The Nameless Hero (4 page)

“Gyfted and Talented? What the heck is
that
?”

Sophie and Milton looked back at me blankly. It was just one more question to toss on top of all the other questions that had been piling up that day. Like … how did those notes keep appearing out of nowhere? And was there any particular reason why the substitute librarian had just tried to kill us?

“Hey,” Milton asked, “can I borrow one of those notes for a second?”

“Sure.” I distractedly handed him my slip of paper.

He turned and wandered between a row of books, out of sight.

“This is really weird.” Sophie was staring at her own slip. “What should we do?”

My instinct was to throw the note away and do my best
to forget all about it. But I could already see the spark of interest flaring in Sophie’s eyes.

“You aren’t actually thinking about
doing
this, are you?” I asked.

“Aren’t you at least
curious
? This invitation must be pretty important, after all the trouble they went through getting it to us.”

“All the trouble? Are you referring to the invasion of privacy or the mutant shark lady that just attacked us?”

“Look, it says here we’ve got a week to decide. I just think we should keep an open mind.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” Sophie smiled. “So where did Milton go? He was just—”

“Hey, guys.” Milton popped out from behind a shelf of books with an odd expression on his face.

“There you are,” Sophie said. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” The odd expression grew odder. “Just—you know—securing the area. Making sure there aren’t any other monsters roaming around.”

“But why did you take the—”

“We should probably get out of here.” Milton handed the note back to me. “I mean—before anyone comes around asking why the library is such a wreck.”

Milton was definitely acting strange, but he had a point. Our corner of the library looked like a disaster zone.

“Well, we missed our bus.” I turned to Sophie. “Mind if we catch a ride with you?”

Sophie punched a button on her phone. “Stanley’s on his way.”

When Stanley arrived five minutes later, I could hardly believe my eyes. He pulled up in a shining black limo.

“The SUV’s in the shop having a flamethrower replaced,” Sophie explained, like that was the most normal thing in the world.

Milton and I climbed in through the back door, gaping. A long row of leather seats stretched along one side. On the other side was a mini-fridge, a flat-screen TV, and a built-in computer.

Stanley was in the driver’s seat. He glanced back at us, the sunlight reflecting off his smooth, metallic skin. He was wearing a bow tie and a chauffeur’s hat.

“Greetings, children,” he said in a smooth, automated voice.

Stanley had been the inspiration for Elliot. But except for the fact that they were both robots, the two of them had nothing in common. Stanley was tall and slender, while Elliot was squat and stumpy. Elliot had none of the cool features that Stanley had (unless you consider the ability to eat every fork in the silverware drawer cool).

Stanley turned in his seat, looking back at Sophie. “Your father notified me that he will be late this evening.”

A disappointed look came over Sophie’s face. “Again?”

“Yes, Miss Justice. The filming is apparently taking longer than expected.”

Milton jumped forward on his seat like he’d just been shocked. “Filming! What kind of filming?” His voice was loud with excitement. “Is Captain Justice, like, shooting a movie or something?”

Milton got this way whenever Captain Justice was mentioned. He couldn’t really help it. He was a huge fan.

“He’s not shooting a movie,” Sophie said. “It’s a different kind of project.”

“What
kind
of project?” Milton persisted.

Sophie’s hands bunched in her lap. An embarrassed expression crossed her face. “It’s nothing, really. Just a”—she lowered her voice—“a reality show.”

Milton jumped so high that he bumped his head against the sunroof. “Awesome! I can’t wait to see it! When are they gonna show it on TV? Can I be in it?”

Sophie obviously didn’t share Milton’s enthusiasm. She only stared out the tinted window at the scenery passing by. When she did finally speak, her voice was quiet and distant.

“My dad wasn’t home much
before
this show,” she said. “Now he has to get up extra early to meet with wardrobe and makeup people. Before, he was at least around the house
sometimes
—you know, when there weren’t any major crimes or photo shoots. But now …”

Sophie took a breath, her eyes peering out the window.

