The Candy Man Cometh (8 page)
So I just forged her signature.
I should’ve just told her I was going to be the official benchwarmer, because after tonight, I think that’s about all the coach would ever let me be.
And then a very funny thing happened.
No, my dad didn’t suddenly burst from the stands and fly into the sky like a superhero, nor did Prudence Cane stop cheerleading and ask me to the homecoming dance, nor did Mandrake Steel tell the coach that he should put me in the game.
What happened was, Mandrake Steel told the coach he should put me in the game.
Wait, did I say that
did
happen?
The coach had called a time-out, and there was Mandrake, the Charisma Kid, quarterback to the school team, my rival in the Sidekicks and a real pain in my butt outside the Sidekicks, trying to persuade the coach to let me play.
I was so stunned, I looked to the bleachers to see if my dad
was
flying! Heck, I figure if one miracle can happen, why not two? But he just waved to me, spilling his popcorn.
“Look, Coach, we need a touchdown to win, and I know that Guy messed up tonight, but what’ve we got to lose?” Mandrake asked.
“The game!” the coach shouted back. “It’s second down, we’ve got seventy yards to go, less than two minutes to play, and you want me to put in Guy?! Now?!”
“You’ve seen how fast he is! He’s done great in the practices and you know he would’ve started if he just got to the game on time. So he’s a bone-head! But he’s a bonehead who can run fast!”
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Charisma Kid had never been nice to me. Well, there was that one time he was nice to me, but that was just so he could trick me and then
not
be nice to me. This was totally weird. There had to be a reason... and then it hit me!
Someone found out Mandrake Steel is really Charisma Kid and they’re controlling his mind!
Mandrake leaned over to me and whispered, “I know you think someone found out I’m really Charisma Kid and they’re controlling my mind, but that’s not it.”
So much for that theory.
“So what’s up, then?” I whispered back.
“I just hate losing,” Mandrake answered. “I’ll get you that ball. You just do the rest.”
The coach looked at Mandrake. “This is our last time-out...”
“Don’t worry, Coach. I know he can do it,” Mandrake assured him. “And I wanted to mention it earlier, but that’s a very nice tie you’re wearing. I wish
my
dad could pick ties as nice as that.”
The coach smiled and looked down at his necktie. “Really? I wasn’t sure when I picked it out —”
“If you coach half as well as you pick ties, we’re going to have a championship season,” Mandrake said in that thick, syrupy voice he used when he was really pouring it on.
The coach suddenly looked at me. “Get in there, Guy!”
I grabbed my helmet and raced onto the field with Mandrake.
“You’re sure no one’s controlling your mind?” I asked again, still stunned at what just happened.
Mandrake didn’t answer me. He crowded into the huddle and called the play. I squeezed in between two linebackers. I felt like a doll crammed between two elephants. I was probably half the size of the other kids playing football. If it weren’t for my super speed, this would’ve been one painful idea!
“Okay! I-formation, split right, double hook option on three!” Mandrake spat like he was a general. Basically what he said in non-football English was, “I’m giving Guy the ball.”
“BREAK!” The team clapped their hands and broke from the huddle.
“You ready, Guy?” Mandrake asked.
“Am I!”
“Good. Good,” Mandrake said. The offensive line was getting into position.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The crowd was cheering wildly. Every player on both benches stood in silent anticipation. This was awesome! No. It was more than awesome. It was like something so awesome that you couldn’t even say how awesome it was,
that’s
how awesome this was. Even though I was a bug compared to all the other players on the field, there was no way they could catch me. All I had to do was use my super speed, zip around the defensive line, race past the defensive safeties, and win the game! The crowd would go wild! I’d be a hero and Prudence Cane would think I was totally cool! It was perfect. No. It was more than perfect. It was
awesome
!
Hurry up and give me the ball,
I thought as I bounced around in the backfield.
Mandrake prepared to start the play. “It’s just such a shame,” I heard him say to himself. I didn’t know if he was talking to me or what.
I had to know. “What?” I asked.
“It’s just a shame, that’s all.”
“What’s a shame? What are you talking about?” I was getting worried.
Mandrake sadly shook his head and patted me on the back. “I’m saying that it’s a shame, you getting kicked out of the Sidekicks.”
“WHAT?!”
“Well, you
know
that it’s against the League of Big Justice rules to use your powers for personal gain,” Mandrake explained innocently. “And I can’t think of anything more personal than using them to win a football game. And in front of all these people. King Justice’ll totally flip when he finds out.”
“He doesn’t need to find out!”
“You’re right, he doesn’t. But you know... somehow...I think he will.” Mandrake gave me a mean wink and a smile. He turned and faced the offensive line. “HIKE!” he shouted. The center snapped the ball into Mandrake’s waiting hands. He took three steps back, turned, and slapped the ball into my gut.
