The Caped 6th Grader (7 page)

“THE CAPE!”

Electra gave me a look that said
“Go
on,” so I did.

“It's got to be a new one—you'll have to go back and add a scene. Is that okay?”

“Of course.… Keep talking.…”

“Well, I know because I've read every Lightning Girl ever written that her cape is just made of your basic, ordinary indestructible fabric. But let's say somewhere in this book she decides she needs a more aerodynamic cape, and maybe a new color … how about here?” I pointed to a place near the beginning of the story.

“All right.” Electra made a notation on the storyboard. “And …?”

“And while she's at it, she asks the suit designer to upgrade the cape a little, give it some high-tech properties, like super-absorbency, which she knows has become all the rage among trendy superheroes. And the designer says, ‘Sure, I just got some superabsorbent fabric the other day, and the color would be divine on you.’”

“Yes!” Electra cried. “Yes, and if we put this scene in early enough, by the time Lightning Girl heads off on her mission to fight Riptide, she'll already have the new cape.”

“So when she's stuck in the room and the water starts gushing in, she can use the cape to sop it all up and save herself.”

“Wonderful!” said Electra, scribbling the image into the two empty blocks. “Zoe, this is brilliant. Frankly, I can't believe I forgot about superabsorbent capes—” She stopped short, her pencil pausing for just a second before it began moving again. “I mean, I can't believe I hadn't
thought of
superabsorbent fabric.

How lucky for me that you're so inventive!”

I smiled. “It just sort of came to me,” I fibbed. Of course, the fact of the matter was that I just happen to have a super-absorbent cape of my own, and it just happened to be stowed across the room in my backpack …

… which, just at that moment, started to make a whirring sound.

My backpack was
whirring?

Well, that was new.

I thought I saw Electra's pencil pause again. I swallowed hard, expecting her to ask what the noise was and where it was coming from. But she didn't say a word; in fact, maybe she hadn't paused at all—maybe I'd only imagined it. She seemed to be so into her sketches of the cape that she didn't even hear the whir.

“Uh … excuse me,” I said, and hurried back toward the doorway.

I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs with it, then ducked into the second-floor bathroom and closed the door.

Okay … now what? Something was whirring, but I couldn't tell what or where it was. I checked the front pocket of my pack, then the main one. I ran my hands along the straps and even fiddled with the key chains, which I already knew were just plain key chains.

Finally, I pulled out my supersuit and checked the tool belt. There, clipped to the left section, was what looked like a miniature walkie-talkie. I removed it from the belt and pushed the tiny green button that said Talk.

“Zoe speaking,” I said; then, to sound official, I added, “I mean, Kid Zoom here.”

“Well, hello there!” came a pleasant male voice. It was one of those twangy nasal voices that people often associate with old-time telephone operators. For a minute, I thought maybe it was a joke.

“To whom am I speaking?” I asked.

“This is Thatcher.”

“Thatcher who?”

“I am only authorized to introduce myself as Thatcher,” the voice informed me cheerfully. “Sorry, but rules are rules.”

“Um … how did you get this number?”

“Well, technically, it's not a number, it's a wavelength, but that's not important now. I am a dispatcher at the Superhero Federation's central communications hub.”

So I was talking to Thatcher the Dispatcher? Oh, brother.

“What can I do for you?” I asked, still not sure why this guy was contacting me.

“Well, I haven't had my lunch, so if you wouldn't mind picking up a pepperoni and anchovy pizza and speeding it over here, I'd be very grateful.”

I frowned. “You want me to bring you a pizza?”

At that, Thatcher cracked up. “Only kidding, Zoom. That was just a little dispatcher humor.”

“Oh.”

“Actually, I'm sending you on a mission.”

“Really? When?'

“Now.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Right now.”

A million thoughts hit me at once. I was about to go on my first mission without Grandpa Zack anywhere around to help. It
was exciting, it was terrifying, it was …
really bad timing!
What was I supposed to tell Electra? And what if she came downstairs and heard me talking to Thatcher?

“Zoom?”

“I'm here. What's the mission?”

“There's a cat stuck in a tree.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said there is a cat stuck in a tree and you are being dispatched to rectify the situation immediately, if not sooner.”

What was sooner than immediately? I wondered. And wasn't this a job for the volunteer fire department?

“You're kidding.”

“Nope.”

Well, I'd been hoping for something big, and boy, was this
not
it! But I was a superhero, and I was bound by Federation rules to undertake any and all missions assigned to me. Even the stupid ones.

“Fine,” I grumbled, pulling the rest of my Super getup out of the backpack. “So where exactly is this tree with the cat stuck in it?”

“Would you prefer latitude and longitude or the address?”

Well, since I'm not Christopher Columbus …
“The address, please.”

