The Society of Super Secret Heroes Page 8

  “And these two guys are Ollie Rosebud and his brother—” Kelly continued.

  “I know, I know,” Finch snapped. He glared at Bud.

  Kelly rolled her bottom lip into a pout. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

  Finch peered across the lawn to where his sister was showing someone a lamp. He looked back at Kelly and shrugged.

  “We’ll have four lemonades,” Ollie Rosebud said.

  Finch squinted up at him. Ollie had a deep voice and biceps you could actually see. He smelled as if he wore underarm deodorant. Probably the girls thought he was hot.

  Finch slid four cups across the table. “That will be three dollars.”

  “They’re supposed to be fifty cents a cup.”

  With a black marker, Finch changed the sign from fifty cents to seventy-five. “The price just went up.”

  Ollie scowled. “Forget it. Let’s look around.” He grabbed Bud by the back of the neck and hauled him away. Holly went with them, but Kelly lingered behind.

  “Come on, Kel,” Holly called.

  “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to say hello to the ferrets.”

  Holly stuck out her tongue. “Ew, they look like giant rats.”

  “No, they don’t.” Kelly knelt in front of the cage. “Hi, Rosie. Hi, Cubby,” she crooned. “I’ve missed you.”

  Finch had a hunch she missed his sister, too. If Kelly didn’t want to be friends with Mimi again, why would she have come today? He looked up at his backpack and sent an urgent message: “Cape, wake up! Mimi’s ex-friend Kelly is here. Did you think of a way to get them back together yet?”

  Master, be reasonable. The powers of a Thinking Cape are limited to what is possible. Who can make peace between a she-lion and a she-tiger?

  Finch glanced over at his sister. She was staring at Kelly. But when Kelly looked back, Mimi turned away. “My sister isn’t a wild beast,” he told the cape. “She’s only a girl—a very unhappy one. If you really figured out how to take diamonds away from snakes, you should be able to solve a little problem like this.”

  In a few moments, the wind picked up. It blew across the lawn and swept the tables. Toys, knickknacks, paperbacks, and other items flew off onto the grass.

  “Help!” Mimi called as the wind got stronger. She tried to keep the tables from overturning.

  Finch hurried toward her, snatching things up on his way.

  “Finny, wait! The ferrets!” Kelly yelled.

  Finch whirled around. He saw the door to the old ferret cage swinging back and forth in the wind. Rosie and Cubby were scampering across the yard. “Mimi! Rosie and Cubby are out,” he shouted as he began chasing them.

  The ferrets disappeared among the shoppers and the items scattered on the lawn.

  “Rosie, Cubby!” Mimi got down on her hands and knees to peer under a table.

  “Rosie, Cubby!” Kelly poked in the bushes at the side of the house.

  “Rosie, Cubby, where are you?” Finch scanned the trees. He looked under cars parked in front of the house. Suddenly, from behind a tire, he saw a cinnamon-colored tail twitch. He reached under the car and scooped up the ferret.

  “Ew, ew, ew!” a voice shrieked. “Help!”

  Finch spun around. Holly was bent over at the waist. Her hands were covering her face. Poor, frightened Rosie had climbed up onto her back and was hiding in the hood of her sweatshirt jacket.

  Running from different directions, Mimi and Kelly reached her at the same time.

  “Ooh, ooh, get it off! Get the rat off of me!” Holly shrieked. Nearby, Ollie and Bud were laughing hysterically.

  “Be quiet, you’re frightening her,” Mimi ordered as she lifted Rosie out of the hood. She glared at Ollie and Bud. “And you losers shut up, too.”

  Finch couldn’t help grinning.

  “I already told you not to call her a rat. She’s a ferret,” Kelly told Holly. “She’s the sweetest, most gentle creature in the world.”

  “Sorry,” Holly said. “I never saw one of those before.”

  “I’d better bring them both inside in case the wind starts gusting again,” Finch offered.

  “Here.” Mimi tucked Rosie into the crook of his other arm.

  Kelly put a hand lightly on Mimi’s shoulder. “I’ll help you fix up the tables—if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.” Mimi flashed a mile-wide grin. They began walking off together, shoulders touching. Then Mimi stopped and turned. “Come on, Holly, you can help, too.”

