The OK Team (25 page)

‘That didn't go so well,' he murmurs. ‘Not what I used to be, hey, kids.'

I'm too busy looking up to argue. ‘There is one thing, Mr Fabulous. The meteor has stopped.'

The others join me in looking skyward, and it is true. The meteor hangs there, as though somebody has hit a pause button.

‘Look!' says Torch, pointing a stream of flame to the heart of the asteroid. As the flame dies, we can make out a tiny, shiny, golden figure, with two tiny arms holding up the meteor. Switchy loses his air-raid shelter look and becomes a giant TV screen, with a camera pointing at the little figure and magnifying it on the screen.

‘Golden Boy!' shouts Yesterday. ‘I knew he'd do it.'

Golden Boy grins in happiness, making sure he holds the pose long enough for Channel 78737's remote flying cameras to get his image. His voice floats faintly back to Earth: ‘No matter what!'

He flexes his bulging muscles, pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and finally, impossibly, hurls the asteroid back into space, the enormous rock lurching away to maybe one day threaten another planet and give some bunch of alien Heroes something to worry about.

Finally, Golden Boy floats to Earth, hugs Mr Fabulous, and even high-fives me and Cannonball.

‘Gotta believe, hey, Focus,' he says.

Golden Boy knows my name.

‘Well done, boy,' Mr Fabulous says to him. ‘You've saved the world.'

‘It's a good feeling, old-timer,' Golden Boy smiles. ‘You remember what it's like?'

Mr Fabulous chuckles, but with an edge of sadness. ‘Not a day goes past that I can't forget. Enjoy it while you can, son.'

CHAPTER 33
A HAPPY ENDING

S
o, that is pretty much it. Scorch goes back to jail and spends a lot of time in his cell, all alone, blowing his nose. Scumm (aka Moonface) also gets sent for a long time to a place where there are lots of long, earnest discussions about appropriate behaviour. Golden Boy becomes the nicest Hero in the world now he's managed to finally save the Earth. He even drops by the OK Team's old scout hall occasionally, to offer tips and gossip about Heroes.

I still can't believe Golden Boy and I are friends. I've taken all the posters off my bedroom wall, in case somebody from the Hero world ever turns up at my house. It's embarrassing to be too much of a fan.

After one final celebratory dinner at the Vegie Bar – booked out for the night as a ‘private function' and full of enough Hero freaks to make even the coolest Fitzroy types look twice had anybody been able to see in, and with Lurch taking a night off as waiter to enjoy being the Son of Mantis – Mr Fabulous finally flies back to Gotham, first class, guest of the Australian Federation of Hero Types. Soon after, he is named Honorary Hero Figurehead of the Heroic Hall of Heroes. What that means is that Heroes take him out to lunch a lot and tell him how great he was – and still is. He's one happy old Hero.

And me? Life's good. I just might have gotten the girl, and now when I look in the mirror, I can mostly see myself in there, unless I choose not to. School doesn't seem like such a trial any more, and I'm getting on pretty well with Mum and Dad, especially now Dad has backed off on the freak stories as a reaction to my improved self-confidence.

I got a letter from Gotham last week too, informing me that my Hero status has been upgraded to Level D, First Grade, which means as of now, I'm not a trainee entry level Hero but a fully fledged Cape.

And that, my fellow freaks, is what's known as a happy ending.

EPILOGUE

I
'm sitting in my room one night, sketching out some ideas for a new cape, when a voice next to me says, ‘You've done all right for yourself then, huh?'

It's Super Dead Kid, as pale and ghostly as ever, at the end of my bed.

I get such a fright I fall through my bed.

‘Yikes!' I say, climbing out from underneath. ‘Don't just turn up in my bedroom!'

‘Why not?'

‘It's my bedroom!'

‘Didn't used to be. It was a market garden once.'

‘Really?'

‘Yeah, and the circus used to set up next door. When I was still alive, I'd wake up and hear the lions roaring. That was so long ago.'

I look at him. He looks sick and tired and miserable.

‘Why DO you walk the Earth, Super Dead Kid?'

‘What is this? A trick question? Because I'm dead, maybe.'

‘But why you? Why aren't all the other people who have ever lived in Melbourne also walking around?'

Super Dead Kid stops to consider this. ‘I do see the occasional ghost, but not many. Usually they're at train stations.'

‘They are?' I can't help being curious. ‘Why?'

‘I dunno. Waiting for something, I guess.'

‘Like what? And don't say a train. Is that why you're around? Are you waiting for something?'