“Forty-seven-thirty-six Applegate Boulevard, Sweetbriar.”

“Got it.”

“Proceed with caution, Zoom.”

“Thanks, Thatcher.”

I returned the communication device to my tool belt, stuffed it into the backpack, and went back to the studio.

Electra was bent over the storyboard, finishing up the super-absorbent
cape.

“I have to go,” I blurted out; then, remembering that this was not a friendly visit but an actual job, I said, “I mean, would it be all right if I left early today?”

Electra looked up from her drawing, concern in her eyes. “Is anything wrong?”

Well, there's a cat stuck in a tree
, I thought wryly. “No. It's just that I remembered something. I have a dentist appointment today. My mom made it way before we knew about the work-study program, and I forgot to tell Mr. Diaz about it. And, well, it's one of those big-deal appointments—something to do with my molars, I think. Or was it my wisdom teeth? Well, either way, it has to do with the really important teeth, not just the regular ones, so it would be kind of a problem if I missed it.”

I thought I saw a smile tugging at the corner of Electra's mouth.

“Of course, I know it's also kind of a problem to leave work early, and some bosses might get really mad and fire a person, even if their molars
were
in danger.…”

Electra held up a hand to stop me. “Go,” she said with a smile. “Believe me, I understand about … molars. More than you know.”

I turned and hurried out of the room, taking both sets of stairs two at a time. On the main level of the house, I ducked into the powder room and was in my supersuit within seconds. On the front porch, I paused to get my bearings, deciding on the best and most discreet route to forty-seven-thirty-six Applegate Boulevard. Then I took a deep breath and got ready for some serious superspeed.

“Kitty-cat, here I come!”

THE
Zoo?

I skidded to a superhalt at the tall iron gates and saw that yes, the address given to me by Thatcher the Dispatcher was for the Sweetbriar Zoo. Weird.

The communication device on my tool belt began to whir again; I snatched it from its clip and spoke into the mouthpiece.

“Thatcher?”

“Who else?” said Thatcher. “Have you reached your destination?”

“I've reached the zoo,” I answered.

“Well done.”

“So I'm
supposed
to be at the zoo?”

“Yes, and there isn't time much time to spare. Move it. Go to the far west corner.”

I sped through the zoo. Luckily it was lunchtime, which meant
nearly all the zoo visitors would be crowded around the penguin pool to enjoy feeding session. When I was a kid, that was always my favorite part of coming to the Sweetbriar Zoo. Unfortunately the penguins' antics rarely lasted more than half an hour, so I wouldn't have the place to myself for long.

I zoomed on.

It was a pretty little zoo, with lots of shrubs and trees planted around the grounds. The animals in their pits and cages all looked well fed, clean, and content. But wasn't this a pretty strange place for a pet cat to be stuck in a tree?

I reached the far west corner and stopped dead. Yup, there was a cat stuck in a tree.

Only it wasn't a regular domestic kitty-cat, the sort of cat you'd call the fire department to rescue.

Oh, no. This was a bigger cat than that. A
much
bigger cat. A
tiger
, to be precise. It was Cleo, one of the Sweetbriar Zoo's star attractions. She was big, beautiful, and very fierce looking.

And she wasn't alone. There was a little boy up there with her, and she was creeping along the branch toward him!

I took a second to assess the situation. For safety, the tigers lived in a deep, wide area below the main level of the zoo. The pit was planted to look like a jungle habitat, with trees and boulders and a small pool. Visitors viewed the tigers by looking down through a tall fence. The tree that the boy had climbed was a giant old oak, which grew just outside the fence around the pit.

There was a balloon caught in the high branches of the tree, so I figured that the kid, who looked about four years old, had climbed the tree to retrieve it. The problem was that the oak tree's branches had grown over the fence and reached out and
over the tiger pit. The other problem was that one of the trees planted inside the pit had grown tall enough so that its uppermost braches reached the lowest branches of the overgrown tree.

Cleo must have noticed the boy and climbed the tree in the pit to reach him.

And now there they were, tiger and child, perched on a fat branch above the tiger pit, while two tiger cubs and another huge tiger—Cleo's mate, I guessed—watched from below.

I took a superleap into the tree, landing easily between the boy and the tiger with my back to the boy.

“Are you a superhero?” said a trembling voice behind me.

“Yup,” I said without taking my eyes off the tiger. Now I knew why they were called
big
cats. Close up, it was huge, with thick glossy fur, gleaming amber eyes, and neat round ears that were focused on nothing but
me.

The tiger let out a low growl, curling its top lip to reveal long, curved, razor-sharp teeth. My heart thudded, and I wondered if my supersuit could withstand tiger claws.