  Finch was pretty sure his sister was going to have two best friends soon. He headed for the house with Rosie and Cubby. When he was far enough away, he checked to see that no one was watching him. Then he gave each of the ferrets a quick kiss on their furry heads.

  Master Finch, help!

  Fin was just coming outside again when the cape’s voice filled his head. He gazed at the tree branch. His backpack was gone. He scanned the lawn and spotted it lying there. But when he picked it up and looked inside, it was empty.

  Please hurry, O valorous lion! I am about to be sold.

  Finch looked around until he saw a flutter of green. A boy of about four or five was wearing the Thinking Cape. It dragged behind him on the ground as he ran across the yard. For a second, Finch felt as if he were looking at his old self.

  “Eric, don’t run with that on or you’ll trip, honey,” a woman called. “I’ll cut it down when we get home.” She held some bills out to Mimi.

  Aiyyya! Scissors will snip away my power!

  “Wait!” Finch shouted as he bolted to the table. “That cape is mine.”

  Everyone on the lawn turned to look at him.

  “It was on the table,” the woman said. “That means it’s for sale.” She waved her bills.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be here. It blew out of my backpack,” Finch said more quietly. His ears began burning. He felt like a jerk.

  The woman eyed him up and down. “My little boy really likes it. Surely a big guy like you can understand.”

  Finch rubbed his eye with a fist. “But my grandma made it for me, and she’s not . . . um . . . she’s not here anymore.”

  For a moment, Mimi gave him a wide-eyed look. Then she put her arm around him. “I’m really sorry, but we can’t sell it,” she said sweetly. “My brother and my grandmother were very close. The cape is like an heirloom to him.”

  “Oh, I see.” The woman put her money away. “You should have said so.” She gave Finch a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

  “Here—give your son this. It’s free.” Finch held out Daniel, his old tiger.

  “That’s very nice of you.” The woman carried the stuffed animal over to her boy. Finch followed behind her.

  “Look at this, Eric.” As the kid examined the tiger, his mother untied the cape strings. “I’m sorry about your grandmother,” she told Fin as she handed him the cape.

  “Er, thanks,” Finch said uncomfortably. His grandma lived in Miami Beach, Florida. She could swim more laps in her condo’s pool than he could.

  “Cape—did you stir up the wind?” he asked silently as he carried it across the lawn.

  I do not know for certain, though I might have, Master.

  “You might have? You never told me you could do anything but think.”

  While I sat on a shelf waiting to be purchased, I could not help hearing the weavers whisper many types of magic spells. I may have remembered one.

  “Do you remember any others?”

  Nay, Master. After more than a thousand years, the words are lost to me. But perchance over time they will return.

  Finch stroked the cape as if it were one of the ferrets. “Thanks for helping my sister the she-tiger.”

  It is I who owe you thanks, Master Finch. Your quick thinking kept me from being sold. Who knows what would have become of me?

  “That little kid didn’t look so bad. But I’d better put you away now before someone else tries to buy you.”

  Yes, Master. I had no idea how dangerous a yard s
ale could be.

  That gave Finch a chuckle. The cape had faced a valley full of man-eating snakes, yet it thought a yard sale was dangerous. He shook his head as he tucked it into his backpack. “You’re too much, Cape!” he said aloud.

  When he looked up, he saw Bud staring at him.

  17

  SHELL SHOCK

  “Wake up, Anthony. It’s Monday morning. Look what I’ve got for you.” Finch lifted the screen and lowered a swirly white shell into the tank. The minute he’d spotted it in his sister’s collection, he knew it would be perfect for the little crab. Carefully, he set it in on the bottom. For a change Anthony didn’t hide. On the ends of their stalks, his eyes watched the new object.

  “Go for it!” Finch whispered. “It’s nice and roomy—it will make you look like a big shot.”

  For a moment, Anthony’s two longer antennae seemed to reach toward the new shell. But they stopped short of actually touching it.

  “Aw, come on.” Finch was so frustrated he flicked a finger against the tank. That sent Anthony withdrawing into his old shell.

