. I could feel my skin tingling. I wondered if Nate was going to kiss me again. It wouldn’t be a surprise, this time, but it would still be a shock. If he tried, I was going to have to remind him that we were only friends. But I’d do it after the kiss, I guess. Just in case.

  “Delphine,” he said. Nothing more than my name, but it sounded like everything, to me.

  “Yes?” His lips were almost on mine. I could feel his warmth. I could feel my heart beating. I could feel—

  “If we don’t leave right now,” Nate said, “I predict a 98.49 percent chance that we’ll be crushed when the cavern collapses.”

  “Oh,” I said, a bit stunned. I looked to Wendy.

  “Oh,” she said, equally stunned.

  I looked to Stine.

  “Oh,” she said, a bit bewildered.

  I looked to Bosper.

  “Pfft,” he farted, and that was enough to finally shake me from my daze.

  “OH!” I yelled. And I leaped for the submarine’s controls as, down at my feet, the bats all fluttered away from Bosper. “Nate! What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

  Weeks passed.

  My obstacle course had new regulars. Liz and Wendy and Stine and Ventura came over all the time, hurtling and balancing and throwing and holding their breath and punching and doing all the other things necessary to pass the increasingly difficult challenges I presented, because they wanted to get into shape for any further adventures, and also because they couldn’t have any cake or pie until they’d passed their daily tests.

  Bosper and Minty romped all over Polt, snuggling and barking and doing all the other things that dogs in love do together, such as one of them talking about math while the other one chomps on banana peels she found in a garbage can.

  I spent a lot of time wondering if I should ever tell my parents that I was fighting an international society of genius-level assassins, and decided that it probably wasn’t the wisest course of action. I spent an equal amount of time wondering if I should turn my brother Steve back into a zebra forever, and decided that I should definitely go for it.

  Meanwhile, somewhere out in the world, I knew that Maculte and Luria and the Red Death Tea Society members were planning more plans, scheming more schemes, and drinking thousands more gallons of truly terrible tea. Maculte, with his ego, was undoubtedly confident that he could defeat us the next time around. He wouldn’t have been so confident, though, if he’d known that Stine could now hold her breath for over three minutes, or that Wendy could walk across a tightrope on her hands, or that Ventura’s quick mind had memorized all three hundred and twelve ice cream flavors available in the entire city of Polt. Plus, Melville was practicing stinging, and Twibble was learning new evasive maneuvers, and Bosper was in such a good mood that his mind was racing in all directions, solving math problems that even Nate was struggling to understand. Liz, meanwhile, was organizing all of the inventions that Nate had ever made, including several hundred that he’d totally forgotten, such as a bottle of “Earlobe Enlargement” pills and a toothbrush with octopus tentacles instead of bristles, so that it could sneak into your bedroom and scrub your teeth while you slept.

  In other words, the Red Death Tea Society would be foolish to challenge us.

  That said, for a group of geniuses, they’d proven to be plenty foolish in the past, so I was always ready to go, alert for Nate’s call, with my adventure bag fully stocked with everything I could possibly need.

  When my phone rang, I was in the kitchen with Mom, having just baked an experimental strawberry cake with pineapple frosting. I had a freshly sliced piece on my plate and my fork in hand. I dropped the fork and grabbed my phone.

  “You’re choosing a phone call over cake?” my mom said, amazed. Then she glanced at my phone and saw who was calling, and she smiled and added, “Oh. I see. It’s Nate.” There was . . . a certain way she said it.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.

  “Oh, it’s just, you know, Nate.” She still had that certain tone in her voice, but I couldn’t worry about that. I answered my phone.

  “Delphine!” Nate said. He also had a certain tone in his voice. It was the very specific Nate Bannister tone that meant something had gone horribly wrong, and I suppose that there must be something horribly wrong with me, because I found it very exciting.

  “What’s going on?” I said, hurrying to my room for privacy.

  “I may have done something . . . not so smart,” he said. “But I didn’t think my latest invention would escape, and also there’s a Red Death Tea Society robot attacking my treehouse, and I made these new pills that, umm, well . . . have you seen today’s date?”

  “Of course,” I said, putting on my jetbelt while looking at the calendar on my wall, the one where Friday the thirteenth was circled several times, and where I’d added a huge exclamation mark.

  “I’m on the way,” I told Nate.

  Acknowledgments

  No book gets written in a vacuum. At least not until we have space-authors floating alone through the universe, drifting through galaxy after galaxy while tapping on a computer keyboard and wondering how far it is until the next decent place to buy a cookie. For now, though, we authors are always part of a vast group of people who help bring our stories to life and novels to print. For me, first off, big thanks to Cindy Loh and Allison Moore at Bloomsbury, who are always there for me, championing my work. And high fives to all the others at Bloomsbury as well, for all their help in editing, proofing, nodding their heads when I needed it, shaking their heads when the book needed it, and for loving the craft of writing as much as I do.

  Thanks to my agent, Brooks Sherman, for his always sage advice, and for dressing so nattily. You are an inspiration, sir.

  Shout-out to all those at Rocking Frog and Floyd’s and at all the other cafés where I write. Without those sandwiches and cookies, I would probably starve. Although, would it hurt you to put some pancakes on the menu? Think about it, guys.

  Big thanks, most of all, to all my readers, whether for my Genius Factor series, or my Bandette or Plants vs. Zombies comics, or any and all of my other projects, because without readers I would just be a crazy person writing in an alleyway, instead of what I am today, a crazy person writing two stories above an alleyway.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Paul Tobin

  Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Thierry Lafontaine

  All rights reserved

  You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording o
r otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  First published in the United States of America in March 2018 by Bloomsbury Children’s Books

  www.bloomsbury.com

  This electronic edition published in 2018 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018 Bloomsbury books may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at specialmarkets@macmillan.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Tobin, Paul, author.

  Title: How to tame a human tornado / by Paul Tobin.

  Description: New York : Bloomsbury, 2018. | Series: The genius factor

  Summary: On Friday the thirteenth Nate, trying to avoid the Red Death Tea Society, has concealed his experiments throughout the town of Polt, but soon things go very, very wrong.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017022567 (print) | LCCN 2017038087 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-1-6196-3899-0 (HB)

  ISBN: 978-1-6196-3900-3 (eBook)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Science—Experiments—Fiction. | Genius—Fiction. | Humorous stories.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.T6 Ht 2018 (print) |LCC PZ7.1.T6 (e-book) | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017022567

  Book design by John Candell and Jeanette Levy

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