“I guess I never really expected a normal life. Not with my dad being … well—
my dad
. But sometimes, I feel like he doesn’t even know I’m there.”

I tried to think of something that would make Sophie feel better. At least her dad was a superhero. Try being the child of supervillains. Every time
my
parents got caught up in a plan, I had to worry that the world was going to end up annihilated.

Not to mention that Sophie had a way more qualified robot butler. That had to count for something, right? And he even knew just the right thing to say that would lift everyone’s spirits.

“Perhaps you children would like to see what’s in the mini-fridge,” Stanley suggested.

“Ooh, can we?” Milton asked excitedly.

This brought a slight smile to Sophie’s lips. She opened the door to the sleek silver mini-fridge. It was stocked with soda, orange juice, and sparkling water.

After that, everyone’s mood improved. We explored the rest of the limo, discovering that every seat came with a built-in control panel.

“What does this button do?” I asked, pointing at the panel next to my seat.

“That turns up the air-conditioning,” Sophie said.

“And this?”

“That one makes your seat eject two hundred feet into the air.”

I held my control panel a little more carefully after that.

Sophie explained a few of the other buttons. She leaned toward me, close enough that her hair brushed against my shoulder.

“This one makes hundreds of robot bees shoot out of the
exhaust pipe,” she said, pointing. “And this enables the energy shield. Oh, and here’s a cool one—”

Sophie reached forward and pressed one of the buttons on my control panel. I gripped my armrest a little more tightly, halfway expecting my seat to eject into the air or burst into flames. Instead, a shining disco ball lowered from the vehicle’s ceiling and shades unfolded to cover the windows. Once it was dark inside the limo, lights began blinking rapidly.

“It’s a strobe light!” Sophie said.

I waved my hand in front of my face. The blinking light made the motions look jerky and disjointed.

“Look at me!” Milton said. He was doing the robot.

Sophie and I couldn’t stop laughing. Even Stanley seemed impressed, which was especially nice, considering he was an actual robot.

Sophie hit a couple of other buttons on the control panel. Music blared through the limo, and the sunroof slid open. The three of us stood up with our heads sticking out the open roof, the wind rushing through our hair.

We were having such a good time that I hardly noticed when we pulled up to the street that Milton and I lived on.

“I’ve got to show you something,” Milton said once the limo had driven away. He shoved his hand into his pocket
and pulled out a slip of paper that looked exactly like the ones Sophie and I had received. I skimmed the words at the top of the note.

“Hold on.” I gave the note a closer inspection. “How’d you—”

And then it occurred to me. Back in the library, when Milton had asked to borrow one of the notes, Sophie had wondered where he’d disappeared to. Now I knew—he’d gone to use the copy machine. He’d created a note for himself.

“Do you think that’ll work?” I asked. “Whoever sent these notes probably knows who received one and who didn’t. They probably have, like, a list or—”

“I had to do
something
,” Milton said, his voice cracking. “You and Sophie—you get to have cool superpowers. You find mysterious notes. None of that happens for me. I just don’t …” Milton paused, glancing away. “I just don’t want to be left out.”

It’s weird how you can get so tangled up in your own head that you forget to think about anyone else. All the time I spent worrying about why I was receiving these notes, Milton was worrying about why he
wasn’t
.

Back at home, my parents were waiting for me in the dining room. And so was Micus. I’d been trying (unsuccessfully) to convince them to move Micus somewhere else, preferably someplace where I’d never see him again.

Micus was the mutant houseplant my mom had created. He also hated my guts. Whenever I got near, he would slap me with his leafy arms or throw clumps of dirt at my head. And any time I tried to retaliate, Mom got mad at
me
, not Micus.

Entering the dining room, I twisted sideways to avoid being grabbed by one of Micus’s branches. That was when I saw my parents seated at the table. Between them was a white envelope. By the looks of it, there was a family meeting in session, and I was the last to arrive.