The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Boy, Book One: The Hero Revealed (16 page)

“How so?” Stench said. He knew he’d gone over the line.

“The best place to hide anything is in plain sight,” I informed them. “If anyone comes into the club to try and find it, they’ll assume it’s hidden and go crazy looking through every obscure spot they can think of. They’ll never expect it to be sitting right out in the open. So that’s exactly where we’ll put it. Just like Hal suggested.”

The look I gave them made it clear that they better agree.

“Uh, right,” Tadpole reluctantly concurred. “Great idea, Hal.”

“It’s brilliant,” agreed Plasma Girl, who was clearly upset that she had let herself get carried away.

“Definitely,” Stench joined in, happy at least that the card would stay in the headquarters.

Halogen Boy beamed brightly as the aquarium was lifted up and the card was set down right between the doorknob and the sardine can. Then the meeting quickly came to an end. We were all too upset about the fight. With only brief good-byes, we lowered the rope ladder and each of us headed for home.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

You’re Never Too Old

I walked home feeling low. What should have been a moment of triumph—the completion of our AI Collector Card set—had been ruined by a fight. And I still wanted to know who had stolen the second card, and why.

When I got home the house was empty. Mom never got home from work before five, but I did expect Dad to be here. I looked in the family room and the living room, but I couldn’t find any sign of him. And then I heard voices coming from the backyard. I went out the kitchen door and peeked through the garage door window. That was where I found my father—along with a few visitors.

“I know you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here,” my dad said to his three guests: the Big Bouncer; the Levitator; and Stench’s dad, Windbag. “The reason is I think it’s high time we started our own team.”

“Are you nuts?” said Windbag as he pulled a big fistful of potato chips out of a bag. “We’re a bunch of middle-aged guys. What are we going to call ourselves: The Potbellied Posse?”

“Speak for yourself,” said the Levitator, watching Windbag shove the chips into his mouth. “Thermo and I have both maintained our fighting trim—and I think it’s a great idea. Remember how well we worked together when we were younger and members of the New Crusaders? We were unstoppable!”

“Exactly,” my father agreed. “There’s more talent sitting in this garage right now than in the entire League of Ultimate Goodness. If they don’t want us, I say we start a rival group and show ’em who’s the best. What do you think, BB?”

“Well,” the Big Bouncer said, “I sure don’t feel like I’m washed up. Windbag and I may look like two old fat guys, but we were this hefty when we were teenagers.”

“Speak for yourself,” huffed Windbag. “I wore a size fifty-two when I was in college, and now I’m down to a fifty-one.”

“I don’t know, though.” The Big Bouncer sighed. “Maybe these younger teams are right in thinking we’re over the hill.”

“Are you kidding?” my dad blurted out. “Remember all the stupid things we used to do when we were that age? We were idiots!”

“I remember, Hot Hands!” the Levitator said. They all started laughing, and my dad turned red. “Like the time you fell in the tank at the Seafood Hut and cooked their entire stock of lobsters!”

I tried to keep from laughing so they wouldn’t discover I was there. I didn’t want to miss any other good embarrassing stories about my dad.

“The point is”—my dad raised his voice over the chuckles—“our brains and experience more than make up for our lack of youth.”

“But how will we make any money at it?” insisted the Big Bouncer. “You know that AI and the LUG’s get all the rich endorsement deals.”

“Yeah,” the Levitator agreed. “You’re lucky that Snowflake rakes in all that dough at Corpsicle. Windbag’s junkyard may not make him rich, but he’s also got what Chrysanthemum makes from her perfume business. But BB needs his job at the Mighty Mart, and I’ve only just gotten my delivery business off the ground… . Get it? Off the ground?”

Everybody groaned and rolled their eyes as the Levitator cracked himself up.

“I’m not saying we quit our jobs—at least those of us who have jobs,” my dad insisted. “We’d start up part-time and see how things work. Who knows, maybe we’ll do well enough that we
can
quit our jobs—uh, I mean for those of us who haven’t already quit their jobs—and take our lives in a bold new direction!”

“Okay, sure,” Windbag said, casually reaching back and scratching his butt. “It’ll get me out of the house whenever my wife expects me to take care of things.”

“Count me in, Thermo,” the Big Bouncer said. “What have I got to lose?”

“I’ll do it, too,” added the Levitator, “but what will we call ourselves?”

“I hadn’t thought about it yet,” my dad admitted, “but we need something punchy.”

“How about the Fatalistic Four?” suggested Windbag.

“No, no, no,” my father disagreed. “We may want to add additional members.”

“We could call ourselves the League of Ultimate Geezers,” joked the Levitator.

“I sort of like the Dream Team,” recommended the Big Bouncer.

“No, that makes it sound like we spend most of our time sleeping in front of the TV,” my dad said. “We need something daring and original, something that recalls our previous experience while taking us solidly into a bold new future.”

He suddenly rose to his feet. “And I think I have it!”

I leaned closer to the door, eager to hear my dad’s brainstorm.

“We’ll call ourselves”—he paused for dramatic effect—“the New New Crusaders!”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

What Goes Up …

I tried not to think about the awful name my dad had given his new team. At school the next morning, my priority was to see that my team’s fight was behind us. I ran into Plasma Girl and Tadpole just as I reached the main entrance. Before we could even say good morning, the school bus pulled up and Halogen Boy stepped out.

