My Gym Teacher Is an Alien Overlord (6 page)

I wandered Main Street, my head whirling after my strange encounter. Christopher Talbot was alive. He must be up to something. Or had he hung up his mask and cape, as he claimed? He'd passed my Star Guy oath stress test, which was pretty conclusive. But even the toughest test could be outwitted. Hadn't Captain Kirk outsmarted the unwinnable Kobayashi Maru? Hadn't Parminder Chaudry scored a perfect 100 percent in the unbeatable mental arithmetic (non-calculator) test?

Zack had accused me of seeing supervillains everywhere. Was this another of those times? Christopher Talbot
had
been a supervillain, but only by accident—or so he said. I was confused. Usually I trusted my instincts, but I'd gotten it spectacularly wrong with Miss Dunham, and somewhere between the kids at school and my brother, I'd lost my confidence. What I needed was a second opinion. I took the bus out of the town center and headed for Serge's house.

• • •

Serge lived in a
cul-de-sac
, which is French. Perhaps his parents chose it because it reminded them of home. Two bicycles lay in the driveway. I recognized Serge's Peugeot mountain bike, but there was also a sleek racer that I hadn't seen before, with upgraded Shimano pedals and carbon-rimmed wheels.

I couldn't ring the doorbell, in case his
maman
was home, so I snuck around the back. Serge's bedroom overlooked a small yard with a statue of a winged boy that peed into a round pond. When we first met, we'd figured out that his bedroom window faced mine, and we'd spent a week and a half, each standing in our own house, waving and shining increasingly bright lights to establish if we could see one another. We could not. There was no direct line of sight, and we were separated by 2.3 miles of suburb.

I cupped my hands to my mouth and hooted like an owl. It wasn't a prearranged signal or anything; it just felt like the right thing to do. After a few more hoots, Serge appeared. He unlatched the window and threw it open.

“Ah, I thought it must be you,” he said in a low voice. “What are you doing here?”

I was about to reply when another figure joined him at the window. I could barely believe my eyes. It was Josh Khan. The grinning architect of my misery. With my best friend.

“Well, if it isn't Luke Pie-walker himself.” Josh cackled.

“That isn't funny,” I said. “It doesn't even make sense.”

“Of course it's funny,” he said with a snarl. “Steve, tell him it's funny.”

Steve? Who was he calling Steve?

Serge looked from Josh to me and back again. “Ah, I would not like to say. I often struggle with your clever English wordplay. A lot of it does not translate, you know.”

I could see that Josh didn't care. “Whatever. I've got better things to do than waste my time talking to a loser like Cry-walker here.
Cry-walker
. Now that is funny. Come on, Steve.” He disappeared back into the room. Serge lingered at the window.

“Steve?” I said.

Serge grimaced. “He was not listening properly when we were introduced, and it has gone on so long now that it would be impolite to correct him. And possibly hazardous.”

I couldn't get my head around what had happened. “When did you two even become friends?”

“Our
mamans
put us together. They believed it would be a good idea. His family once spent a week at a
gîte
in Brittany.” He shrugged. “I have been stuck playing
Puny Earthlings!
with him since the commencement of the break.”

Serge had teamed up with my worst enemy to play the game I so desperately wanted to win. “Have you defeated Star Guy yet?” I asked, holding my breath as I awaited the answer.

“
Non
,” said Serge. “It is that force field of his. It protects both him and Dark Flutter, and it is impenetrable.”

Good. Victory was still up for grabs. At least that was something. I was about to tell him about Christopher Talbot when I heard the rattle of a car engine in the driveway.

“It is my
maman
,” cried Serge. “She has returned from Zumba.”

“Where's Zumba?”

“It is not a where; it is a what. But that is not important right now. You must disappear,
immédiatement
.”

“Don't worry, I'm like Batman,” I said. “Silent, undetectable, invisi—”

“Luke.”

“OK, OK, I'm going.” I paused. “But I need to talk to you about something important. Meet me in the tree house tonight.”

“I cannot. You know that.”

“Serge, listen to me. Christopher Talbot is alive. And I think he's plotting a comeback. Anyway, I need you.”

In the silence that followed, the only sound was water whizzing from the statue of the winged boy.

“STEVE!” Josh's voice boomed. “I'M WAITING!”

“I am sorry,” said Serge. And before I could object, he tugged the window shut and was gone.

I trudged home with a heavy heart. How could Serge do this to me? What had the world come to, when he'd rather hang out with Josh Khan than join me in the tree house to hatch an overly complicated plan to thwart a potential supervillain?