I looked up. The bodies of the massive opposing team charged toward me like angry bulls. They grunted, growled, and shouted. They wanted only one thing: to squash me into the ground.
Now I remembered why I hate Charisma Kid (a.k.a. Mandrake Steel).
Mandrake Steel — 7 Guy Martin — O
“Gunh!”
If you’re wondering what
“Gunh!”
is exactly, I can best describe it as the painful noise you make when four hooligans, each the size of a bus, pummel you into the ground.
I slowly pulled my limbs from the grassy surface and handed the referee the football. I could see the coach jumping up and down and shouting something that I was glad I couldn’t hear.
I was also glad I couldn’t read lips.
I had tried to avoid getting slaughtered by the other team, but without being able to use my super speed, it was pretty hopeless.
The clock was ticking. We quickly fell into a huddle.
“Same play,” Mandrake said.
“What?” one of the linemen shouted. “Are you nuts?”
“I want to run the same play,” Mandrake repeated.
“What?” one of the wide receivers shouted. “Are you nuts?”
“I really think Guy can do this,” Mandrake insisted.
“What?” I shouted. “Are you nuts?”
But it was too late. The huddle broke and we fell into formation. I watched the opposing team dig into their positions like hungry lions eager to leap on the idiot with the football and pummel him into the ground.
Unfortunately, I would be the idiot with the football.
“Hike!”
Mandrake fell back and slammed the ball into my gut. This time I used a little super speed. Not enough to get kicked out of the League of Big Justice, but just enough that I could maybe not become one with the earth again.
Two defensive tackles broke through the line. I dodged one, zipped around the other, and saw nothing but empty field between me and the end zone! Or maybe it would be better to say that I saw nothing but empty field between me and the end zone until a massive lineman introduced me to the grass. Face-first.
At least this time I gained four yards. So, add that to my loss of seven yards last play and I was only at negative three yards.
The coach was screaming on the sidelines. The clock ticked down to thirty seconds. We had to go seventy-three yards. It was fourth down. Mandrake called a quick huddle.
“Sorry, Guy,” he said and patted me on the helmet. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until next game to be the hero.”
At times like this, I really wish I didn’t have any super powers. My life would be so much easier, delivering flowers, not having to hear lame speeches about sacrifice, never getting tele-ported into the 97th dimension and forced to fight the two-dimensional people of Flatopia. The biggest evil I’d have to face would be a cranky customer who doesn’t tip.
But no. I had to wake up one day and run faster than a car. And then I had to wake up the next day and decide I wanted to save the world. And after that, I
still
had to wake up the third day and decide to join the Sidekicks. Man, why didn’t I just stay in bed?
Mandrake called a long bomb. He pointed to one of the wide receivers and said, “You’re my man.” We fell into formation. The center snapped the ball into Mandrake’s hands. The wide receiver ran down the sidelines as fast as he could. Mandrake fell back into the passing pocket. He cocked back the football, eyed the wide receiver, and slapped the ball right into my gut.
The coach suddenly did an excellent imitation of Boom Boy, except I thought the coach really would blow up.
I wanted to win the game. I wanted Prudence to notice me. I wanted the crowd to cheer and my dad to be proud. I wanted to be the hero. But most of all, I wanted to wipe the smug look off Mandrake’s face.
Yeah. That’s what I
wanted
to do. Too bad the apes on the other team also wanted to do something.
See, what they wanted to do, just in case you haven’t noticed a trend here, what they wanted to do was to pummel me into the ground.
I’ll give you one guess whose wants came true. They tackled me hard. I made a small squeaking noise as the wind was crushed from my lungs. I felt a pain stab into my arm, felt my knees buckle under the weight, and saw the football pop from my hands and bounce on the ground.
What happened next wasn’t very pretty.
What Happened Next That Wasn’t Very Pretty
As I disappeared beneath a crushing tackle, Mandrake picked up my fumble and ran seventy-three yards for the game-winning touchdown.
The crowd cheered. The coach jumped with joy. Prudence squealed with delight. The team hoisted Mandrake onto their shoulders and carried him off the field.
He was the hero.
I lay on the ground with a face full of mud. I looked up to the bleachers.
My dad was gone.
Next Stop: The Twilight Zone
Buildings and cars blurred by. I raced down darkened alleys and under broken street lamps. I ran from the football field so no one would see me. No one would see me run 108 miles per hour. No one would see my mud- and grass-stained jersey. No one would see the tears.
No one would see me get lifted off the ground and zoom into the sky.
“You!” I shouted the moment he put me down. “What do you want?”
“I saw tonight’s game,” he replied.
“Good for you. Can you put me back on the ground now?”
The Strike looked around. He had flown us to the top of a bridge support. There was more than enough room for both of us, and we were far away from any prying eyes.