The Society of Super Secret Heroes (13 page)

BOOK: The Society of Super Secret Heroes
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Indeed, Master! Would you mind reading the one about the fisherman and the bottle again?
“Okay.” It was one of Fin's favorites, too. The story was about a simple fisherman who found a copper bottle in his net as he dragged it from the sea one morning. Finch turned on the flashlight and began reading aloud.
“Although it won't fill our bellies, my wife might like this pretty vessel,” the fisherman said. As he lifted it up, the bottle made a sound like the shifting of sand. The old man pulled out its stopper and turned it over. No sand poured out. Instead, a cloud of smoke rushed upward and a jinni appeared. It was so tall its head nearly reached the clouds, and so fierce its sword flashed brighter than lightning.
“Prepare to die, unlucky one,” the jinni boomed.
At first, the fisherman just gaped at the jinni. Then he asked, “Where did you come from?”
“From the bottle, you stupid worm,” the jinni replied.
The fisherman eyed the bottle. “I couldn't even get my big toe through that bottleneck. You could never fit in there.”
“Are you saying I'm a liar?” the jinni raged. With his flashing sword he sliced at the sky.
The fisherman shrugged. “Only a fool would believe you could fit in that small container.”
“You're the fool!” the jinni thundered. But though he stormed, and spat, and waved his sword, the stubborn fisherman still refused to believe him.
“I'll show you!” the jinni thundered. He turned into a cloud of blue smoke and wafted back into the bottle.
“Are you all the way in?” the fisherman asked.
“Yes, you numbskull,” the jinni's voice echoed.
“Good, then I believe you,” the fisherman said, and immediately pushed the stopper back into the bottle. With an arm that was strong from years of fishing, he threw it far into the sea. That was how a simple fisherman got rid of a boastful jinni forever.
“That's such a great story,” Finch said as he closed the book.
But it is not true, Master.
“What do you mean?”
The fisherman was clever, but he did not dispose of the jinni forever. Sometime later, my master the merchant purchased the same copper bottle in a shop that sold antiquities.
“What are those?”
Ancient objects of interest, Master. The merchant wanted to add the old bottle to his personal collection. But as he was about to set it on a shelf that held three other bottles, he heard a sound like the shifting of sand. So he pulled out the stopper and turned it over.
Finch swallowed. “And the jinni appeared?”
Exactly so. Unfortunately, it was still horribly angry. It was ready to strike down my master with its terrible flashing sword.
“Quick, Master,” I said. “Tell it there are also jinnis in the other three bottles—one who claims it is the most powerful in the world, another who says it owns the largest diamond in the world, and the third who is the most beautiful female jinni in all the worlds of the universe.”
In a shaking voice, my master did as I bade him.
“Is that so?” roared the jinni. “Well, any jinni who claims he is stronger than myself is a liar. And what do I care for diamonds, when I can take whatever I want from anyone, anywhere? But beauty is another story. I would like nothing better than a beautiful wife. Pull the stopper from her bottle and let me see her.”
The merchant obeyed. Nothing appeared. The jinni raised his lightning bolt of a sword to slay him.
“Explain that the lady is shy because so many unworthy jinnis have tried to woo her, Master,” I urged.
My master did so. His voice was so meek, the jinni had to stoop to hear it.
“Then I will enter the vessel to meet this lady—but only for a moment,” the jinni grumbled with impatience. “When she sees how handsome I am, she will certainly come out with me. Wait here.” And in an instant, he turned into a puff of red smoke and wafted into the bottle.
“Master, hurry! Put the stopper in,” I instructed.
Quickly, my master closed up the bottle. Then he hired a boat and we set sail immediately. When we reached the center of the sea, my master tossed the copper bottle overboard. That is the true story of how the jinni was disposed of for good.
Finch thought for a moment. “If the jinni was so ferocious, why didn't he just kill the merchant before he went into the bottle to look for the female jinni?”
But that is the point, Master. With my help, the merchant outwitted him.
“Again? After being fooled by the fisherman? Huh! That jinni was a real dummy.” Finch yawned. “I'm pooped. We'd better go back inside.” He began gathering his stuff. He was about to start down the tree when he thought of something else. “Cape? In the book it said the jinni turned into blue smoke. But you said it turned into red smoke. Which was it?”
A jinni can turn into any color smoke it chooses. It is a small matter.
“Oh,” Finch said. Maybe he was being picky, but there was something about the Thinking Cape's story that was bothering him.
20
BUSTED
“Do you really have to bring your backpack along?” Finch's mother asked as they left for Back to School Night. “What have you got in there, anyway?”
“Just some stuff I might need, like a pencil and pad to take notes,” Finch answered.
“Fourth grade must agree with you. You're so diligent this year.”
“What's that?”
“Hardworking. Careful.”
“Oh—I've had a lot of help,” Finch said.
His mother pulled him into a big hug. “I wish you'd give yourself some credit. But I'd also like an opportunity to thank your teacher—and whoever else has been helping you.”
 