If he wasn't going to help, then perhaps another member of the old gang would. A little over half an hour later, I found myself on Lara's doorstep. Her big sister (and the object of Zack's affection), Cara, opened the door.

Cara was fourteen and dangerous. Not the “poisonous bite” or “razor-sharp claws” kind of danger, but the kind that takes a long look at the world and says, “Out of my way—I'm coming through.” She had sleek black hair and blue fingernails. She wore a glittering nose stud, and there was a rumor she'd gone by herself to a music festival in a field. She was as tall as Finn Stanton, captain of the school football team, and she had a Viking boyfriend called Matthias, who'd once met someone who'd seen Nebula from
Guardians of the Galaxy
in a Walgreens.

She tugged out her earbuds. I got a blast of the new Billy Dark album. “Hey, kid.” Cara had a low-slung voice, and her words seemed to slide out as if they'd been slouching on beanbags, waiting for a shove. She called me
kid
these days. I think it was because she couldn't remember my name, but I kind of liked it anyway.

“Hi, Cara. Is Lara in?”

“Yeah. For a change.” She shook her head. “I've never known anyone who spent as much time at the library as my sis. She's turned into a serious bookworm.”

So Lara was using the same cover story as Zack, pretending to be studying when she was in fact out performing heroic feats, faster than a speeding squirrel.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said. “My brother's at the library all the time. In fact, he's there
so
often I'd call him a book-
sand
worm. That's a really huge kind of worm. From Arrakis, the desert planet, source of the spice melange. Actually, they're more like a lamprey than a—”

“She's in her room,” Cara said abruptly, standing aside to let me past.

I trotted upstairs to Lara's bedroom and was raising my fist to knock when the door flew open. She stood there clutching a gym bag, which I knew contained her Dark Flutter costume.

“Luke, hi. I'm really sorry, but I'm just going out.” She patted the gym bag. “Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's
me
.” She smiled. “You know how it is.” She swept past me to the top of the stairs. “Off to the library,” she said in a loud voice for the benefit of her big sister. Cara was below in the hall, smooching with her boyfriend, Matthias the Viking, in front of a coatrack.

“Can it wait a minute?” I said in an urgent whisper. “This is important.”

She hesitated. “Let me check.” With that, she closed her eyes.

I knew instantly what was going on: she was communicating telepathically with Zack. I felt a prickle of envy.

“Zack says I can have five minutes.”

“That's nice of him,” I said tightly. “I didn't know you'd started doing that together.”

“Telepathic communication? Oh, yes. Why bother with phones or squirrels when you can just think to each other, right?”

“Right.”

“And maybe once we've discussed your important business,” said Lara with a nervous smile, “I can tell you about mine? I really need to talk to you, Luke. Only you.”

“Sure.” I glanced down at the canoodling couple, concerned that they might overhear our conversation. “Perhaps we should continue this in private?” I turned to her bedroom. The door was ajar.

“Uh, no, you can't go in there.” She threw herself between me and the door.

“Why not?” I squinted past her through the gap. Her room looked remarkably spick-and-span. I had a suspicion that was immediately confirmed by the flash of a bobbed tail. “Are you using woodland creatures to tidy your room?”

“No.”

“Lara?”

“OK, OK. So maybe. Please don't tell Zack. He says using your powers for anything other than heroic acts is a slippery slope to the dark side.”

I fumed.
He
hadn't said that;
I
had.

There was a squeak at our feet. A gray rabbit crouched in the doorway.

“No, the red top can go in the dresser drawer,” said Lara. The rabbit hopped back into the bedroom. “Now, what was it you had to tell me?”

I filled her in on my encounter with Christopher Talbot. When I'd finished, she thought for a moment and then said, “You should tell Zack. It sounds important, and I'm sure he'll be right on it.” She touched my arm. “Luke, I'm glad you came. We really haven't had a chance to talk in ages. So much has happened.” She paused. “Y'know, it's funny, but at first when Zorbon gave me my superpower, I was frightened. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a superhero. But then Zack said something that helped me understand.
Not everyone is meant to make a difference, but for me the choice to lead an ordinary life is no longer an option
. Isn't that amazing? Your brother is so wise.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “It was Spider-Man,” I spluttered. “
Spider-Man
said that. Not
Zack
.”

“Well, anyway, Zack was wise to repeat it.” Lara's eyes shone. “And now I love being Dark Flutter. When I'm older I'm going to be a vet during the day and Dark Flutter the rest of the time. I'll be able to ask a Labrador where it hurts, show a swan the right exercises for that broken wing. I can't wait for the rest of my life to begin. Can you?”