“Hey, guys.” He greeted us as if nothing bad had happened yesterday. “Is the card still safe?”

“Stench isn’t here yet,” I replied, “but I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I hope he leaves it at headquarters.” Plasma Girl shuddered slightly. “I don’t want it causing us any more trouble here at school.”

“You’re right,” Tadpole agreed. “Something as awesomely valuable as that will just tempt someone if we keep showing it off. After all, at best, there’s only one other in existence.”

“Hey guyth, gueth what I got my handth on?”

Turning around, we all got sprayed with seeds as Melonhead approached us. Normally it would have annoyed us, but this time we were too stunned by what he was holding—a Professor Brain-Drain card identical to our own.

“He stole our card!” Tadpole shouted.

Before anyone could stop him, he had pounced on Melonhead, and they both fell onto the pavement. Tadpole was on top and, I believe, trying to wrap his hands around Melonhead’s neck. Of course since Melonhead’s neck is actually the widest part of his head, Tadpole wasn’t going to get anywhere with that. Nevertheless, Melonhead fought back the best way he knew how, and Tadpole found himself being pummeled with watermelon seeds to such an extent that he had no choice but to back off, shielding his face from the barrage of miniature projectiles.

“Great thethame! Thtop athaulting me,” Melon-head sputtered. “Thith ithn’t your card, for crimany thaketh!”

“What else could it be,” Tadpole hollered as me and Hal restrained him.

“There
is
another card, Tadpole,” Plasma Girl reminded him. “Maybe Melonhead found it.”

“Egthactly,” Melonhead said as he got back on his feet. “Ekthept I didn’t find it in a thtore. I bought it from thith weird-looking guy who offered it to me on the thtreet. I paid him twenty dollarth for it.”

“Then
he
must have stolen it from us!” Tadpole raged as we continued to hold him down.

Just then Stench arrived. He didn’t even have time to speak before Tadpole shouted at him.

“Someone stole our card that you were supposed to keep safe!”

“It is safe,” Stench said, looking completely confused. “I saw it less than ten minutes ago. It’s just where we left it.”

“Thee!” Melonhead sprayed a slew of seeds directly into Tadpole’s face before picking up his book bag and stomping off. In my opinion Tadpole deserved it. Before we could explain anything to Stench, the school bell rang and we all had to go inside.

Seeing Melonhead with the other card had been somewhat disturbing, but at least it was possible. What we discovered once we got inside the classroom was cataclysmically, impossibly disastrous.

“Look what I found,” the Spore wheezed as he held up a Professor Brain-Drain card already covered in mildew. “I only had to pay ten dollars for it.”

“You’re kidding! I paid twenty-five dollars for mine,” Cannonball complained, coming in right behind me. Sure enough, he had one, too.

“Mine cost me fifty dollars,” wailed Lobster Boy. “Plus my bike.”

Just then Transparent Girl came into the room. She had faded away to nothing but a pale outline, with the exception of her brand-new Professor Brain-Drain card.

“Look what I have,” she said. “I tried to get it in exchange for my twenty-six AI cards, but the man who sold it to me wouldn’t believe that I didn’t have any money—partly because he could see the bills in my pocket. I ended up paying everything I had—sixty dollars. But it was worth it.”

“Really?” I said, at least getting some small amusement out of this catastrophe. “Just look around.”

Transparent Girl didn’t need to be visible for me to imagine her mouth dropping open at the sight of a class full of Professor Brain-Drain cards. Puddle Boy was now displaying his as well.

“I bought three,” he informed no one in particular. “The other two are safe in collector bags.”

As usual, the room was in an uproar when Miss Marble arrived. It took all her skills to get everyone to sit down in their seats.

“If everyone doesn’t calm down, I’ll have Principal Doppelganger down here in two seconds flat,” she threatened. “Now what’s causing the commotion this morning?”

“We’ve all found Professor Brain-Drain cards,” Cannonball announced proudly. “Now we’re all rich!”

“Is that so?” Miss Marble said as she gave me a sideways glance. From the look on her face I could tell

she found this development as odd as I did.

“And just what did you pay for yours?” she asked Cannonball.

“Only twenty-five dollars,” he said proudly.

The class once again erupted as everyone began shouting out how much he or she had paid. I gave a befuddled look to Stench and Plasma Girl, both of whom just shrugged. At that moment the Banshee shrieked that she had paid a hundred dollars for her card. As I wondered where she would have even gotten a hundred dollars, I felt a telltale rigidity running through my body. We had achieved a brand-new record in bad class behavior.

“Okay, students,” Miss Marble said, rather calmly and patiently considering the situation. “Today you’re going to learn why we make children go to school. It is precisely to prevent you from doing the incredibly stupid sort of thing that you all did this morning.”

Miss Marble can sometimes be insulting, but today I think she had a point.

“As I said yesterday,” she continued, “and as all of you clearly forgot—assuming your brains even absorbed it to begin with …”

“I absorbed it,” volunteered the Human Sponge, whose porous lips allowed her to mumble somewhat despite being frozen.

Miss Marble continued uninterrupted. “ … the value of something depends on how much supply there is compared with the demand for it.”

At this moment we all began to unfreeze.

“Let me give you an example that you will all understand,” she said gravely. “Yesterday there was lots of demand for a Professor Brain-Drain card and very little supply. That made it valuable. Let’s see what the situation is like today.”

I knew where this was headed, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.