The OK Team (9 page)

‘How did you do that?'

Cannonball blinks at the still KO'ed man, and looks at me sideways. ‘Um, well, . . . I saw you were in trouble and . . . Actually, I'm lying. I had no idea. The truth is, you know how I said I can fly? Well, it's true. I can. It's just that I have no control over it. I aim to fly somewhere but my body just takes off in any direction. I only fly a few metres off the ground and it usually ends when I crash into something. Crash hard. Like just now.'

‘You weren't trying to fight this guy?'

Cannonball shuffles his feet. ‘I was trying to fly home, which is that way.' He points off to the north. ‘I had no idea you were even here. You're not exactly easy to see, no offence.'

We both stare at one another and then I feel a strange surge coming from my stomach. My entire body begins to shudder and I put my hands to my face. And then it erupts – a laugh. A wild, almost hysterical laugh of relief and disbelief. Cannonball's face splits into a giant smile and then he is laughing too. We laugh so hard I think I might die.

My ribs are hurting from the laughter.

‘You saved me and you didn't even mean to!'

‘My first genuine superhero rescue! And it was completely accidental!'

‘He had a steel bar. I thought I was dead!'

‘I fly about as well as a tractor!'

We finally stop laughing, gasping for breath. Cannonball has the hiccoughs. The crazy guy moves his left foot slightly and murmurs.

‘Quick,' I say. ‘We have to get out of here before he wakes up. Fly while you can.'

‘Actually, I think I've done enough flying for one night,' Cannonball admits. ‘I'm going to get a taxi. I don't want to catch a tram dressed like this. Where do you live?'

‘Northcote,' I say.

‘Me too. Want a ride home?'

‘I'd love one,' I say. ‘I need to talk to you anyway.'

‘You do?'

‘Yeah, about joining my team.'

Cannonball stops and looks at me. ‘You mean it?'

I had the idea as it came out of my mouth, but now I've said it, it feels right. ‘You bet I do. I want you in the team.

You in?'

I put out a silver-gloved hand, which is finally more or less physically there.

Cannonball takes it and shakes. ‘You bet. I'd like that more than eating coal.'

CHAPTER 12
WANTED: HEROES

Team members wanted.

Focus and Cannonball are looking for partners in crimefighting.

Entry-level preferred. Girls as well as guys.

Nobody over 14 years old.

No vomiting powers, please.

(Must have own utility belt.)

‘L
ook, we're sorry, but we don't think there's a place for you in the team.' It isn't getting any easier, no matter how many times I break the news to wannabes who have replied to our advertisement on
herohints.com
, or heard about the auditions from a friend of a Hero friend, or maybe just wandered past the disused scout hall we're using. I don't want to sound superior, but there's no way half the kids we've seen have rated a visit from Leon or another Hero confirming they have powers, like I did.

This particular kid looks absolutely crushed.

‘Oh,' he says.

‘We think you're great, really great,' Cannonball says. ‘It's just that we're not sure your powers adequately complement our own.'

‘But fashion is everything in today's modern world.'

‘Well yes, but we're not sure how it would apply to day-to-day crime-fighting. You'd fit into our team like a marble in a feather pillow.'

Bad Fashion Boy stands there, dressed only in his jocks, gumboots and rubber washing-up gloves, his eyes watering behind his snorkelling mask.

‘So, anyway, sorry,' I say, opening the door.

‘Well, good luck with the team,' Bad Fashion Boy mumbles. ‘Let me know if you change your mind or need help with uniforms.'

‘Oh, we will. Yes sir,' Cannonball lies.

I close the door and sigh. ‘Jeez, this is horrible. He was even worse than Captain Snot.'

‘And Unleaded Petrol Man.'

‘We forgot to ask that guy how he actually discovered that his wee was unleaded petrol.'

‘I hope nobody ever lights a match while he's going to the toilet.'

There is a sharp rapping on the door. I open it and there stands a girl about two years younger than us, wearing a light blue skirt with several layers of light blue T-shirts.

A light blue bandana ties back her hair.

‘Hi,' I say. ‘And you are . . .?'

‘Yesterday,' says the girl dramatically. ‘The Girl Who Can See Into the Past!'

‘That's ridiculous,' I snort. ‘You call yourself a Hero?'

‘I knew you were going to say that,' she says, fingers to her temples and a mysterious look on her face.

‘Actually,' Cannonball says apologetically, ‘that's my little sister.'

To the girl, he says, ‘Alexandra, I told you not to follow me here.'

‘And I knew you were going to say that. By the way, don't use my alter ego name in front of strangers,
Nerdy
.'

‘Cannonball,' he says through gritted teeth. ‘The name is Cannonball.'

Yesterday and Cannonball are both standing, legs apart, hands on hips, glaring at one another. I can see the resemblance.

‘So, um, Yesterday, why the blue costume?' I ask.

She shrugs. ‘I like blue. And I knew that was the colour I was going to wear, once I chose it, because of my power.'

Cannonball says, as though in pain, ‘You do not have a power. Everybody in the world can see into the past.'