Super Dead Kid is thinking hard now. ‘I've never thought about it, but yes. It's as though I'm waiting for a moment. Not so much a big “Day of Judgement” type of moment. More like there's something eluding me, something I need to know.'

We think about this.

‘Super Dead Kid?' I say hesitantly.

‘Yeah?'

‘What if – I don't know if I should even say this . . .'

‘Go on,' he says. ‘Trust me, I want to hear it.'

‘Well, what if what you're waiting for is to realise you're actually dead?'

‘But I know I'm dead.'

‘Do you?' I'm gazing hard at him and I'm more or less in focus. ‘Think about what that means. Because if you are really dead, like others who have died, you should move on. You're not supposed to be here, on Earth, wandering around. Other dead people have gone . . . I don't know where, but somewhere else. Maybe you haven't moved because part of you doesn't actually, really, truly believe that you are dead . . .'

Super Dead Kid is staring at me with his red-and-white eyes.

‘Wow,' he says. ‘Big wow.'

‘It's all about believing,' I say. ‘This is something I know.

Repeat after me: I AM a dead kid.'

‘You? You're not dead.'

‘I said repeat after me . . . I AM a dead kid.'

‘Oh, right. I am a dead kid,' he says.

‘Louder!'

‘I AM A DEAD KID!'

We stare at each other again. ‘Goodbye,' he says.

‘Really?'

‘Yes,' he says. ‘I know you're right. It feels different already. Thank you.'

‘Hey, no problem. Good luck, wherever you go.'

He has changed from pale to transparent. He's fading before my eyes. I watch him vanish.

‘So long, sucker,' he says. ‘Hey, wow, you should see –' And he's gone.

COMING SOON

THE OK TEAM 2: BETTER THAN OK
(
LEVEL D, GRADE THREE)

Born a bit blurry around the edges, Hazy Retina's life as a superhero is going pretty well. As Focus, he is the Level D, Third Grade leader of the OK Team, a slightly less-hopeless-than-they-used-to-be band of still-pretty-bad Heroes.

But just as the OK Team is finding its feet, the bad guys – and several Heroes around town – find a mysterious new level of power and strength. Can it be true that a performance-enhancing substance, S.T.O.M.P. (Serum That Overly Magnifies Powers), is responsible? Does this explain the unnatural success of super-villain the Bushranger and his mysterious henchmen?

And what exactly is a Knight-hood Pact and why did Focus agree to it without checking the fine print?

Between dealing with the ethics of cheating and the increasingly erratic behaviour of his teammates (including new members Logi-Gal and the Gamer, who may be more of a hindrance than a help), Hazy a.k.a. Focus is up to his cape in strife. Will S.T.O.M.P. mean the death of the OK Team – and even of Focus himself ?

Find out in
The OK Team 2: Better than OK
– to be released in October 2008!

www.herohints.com

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T
o Super Eva, heroic editor supreme, and everybody at Allen & Unwin for their continued enthusiasm and support.

To the various Heroes in my world, for support, inspiration and laughter. Including, in no particular order:

The Focstle Hero Collective (Ronnie Marvel, Wonder Jude, The Amazing M, Bellariffic and Incredoruby) and to my wider, wonderful family

Captain Shonky

Mademoiselle Manta Ray

The New York Tigress

‘Hey, Winner!' And the rest of the Giants, past and present

The Canary

Miss Y, Queen of the Spirits

Sleight (aka Simon the Mysterious)

Mookie the Marvel

The Cat Canvasback Stubbs

The Auckland Mau-auders (especially Blondie, and little Joel who, without even realising, gave me a straight shot of raw kid enthusiasm at the exact moment I needed it)

The Kingsley Hero Collective (Perth Division)

Super Goose

Shack Attack

And to all the other Heroic friends and family I haven't mentioned but appreciate more than you probably know.

And finally, to the creators and illustrators of comic books everywhere, for a lifetime of super-powered fantasy and imagination. Like Hazy, I remain convinced that if I just look up, at exactly the right moment, I still might see a human streak, or maybe hear the flutter of a cape. May I never lose that hope or that ability to dream.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

N
ick Place has been a professional writer for more than twenty years, in newspapers, magazines, TV, radio and the internet, but he refuses to grow up, regardless. Having worked as everything from sports reporter to comedy writer, he now runs a media company, ironically called Media Giants, and lives in Melbourne, Australia. His only known superpower is an ability to flatten surf by standing on a beach with a surfboard, ready to paddle out.