  “Oops, sorry,” Finch apologized. On the Internet he’d seen pictures of hermit crabs without their shells. Their pale, hairless bellies had made him think of raw chicken. Yech. Probably Anthony would change his shell at night when he had more privacy. That’s what Finch would do if he were a hermit crab.

  “I’ll check on you later, boy,” he whispered. He looked around for something to do. Last night he’d finished all his homework and read the end of the third book in A Series of Unfortunate Events. As usual, Mr. Burns was on the computer.

  Finch cleared his throat. “Mr. Burns?”

  “Yes?” his teacher answered without looking up.

  “Do you want to show me any new yoga positions? I’m pretty good at the scorpion now.”

  “Sure. Just let me finish this e-mail to my brother.”

  “Is he going to come here for your birthday?”

  “Nope.” Mr. Burns shrugged a shoulder. “We’ve decided to wait until winter break and go skiing together.”

  “Oh.” Even though Mr. Burns didn’t sound upset, Finch felt bad for him. Last winter, for the first time, his father hadn’t been at his birthday dinner. The blob had just been born, and Lisa wasn’t feeling well enough to be left alone. So Fin had gone out for pizza with his mom and Mimi. Although he’d eaten four slices, he’d still left with a strange, empty feeling.

  Suddenly Mr. Burns clapped him on the back. “How’s your balance?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Good. Come on, I’ll show you the eagle.”

  Later, Mr. Burns was reading The Indian in the Cupboard aloud when the noise started up. Chhhhirup, chhhhirup, chhhhirup!

  “I think there’s a frog in the classroom,” someone called out.

  “It sounds more like a chicken,” another person said.

  “It’s just a cricket,” Chloe announced, as sure of herself as ever.

  Mr. Burns frowned. “That’s the noise of a hermit-crab fight.”

  The crabs! Finch jumped up and ran to the tank. Anthony’s old shell was lying on its side. Finch could see it was empty. The little crab must have moved into the new shell. But it looked like Phillip wanted it, too. With his walking claws, the bigger crab was shaking the swirly shell back and forth. His big claw poked into the opening as if he were trying to pinch Anthony.

  “Phillip, stop—leave Anthony alone!” Finch yelped.

  The entire class scrambled to the Critter Corner to watch.

  Finch lifted the cover off the tank and reached inside. He tried to pull the crabs apart. Suddenly Phillip pinched the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Ouch!” Finch shook his hand free. Phillip went back to poking at Anthony. The chirping in the tank got louder and faster.

  Finch grabbed the misting bottle and began pumping so fast he created a rainstorm in the tank. To his relief, Phillip released Anthony and began backing away from the spray. Fin’s classmates cheered. But in another moment, Anthony’s grayish-white body slid out of the new shell.

  “Look, it’s sushi!” Thorn yelled.

  Some of the kids laughed. But Finch was horrified. Was Anthony dead? He wasn’t moving at all.

  Suddenly Thorn shouted, “Crab attack! Crab attack!”

  Bud pumped his fist. “Phillip’s gonna eat the sushi.”

  Zoe, Chloe, and Kayla started squealing as Phillip scuttled toward Anthony again. His fighting claw was up and ready. But he just climbed over Anthony and kept going. Then he slipped out of his old shell and flipped his saggy abdomen into the swirly new one.

  “Ooooh.” The kids breathed as if they were one giant organism.

  “No fair! He stole Anthony’s home,” Elliott complained.

  Still and limp, Anthony lay on the gravel. He didn’t look as if he would be needing a home anymore.

  “I thought a bigger shell would help,” Finch croaked. “I thought it would make Anthony feel proud so he wouldn’t be so shy or scared. I never thought Phillip would—” The rest of the words got choked in his throat.

  “I want everyone back in their seats,” Mr. Burns ordered in a quiet voice. “Anthony is very stressed out right now. We need to leave him alone and hope that he recovers. No running or jumping near his tank. No loud noises. He may move back into his or Phillip’s old shell.”

  Thorn raised his hand. “What if he doesn’t? ’Cause I read that a healthy crab will sometimes eat a dying one.” He twisted around and smirked at Finch.

  O son of a scorpion! May you sit upon your own stinger!

