The Society of Super Secret Heroes (12 page)

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.

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.

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 Cape, 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.

Finch shrugged a shoulder. “No one asked you. You're a thinking cape, not a manners cape.”

“Dung beetle?” Raj exclaimed. “My grandma told me they've got those in India—giant ones that eat elephant poop.”

“Elephant poop!” Elliott and Kev began screaming with laughter. But Finch felt a flicker of irritation.

“I'm the master around here, not you,” he snapped at the cape. “Quit telling me what to do.”

Kev was still cackling. “I think the cape is right,
Master
. It's Mr. Burns's party, not yours.”

“Yeah,
Master
.” Elliott's blue eyes were wide with mischief. “Besides, with the principal and the teachers at the party, Thorn and Bud won't dare make trouble. So there's nothing to worry about,
Master
.”

The guys began laughing again.

“Okay, okay!” Finch agreed grudgingly. “We'll include them. But quit calling me Master.” He tugged on the cape. “Except you.”

They set up an assembly line. Elliott folded the paper. In black marker, Kev drew the bugles and lettered the word
Shhh
. With gold markers, Raj and Finch colored in the bugles. Everyone helped write out the insides:

“My hand hurts,” Elliott complained when they were done.

“Mine, too.” Raj waggled his fingers.

“How are we going to give them out without getting caught?” Kev asked.

Finch straightened the stack of cards. “I already thought of that. Back to School Night is the perfect time. Mr. Kutler told me everyone's going to meet in the gym first. So while all the classrooms are empty, you guys can put an invitation on each teacher's desk. I'll take care of the invitations for our classmates.”

“I love surprise parties,” Elliott exclaimed. “I can't wait to see Mr. Burns's face when we all jump out.”

“Wait a minute. I'm not wearing you to Mr. Burns's party,” Fin said. “If I did, everyone at school would laugh at me.”

“At a party? What for? This isn't the olden days. Ordinary guys don't wear capes. Besides, something could happen to you.”

“Yeah, someone might spill a drink on you,” Kev said.

“Or worse.” With a flick of his wrist, Elliott flung something rubbery and yellow toward Finch.
Splat!
It hit him in the chest. The Thinking Cape let out a yelp.

Fin grabbed the rubbery mess. “Yeah, you could get hit by flying puke.” He sent the fake vomit sailing back to Elliott.

The Thinking Cape was silent.

“What's the matter? Didn't they have fake vomit in old Persia?” El teased.

The guys hooted at the thought. But the Thinking Cape still didn't make a peep. And for once, it didn't talk to Finch all the way home.

In the middle of the night, Finch awoke with a start. A chilly breeze blew over his blanket and made him shiver. “Cape?” He felt around his mattress. Had he kicked it onto the floor in his sleep? He'd stayed up late watching an old
Superman
movie he'd hoped would cheer up the Thinking Cape. But the cape hadn't seemed to enjoy the movie. It had hung limply over his shoulders. It didn't laugh at any of the funny parts.

Finch sat up and switched on his lamp. The Thinking Cape was draped over the sill, hanging halfway out.

“Cape, what are you doing up there?” he whispered as he snatched it back inside.

“Did you stir up the wind again?” Suddenly Finch had a worrisome thought. “You weren't trying to get out, were you?”

Finch felt his throat tighten. The cape sounded depressed. Maybe he wasn't doing such a good job of taking care of it.

“I could show you how it feels to be closer to the sky,” he offered.

“Yep, let's go.” Finch stuffed his feet into his sneakers and tied the cape on over his pajamas. He grabbed his pillow, a flashlight, and his book and climbed out the window.

He was afraid someone might see the flashlight beam, so he trotted across the yard in the dark. He was used to running with his eyes shut anyway. When he got to the tree, he felt around the trunk for the wooden slats his dad had nailed up as toeholds. The breeze nipped at Fin's ears and the tip of his nose as he began climbing. But across his back, the cape felt as warm as a steam pipe.

“How do you like it?” Fin asked when they'd reached the wide, sturdy platform. He hadn't come up here since school had started. The crescent moon was like a big yellow smile in the sky. The treetops waved their leaves at him.

Finch tied the cape to the railing so it could flap without sailing away. Then he lay on his back with his pillow under his head. “Would you like to hear a story from this book?”