“I wanna get down!” the boy wailed suddenly. “I wanna get down
now!”

If I hadn't been so hypnotized by the tiger's eyes, I might have turned around and stopped the boy from doing what he did next … which was to fling himself at me, wrapping his arms around my neck, clinging for dear life.

“Can you fly?” he sobbed damply into my ear.

“Um, no,” I answered as the tiger crept closer. “But I can jump.” Clutching the child and holding my breath, I leaped off the branch.

“WHEEEEEE!”
he cried. Clearly, the
thrill of a superleap outweighed the terror of facing death by tiger.

I landed easily on the grassy area outside the fence of the tiger pit and managed to detach the boy from my neck. The tiger was watching us from the other side of the fence, lashing her tail in frustration. I held her gaze, determined not to let her know how much she'd scared me. She let out a huge roar, then turned and sprang gracefully back into the pit to join her family.

“Wait here,” I told the kid, then went over to the tree and braced my hands against the broad trunk. Summoning all my superstrength, I pushed the giant tree as hard as I could. It moved several feet away from the pit, dragging its deep roots with it. As I pushed, the tree left a wake of earth and pavement, but I didn't care. That could be fixed. I just didn't want to give Cleo a chance to climb that tree again and escape.

When the tree and all its overhanging branches were a safe distance from the trees in the pit, I went back to the little boy.

“That was fun,” he said.

“No, it wasn't!” I corrected him, in a voice I hoped was kind but firm. I was trying to model myself on old episodes of
Wonder Woman.
“That was a very dangerous thing to do. You should never have climbed that tree.”

He shrugged, as if all he could remember was leaping through the air.

I began to feel a shred of sympathy for parents. “Promise me you'll never do that again.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Where's your mommy?”

“Watching the penguins. I snuck away. I like tigers better.” He looked me up and down. “You're not Superman, are you? What's your name?”

I bit my lip. “I can't tell you.”

He pouted. “That stinks.”

“Yeah. Um … listen … I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I was here, okay? I'll get in major, big-time trouble if you do. You don't want that to happen, do you?”

The little boy shook his head hard. “No way. You saved my life. Even if you did forget my balloon …”

I heard voices approaching. “Yeah, sorry about that. Wanna see something cool?” I asked.

The boy nodded.

“Okay … watch.”

I took off at superspeed, and over the sound of the wind in my ears I could hear the kid gasp with amazement. I knew he'd get a kick out of the blur thing.

I ducked behind a trash can on the opposite side of the tiger pit just as the boy's mom raced up.

“Joey!” she cried, catching him in a hug. “There you are! Why did you run away from the penguin pool?”

“Sorry Mommy,” he said. “I just wanted a closer look at the tigers.”

Well, he sure got it, didn't he?
I thought. And that cat wasn't the only thing he got a good look at—he'd seen Kid Zoom up close into the bargain. I could only hope the boy would keep his promise and not tell anyone about his brush with a superhero. I was pretty sure that even if he did crack and tell the grown-ups who'd saved him, they'd just chalk it up to an overactive imagination. I decided there was no point in worrying about something I couldn't control.

I peeked around the trash can and saw that a zookeeper was staring at the “transplanted” tree in shock. Maybe he'd figure it was the work of a mini-earthquake or something. But I couldn't worry about that, either. It was done. I'd been careful not to be spotted. And the important thing was that the little boy was safe.

All I wanted to do now was find a secluded place, like maybe behind the reptile house, and change out of my …

UH-OH.

My backpack was still at Electra's house. I'd left it in the downstairs powder room with all my normal clothes and my school-books and …

… Grandpa's scrapbook!

How could I have done something so irresponsible? How could I have been so careless? Grandpa had warned me that it would be big trouble if that scrapbook fell into the wrong hands—heck, into
any
hands other than my own.

I needed to get my backpack, and fast. Luckily, being fast is my
thing.

First, I'd zoom home and get into my room by jumping through the window, so as not to run into Mom or Dad on my way through the house. I'd change my clothes, hide my suit at the back of my closet, then leap out the window and superspeed my way back to Electra's.

As I raced around the outskirts of Sweetbriar, I told myself that she probably hadn't even noticed the backpack yet; she'd probably been so involved in the absorbent-cape story line that she hadn't gone downstairs. And even if she had, what were the chances of her using the powder room? The house was huge. It had, like, a zillion bathrooms. Why would she trudge all the way down to the tiny powder room?

I was in my backyard in seconds, and with an effortless bounce, I was on the windowsill and scooting into my bedroom.

Suit off. Clothes on. Fast, fast, fast.

And now all I had to do was get back to Electra's place before she found the backpack.

I was two steps from the window when I heard the voices downstairs.

And realized I was too late.