  The Thinking Cape’s words were like rocket fuel in Fin’s veins. They launched him up out of his chair. “SHUT UP, YOU SCORPION! I HOPE YOU SIT ON YOUR STINGER!” he screamed at Thorn. Without waiting for Mr. Burns to say anything, he grabbed his backpack and sent himself to the principal’s office. As he ran down the corridor, he could hear his classmates laughing.

  18

  INVITING TROUBLE

  When the students came in after recess, Finch was back at his desk. He was reading one of Mr. Burns’s books about hermit crabs.

  “What happened?” Raj whispered as he slipped into the chair beside him. “What did Mr. Kutler say?”

  “He said since I already knew I shouldn’t have disrupted the class, I didn’t need a lecture. But he made me stay for a cooling-off period. I helped him organize his books and magazines, and he got us pizza for lunch. Afterward, he told me to go and apologize to Mr. Burns.”

  Elliott’s mouth opened so wide, a pigeon could have flown inside. “I can’t believe you had pizza with the principal! Tomorrow I’m going to tell someone in class to shut up.”

  “What about Mr. Burns? Was he mad?” Kev asked.

  “Not exactly. He used the word disappointed. He said he didn’t know what had come over me.” Finch shook his head. Actually, he knew what had made him lose it—the Thinking Cape. It had been what his mom would call “a bad influence.”

  Kev scowled. “Mr. Burns should have sent Thorn to the principal’s office.”

  “Yeah. But it wasn’t so bad,” Finch said. “I got to see Anthony move back into his old shell. It happened when I got back to the room. Mr. Burns watched with me.”

  “At least Anthony is okay,” Raj said.

  Finch glanced at the tank. “For now.”

  “I know one person who’s still really mad.” Kevin jerked his head toward Thorn. “At recess, Tyler and Pierre started calling him Thorpion. You should’ve seen how mad he looked—like he was going to bite their heads off. It’s a good thing my mom is picking us up today. At least you won’t run into him on the way home.” The guys were going to Kev’s house to make invitations for Mr. Burns’s birthday party.

  Finch let out a sigh. Now he knew what the cape had meant when it said, A melon seed in the ground may one day reappear a thousand times bigger and fatter and pop you in the nose. Trouble was coming. Maybe he’d get to avoid it today. But just like the Thinking C
ape, he could sense that it was on its way.

  Kev’s mom was waiting in her minivan when the guys got out of school. “How was your day, boys?” she asked as they buckled themselves in.

  Everyone but Finch answered, “Fine.” The word that described his day couldn’t be said in front of Mrs. Chan.

  Kev fished out a pack of markers from the seat pocket in front of him. He had markers stashed all over—under his pillow, in the bottom of his sleeping bag, and in the toothbrush holder in his bathroom. He pulled out a pad. “Does anyone have an idea for the cover of the invitations?”

  “We could draw balloons,” Raj suggested.

  “B-O-R-I-N-G,” Elliott spelled.

  Kev began doodling. “What about a bugle? Only instead of Flaaah, it could have the word Shhh coming out of the bottom.” He turned his paper around so the guys could see. In just a few strokes, he’d drawn a bugle with a curving tube, a bell-shaped bottom, and three buttons on top.

  “That’s awesome,” Elliott said.

  “Yeah,” Finch agreed. The sketch looked so real he could almost hear it go Flaaah!

  “What are you guys making back there?” Mrs. Chan asked.

  “A card for our teacher’s birthday,” Kev answered. It was mostly true. An invitation was a type of card.

  “We’d better get busy right away,” Raj said softly. “We need to make enough cards for all the teachers, the other school staff, and our classmates.”

  “Except Thorn and Bud,” Fin whispered.

  Raj blinked at him. “We’ve got to invite them. We can’t just leave them out.”

  “Why not?” Fin hissed. He felt like shouting, but he didn’t want Mrs. Chan to hear.

  “Because they’ll kill us when they find out about it,” Elliott murmured.

  “Forget it,” Fin mouthed. He leaned back against the seat and shut his eyes until Kev’s mother pulled into the driveway.

  The boys dashed into Kev’s room and spread out around his worktable. Kev dropped a briefcase full of markers and a stack of paper in the middle.

  “We’re not inviting Thorn and Bud,” Finch insisted while he tied on the Thinking Cape.