The OK Team (5 page)

There is silence from the other side of the door until Mum says, ‘You're really pushing your luck, Hazy Retina. This pretending to be a superhero has to stop, right now!'

‘Yes, Mum,' I call sweetly to the door. ‘Goodnight and have pleasant dreams. I know I will.'

I stand in front of the mirror and actually enjoy watching my body appear and disappear.

‘A Hero is a Hero,' I say. ‘No matter what.'

AN INTRODUCTION TO BEING A HERO,
BY TRIPLE A HERO STATUS, 1937 –
FOUNDATION HALL OF FAME HERO,
HERO OF THE YEAR 1941, '43, '47, '52, '56, '65, '71
SINGLE-HANDED WORLD SAVES: 34
HERO TEAM-UP WORLD SAVES: 147

Hello Hero Wannabes.

So, you're all puffed up with your new Hero status, huh?

I don't blame you. I remember the feeling, all those years ago, and it's a good one.

But here's what I've got to tell you young punks: There's a lot of work ahead. You think the big time Heroes, the Triple As, were born just like that? Well, OK, some were, but the others had to work at it. Had to put in the hard yards. Had to sweat and learn and fail and keep striving.

That's what is ahead of you, kid.

And here's one other thing I want to impress on you. It won't be your actual power that stamps what sort of Hero you are. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're all impressed by whatever your superpower is. You can summon the wind, or fly, or beam a heat ray from your belly button, or whatever your party trick is. Well, whoopee doo.

‘Hero' comes from within. Yes, it's about learning to control and use your powers, but mostly it's about your attitude, your ethics and your willingness to give. For your fellow man. Or creature.

We don't all save the world every day. Sometimes, the most Heroic thing you might attempt all week is to help some old person cross the road. Or to untangle a dog's lead. Is that the stuff of comic book legend? No, but to that person, or that dog, you're Heroic right then, when they needed you. What I'm saying is that it's the little things that define a true Hero, not just the flashy rescues or the timely fist to an alien monster's jaw. If it has a jaw.

Got all that? Probably not, but try to give it some thought between weights sessions at the gym, huh?

Most of all, you will only be a true Hero when you believe. In you. And remember, a Hero is a Hero. No matter what.

Mr Fabulous

HERO RECOGNITION: A DISCUSSION BY A. HERO

There are people wandering around in every city and every country of the world who have superpowers, but most don't realise it or don't want to know. Powers come in many forms and strengths. One person might have superior vision to everybody around him but never think about it, other than to wonder why everyone is peering at something in the distance when he can see it, crystal clear. Someone else might be able to hear a conversation across a crowded room and never consider that nobody else in the room can do the same thing. A long time ago in Gotham City, it was decreed that nobody would be recognised as a Hero unless they first voluntarily came to the realisation that they were a Hero, and were therefore prepared to accept all that being a Hero means.

SUBJECT:
New Hero website introduction

Dear Mr Retina,

Congratulations on your confirmed status as a Hero, Entry Level, Grade Two.

You are invited to visit our website,
www.herohints.com
, for news, advice, tips and other Hero-related matters.

We trust it will be of service to you.

Your username and password for the site are as follows:

username: hazy_retina
password: carrot_taco

Yours in Heroism,
B. Canary,
International Hall of Heroes,
Gotham

CHAPTER 7
THE WORST WEDGIE IN
HUMAN HISTORY

T
hat was last night and now I'm back at school, finally dragged from my room after an unexpected room invasion by my mother, some air freshener and a stern talking-to about the value of a good education.

I can hardly walk I'm so tired, but I'm grinning from ear to ear. Scumm and his buddies hurl insults at me and I just breeze on by. I have no doubt that during the three days of my absence, the words ‘freak', ‘retard' and ‘loser' have been dramatically downgraded in their usage among the crueller sections of the school population, and now that I'm back, normal taunting can be resumed. But today is a day I am untouchable and, for once, it's not because my body is more mist than skin and bone.

I might be Entry Level, Grade Two, the lowest level there is, but I'm a Hero.

Of course it was too good to last. Of course I shouldn't have come to school. Second class I find myself heading to maths and that means Ali will be there. Instantly I can feel myself becoming a cloud again and I try to think about IncredoMan's epic battle against the Fangstaaaaaaar Nine on the Planet Elginon, a comic I was reading last night. Distracted, my body takes shape again, as much as it will in a school environment, and I'm even more relieved, once I'm sitting, to realise that Ali has worked hard to get a desk on the other side of the room and won't meet my eye. Her ghost-white hair hangs down to cover her face like a wall, which suits me fine. Now I think about it, she wasn't about to say anything anyway, right? But I can feel the eyes and hear the sniggers as the rest of the class enjoys my struggle.

It's hard to believe but at recess, things get worse. I come around a corner and there's Boris Scumm, terrorising a kid – the tuckshop's brick wall expertly between him and any possibility of a teacher's line of sight. One thing for Boris, he's a natural bully. Big, dumb and street-smart.