“
Can't wait,
” I mumbled. To me the thought of growing up was filled with anxieties about school, girls, and melting polar ice caps. Mostly the future felt like a big, scary secret that no one would let me in on. It was all right for Lara and Zack—they had a purpose, a shield to protect them against the unknown. Me? I was defenseless and completely clueless.

“But there is one thing . . .” began Lara. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “I don't know quite how to say this. You and I have been through a lot together. You're like my—oh, hang on.”

Zack was calling again, asking for an ETA. Our time had come to an end. Lara had to fly.

“Mustn't fiddle while foam burns,” she said.

“Rome,” I said with a sigh. “It's while
Rome
burns.”

She shot me a puzzled look. “It's a fire in a mattress factory.”

I left her so she could go be super-heroic, and walked the short distance home, feeling wretched. She hadn't finished her sentence. “You're like my—” What? Dorky neighbor? Weirdo friend? As I hung up my coat in the hallway, unkind thoughts swirled in my head. She was so full of herself, but really, what a ridiculous superpower. The ability to talk to hedgehogs—ooh, how amazing. And listening to her
go on
about Zack, how he's so understanding and
wise
. Resentment boiled over like a forgotten pot of spaghetti. There was only one thing to do: I needed to play
Puny Earthlings!
and blast them both out of the sky. Right now.

In the living room, my dad was Skyping his dad in Scotland. When I was little, my grandparents wanted to see me a lot, so every afternoon I'd be propped in front of an iPad while they made goo-goo noises and pulled faces. For years I thought they were an app.

My dad still talked to his dad when he needed advice. They were discussing Dad's job situation. I knew he'd applied for a new one but hadn't heard anything back yet, which meant he'd be at home the whole week. Usually, old Mrs. Wilson from next door looked after us during vacations. She's deaf in one ear, only wears slippers, and has the vision of a mole. In other words, the perfect sitter. But based on yesterday's epic gaming session, Dad was going to be much more fun.

“There's my favorite grandson!” bellowed Grandpa Bernard from the screen as I entered the camera's field of view.

“Dad,” said my dad. “You can't have favorites.”

I didn't care. I was glad to be someone's favorite.

“Uh, I know that,” said Grandpa. “But look at the boy.” He beamed. “So how's life with you, Zack?”

Zack?
Zack?!
Even
he
preferred my big brother.

Dad told Grandpa Bernard to adjust his glasses, and after that he mumbled an apology. We chatted for a while. He and Grandma were coming to visit soon for my cousin Jenny's wedding. The reception was going to be held at the golf club, and I had to wear a suit and pinchy shoes. There was no getting out of it. It was the Van Kull Maximum Security Facility of weddings.

We said good-bye and put down the iPad. “How about a game of
Puny Earthlings!
?” I suggested to Dad.

“Ah,” he said.

That didn't sound good. Concerned, I glanced under the TV. Instead of my Xbox there was now a console-shaped hole. “Where is it?”

“Ah,” repeated Dad. “You know how your mother never suspected a thing about our gaming session yesterday?”

My face fell. “Oh no . . .” She knew. She
always
knew. This was awful. “When did she say I could have it back?”

Dad squirmed. “You can't.”

“Where is it? Where did you put it? In the hall cupboard? Your room?”

“On eBay.”

“No! You can't. It's mine. I—” I felt hot tears prick my eyes. This was so unfair.

“Luke, son, it's not Mom's fault; it's mine. I shouldn't have let you play with it. But I was feeling sorry for myself and . . . I'm not sure if video games are actually dangerous, but I do know that they're a real time-suck. I lost some of the best years of my life to something called
Half-Life
.” He looked dazed. “One minute I'm battling Vortigaunts at Black Mesa, and the next thing I know I'm picking tableware with your mother for our wedding registry.”

I was too angry to hear him. All I knew was that he was selling my Xbox. “Is this because you need the money now that you're unemployed?” It was a cruel thing to say, and I regretted it immediately.

Dad's face crumpled. He looked like he'd been struck by a super-aging ray. I tried to say sorry, but the words stuck in my throat. I fled to my room.

I slammed the door and flung myself onto my bed, fuming at the injustice of the world. All of the people I trusted had let me down. No one in my life understood me or had any idea what I was going through. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. The ticking of my Green Arrow alarm clock filled the silence. Although that wasn't entirely true.

There was one person.