‘And everybody in the world can jump sideways too, fly boy,' she says. She puts her fingers to her temple again.

‘Even the loneliest donkey walks the same path as the horse.'

‘What does that mean?' I ask.

She opens her eyes and smiles at us. ‘Whatever you want it to mean.'

‘She thinks if she mutters deep sayings like that it will add credibility and mystery to her power,' Cannonball says, rolling his eyes. ‘She's about as powerful as a hair dryer.'

By now, I figure it's better just not to speak.

‘So,' she says brightly, ‘Who else is in our team?'

‘You are not in the team!'

‘I am too. Mum said not to leave me out of your games, remember?'

‘This is not a game. This is serious.'

‘Sure it is. Have you guys come up with a secret handshake yet? Oh wait, hang on.' She puts her fingers to her temple again. ‘My power tells me you haven't.'

I say, ‘Cannonball, can I have a quiet word, just for a second?'

We go outside and close the door. Cannonball slumps under his skater helmet.

‘I'm sorry, Focus. She follows me everywhere. My mum is a nurse and single parent. She has to work weird shifts so Alexandra and I end up having to hang out.'

‘You shouldn't call her Alexandra, you know,' I say.

‘What?'

‘Whether she's your sister or not, she's here in a costume and she says she has a power. We should respect her right to call herself Yesterday, just as we expect people to respect our Hero names.'

‘She's about as much a Hero as an old carpet! She's just my idiot little sister.'

‘So, we tell her to go home?'

Cannonball shifts his feet. ‘Well, the thing is . . .'

I stare.

‘We'll have to put in a lot of hours on this thing. And Mum will be furious if Al – I mean Yesterday – is left by herself for all that time.'

I can't believe this. ‘So the third member of our team is only there because you have to babysit.'

‘She might be useful. She could clean up our headquarters, get us drinks and stuff like that.'

‘Oh, yeah, right. Are you going to tell her that, or will I?'

Cannonball puts his hand on the doorknob and looks back at me with a wicked grin. ‘Hey, if her power's real, she'll already know and we won't have to tell her.'

Yesterday has a finger to both temples as we walk back in. ‘Never sleep with a fish unless you've checked the water is clean.'

‘I'll remember that,' I say.

The rest of the morning is no better.

Without fail, Yesterday says she knows each Hero isn't going to be accepted, the moment they leave the room.

One kid turns up and says his name is Freeze Frame.

‘Uh huh?' says Cannonball. ‘And what do you do?'

‘This!' says the kid. He strikes a pose and freezes.

After about two minutes, nothing has happened. It doesn't even look as though he's breathing. We walk up to him and wonder what to do. Yesterday gently pokes his stomach.

‘It's like he's a statue,' she says.

‘There's nobody home,' adds Cannonball, peering into the frozen kid's eyes. ‘He's as lifelike as calamari.'

We give it another five minutes. He doesn't move a millimetre.

‘This is weird,' I say. ‘What do we do with him?'

‘Not to move can be very moving,' says Yesterday mysteriously.

Cannonball goes over and puts his stocky arms around the kid, then drags him into the far corner.

We leave him there, facing the wall.

A minute or so later, there is a soft, nervous knock and when we open the door, a kid is standing there, a little hunched, peering at us shyly from under a mass of long hair. He's about our age and his costume is a good one. Yellow and orange, with red flame-like shapes in the design, although it looks a little faded and frayed around the edges.

‘Wow, nice threads!' says Cannonball.

‘Thanks,' mumbles the kid. ‘I, umm, inherited them.'

‘What's your name, mate?' I ask.

‘The Torch.'

‘I knew that,' whispers Yesterday.

‘Of course you did,' I say. ‘So Torch, do you mean like THE Torch? The Flaming Torch? Is that what you do?'

‘Sort of.' The kid looks at the ground and shuffles his feet, his face going red with embarrassment. ‘Look, it's nothing much. I probably shouldn't have come. Sorry to waste your time.'

Cannonball raises his eyebrows at me. I shrug.

‘You're here now,' I say, as the Torch turns towards the door. ‘You might as well show us what you can do. It's OK.

We're all new to this.'

The Torch manages to raise his eyes to look at us for a moment and then mumbles, ‘Well, OK, but like I said, it's not much. All I have to show you is this . . .'

And he clicks his fingers – in the process creating a spark of fire that glows off the bare skin on the index finger of his right hand with a steady glowing flame.

‘Whoa!' says Cannonball, impressed.

‘You ARE the Torch,' I gasp. ‘Awesome! I've always loved Heroes who can burst into flame. You are SO in the team!

Congratulations!'

The Torch blinks and blows out the flame so he can shake my silver glove. I can feel the heat from his finger.

‘Wow! Really? I'm in? Are you sure?'

‘Definitely.'

‘You bet,' agrees Cannonball.

‘I just knew you were going to be in the team,' says Yesterday.

‘You know, the Flaming Torch has always been one of my favourite heroes,' I grin.

‘He's my grandfather, but that's kind of a secret,' says the kid. ‘He gave me the costume. My dad wore it for a while too.'

I'm peering at where the flame had been on the Torch's finger.