The other kid is from my year level but we've never actually shared a class. I know his name, though. It's Frederick Fodder. He's a short, stocky kid who is known mostly among our year for his bizarre antics on the football field. Despite his lack of size, Fodder has a tendency to fly for big marks, climbing over the pack to catch the ball, only to suddenly shoot off in the wrong direction, landing heavily metres away from the action. It looks hilarious, no matter how many times you see it.

Usually Fodder hangs out with Simon Fondue, possibly the most shy and second-most quiet kid in Year Seven, always mumbling and playing with his fingers. When Fondue walks past, all you can hear are mumbles and clicks. I look around for him now and find him, hiding behind the tuckshop door, looking terrified.

Fodder, on the other hand and to his credit, looks more mad than scared, even with massive Scumm looming over him plus at least five henchmen lurking.

‘What's the matter,
Nerderick
?' Scumm sneers. ‘No footballs to completely miss?'

‘You think I'm scared of you?' Fodder says. ‘Why don't you and your five girlfriends leave me alone and go play house?'

Even Scumm blinks. Nobody speaks to him like that.

‘Man, you are so dead, Nerderick.'

‘Leave him alone, you big ape!' An even smaller girl, also stocky and with the same black hair as Frederick, appears behind Scumm, hands on hips in a defiant pose. ‘Why don't you pick on someone your own size – like a refrigerator?'

Scumm turns slowly to look at her, which is a disaster for me because, yep, the girl happens to put me right in the bully's line of sight. Instantly, Fodder and the girl are forgotten.

‘Hey, Fuzzy-Wuzzy Freak Show, is there something wrong with my eyes or are you being a freak, as usual?'

‘Leave me alone, Scumm.' I can already feel myself wavering badly.

‘I'd love to but you're such a freak I just can't take my eyes off you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy Freak Show. Oh actually, I can't keep my eyes on you.'

This is pretty much the extent of a Boris Scumm conversation.

‘Just drop it, Scumm. I'm leaving.'

I am fast losing visibility and I try to get out of there, to run to the library and escape, but suddenly Scumm's massive hand is grabbing the elastic of my underpants. I get such a shock that I instantly lurch wildly out of focus, just as Scumm yanks, resulting in Scumm falling backwards, me falling forwards and both of us ending on the ground.

I am almost invisible with embarrassment and anger while Scumm has a strange, shocked smile on his face. I almost throw up when I see he is holding my underpants in his paw. I lost so much of my physical presence in the attack that Scumm has yanked my undies clean through what is left of my body. Cue mass schoolyard laughter.

Scumm sniggers. ‘SpongeBob undies?'

Why had I ever left my room?

Later, holed up in the library with my head buried in a comic, both hands over my ears, trying uselessly to shut out the laughter and taunts still echoing, I become aware of a presence at my side. It is Frederick Fodder.

‘Hazy?' he says.

‘You know my name?'

He shrugs, almost apologetically. ‘Everyone knows your name, Hazy.'

‘Yeah, I guess they would,' I say. ‘You're Frederick, right?'

‘Champion of the football pinball.'

I find myself smiling. ‘I liked how you stood up to that gorilla out there.'

‘That's what I wanted to talk about,' he says. ‘I'm really sorry it ended the way it did. It was my fight, not yours.'

‘Scumm picks on anybody he thinks is vulnerable. His line of sight could just as easily have gone from me to you.'

‘Well, anyway, I'm sorry.'

‘Thanks,' I say, and I mean it, all the while thinking that this might be the longest conversation I've ever had with a fellow pupil. ‘Who was the girl?'

Frederick rolls his eyes. ‘My little sister. She told me that she'd mysteriously known that I was about to get into a fight, so she'd come to save me.'

‘Wow. Is she that tuned in?'

‘Not when it comes to remembering it's her turn to feed the dog.'

I laugh and so does Frederick. I'm certain I've never done that with anybody at Northcote High before. Just for a moment, I feel something that might be sunshine in my life.

It doesn't last. Scumm catches up with me again on the way home from school. Actually, I think Scumm himself is a little freaked out by the underwear incident so he leaves it to his chief assistant bully, a hulking fourteen year old known as Cam the Man, to try and rub my face in some dog poo that is conveniently lying on the footpath. Luckily I literally slip through Cam the Man's thick fingers moments before my face reaches the ground and his hand ends up in the poo. I run the rest of the way home, lungs screaming.

Some Hero.

CHAPTER 8
GETTING STARTED

F
or the next four nights, I do pretty much nothing but read the Beginner's Guide, surf
herohints.com
and watch Channel 78737, which turns out to be an entire TV channel dedicated to superheroes. It's like a 24-hour news station, but only addressing Hero matters and to a Hero-only audience.

No matter what time I click on, the channel is in full flight. The newsreader is either a muscly hero in a dark suit with a black cape (!) or a smart-looking blonde woman in a clinging lycra costume, wearing a small mask.