A crowd of parents and students were already walking down the hall as they entered the building. “We're supposed to go to the gym first,” Fin said. “Mr. Kutler is going to welcome everyone.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his dad. He could hardly believe it! Even when his parents had still been married, his dad hadn't come to very many school events.
For the first time in years, he took his mother's hand. “This way, Mom,” he said, towing her along.
“Fin, hold on!” his father called as he wove in and out of the crowd.
Finch pretended not to hear. He stuck out his chin and kept on going—or tried to.
“Finch, that's your dad. We have to wait.” Mrs. Mundy began to slow down.
But Finch only tugged her harder. He hated having both parents together at the same time. He didn't know how to act. He was worried his mom might get upset. When his dad had moved out, she'd cried a lot. Why hadn't he stayed home with the blob?
“Finch, stop!” His mother planted her feet and refused to move.
“No rough play in the hallways!” a voice barked. A hand grabbed Finch's arm and yanked him around. Thorn flashed him the grin of a man-eating shark.
Finch stared at the name tag stuck to his chest. In red magic marker it said THORN—HOSPITALITY CAPTAIN.
“Is this a friend of yours?” Mrs. Mundy asked.
“Classmate” was all Finch could manage to say.
Thorn whipped a little notebook out of his back pocket and removed a pencil from behind his ear. “Sorry, but I've got to write your names down,” he told Mrs. Mundy. “I'll have to report you.”
“I'm a lawyer,” Mrs. Mundy told Thorn. “If you do, I'll haul your butt into court.”
Thorn's jaw dropped. “But you're supposed to obey the rules.”
“I'm sure the rules say you're not allowed to touch anyone,” Mrs. Mundy said. “Get going or I'll report you for Hospitality Abuse.”
“I didn't hurt him,” Thorn protested. But he began backing away.
“Mom, you're not a lawyer—you're an insurance agent,” Fin said when Thorn was gone.
“And he's no hospitality captain,” she answered. She giggled at her own joke.
Finch managed a weak smile. He knew she'd been trying to help, but his mother didn't understand. It was one more thing for the Thorpion to hold against him.
“Hello, Elaine.” Suddenly Finch's dad was beside them. On the shoulder of his sport coat Finch noticed a crusty stain. It looked like baby food or spit-up. Probably his dad thought it was cute.
“Hello, Pete,” Mrs. Mundy said, switching to the voice she used for business.
“How are you, buddy?” Mr. Mundy gave Finch a playful punch in the shoulder.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” Fin said accusingly.
His father opened his mouth but no words came out.
“Finnnnn.” There was a warning in his mother's tone.
“I thought I'd find out what you'll be doing in school this year—and meet your new teacher,” his father said.
Fin stared down the corridor. “Don't you have to be home with Jake?”
“Lisa is taking care of him.”
“But you don't like coming to this kind of stuff,” Fin said.
The tips of Mr. Mundy's ears were red. So were Fin's. “I want to be here, Fin. Is that okay?”
Finch shrugged. “It's a free country.”
His mom put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Fin. This isn't the time to—”
“It's all right,” Mr. Mundy said quietly. “I'll just head over to the gym. I'll see you in your classroom after the principal's talk.”
“I'm sorry, Pete. I guess Fin can't handle being with both of us together,” Finch's mother said.
“Yes, I can!” Finch snapped.
Master Finch, you should give your father a chance to show you—
Finch elbowed his backpack. “Quit butting in,” he ordered silently. “You're not my conscience.”
But, Master. It is not too late to say you are—
“That's it,” Finch murmured under his breath. “Pell-mell, a speechless spell!”
Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Come on, we'd better go, too,” his mother said. The tightness in her voice made Finch wish he'd never heard of Back to School Night.
 
At the entrance to the gym, they stopped. The big square room was set up with rows of folding chairs. Already, most of them were full. Mr. Kutler was up front, adjusting a microphone.
Elliott and his mom arrived. “Hello, Elaine. Hello, Finch,” Elliott's mother said.
“Hi, Ms. Levenson. Hi, El.” Finch felt relieved that his mother would have someone to sit with. Ms. Levenson wasn't married either. She and Elliott, and their big dog, Peewee, lived in an apartment near the campus where she worked.
“I think there are some empty chairs all the way on the right,” Ms. Levenson said. “We'd better take them before someone else gets there.”
Finch squirmed uncomfortably. “I've got to go to the bathroom.”
“Maybe I'd better go, too,” Elliott said.
Mrs. Mundy frowned. “Mr. Kutler looks almost ready to start.”
“That's okay, Mom. You and Ms. Levenson go in. We'll see you later.” Without waiting for her reply, Finch turned and ran. Elliott was right behind him. Finch was worried they'd run into Thorn or Bud, or one of the other hospitality captains. But they managed to get to the boys' room without being seen.
 
Kev and Raj were already there. “What took you guys so long?” Kev grumbled. He took the stack of invitations out of his backpack.
“Don't worry,” Finch said, although his stomach was doing gymnastics. “We've got plenty of time. Mr. Kutler really likes to talk. While you're delivering the invitations around school to the teachers, I'll do the ones for the kids in our class. Meet me at our room when you're done.”
He opened the bathroom door and peeked out. No one was in the corridor. “Okay, let's go!”
All the lights in the empty classroom were on when Finch arrived. As fast as he could, he stuffed an invitation into each of his classmates' desks. Then he went to his teacher's computer and tried the mouse. Good—Mr. Burns hadn't shut down yet. He clicked on the e-mail program. There was one more person he wanted to invite. It was a long shot, Finch knew, but if that person came, it would make the surprise party even more surprising.
To: Anthony Burns
[email protected]
Subject: Surprise Party
 
Dear Mr. Anthony Burns,
I'm a student at Middleburgh Elementary School. Your brother Mr. Slope Burns is my teacher. To help him feel at home, we are having a surprise party for his birthday. But I think the best surprise would be if you were here, too.
 
I am writing to you from your brother's e‑mail account, but please answer me at [email protected] so you don't spoil the surprise.
 
The party is here at school on Friday, September 30, at 3:30, seven days from now. I really hope you can come!
 
Sincerely,
Finch Mundy
Finch was clicking “Send” when he heard a voice outside the room. Quickly, he turned off the computer and hid in the kneehole space under the desk.
“Da da DAAA, da da DAAAH,” the voice sang. It was the theme from
Rocky.
Finch's stomach dropped like a stone down a well. He knew whose voice it was.
21
THE INSURANCE POLICY
“Heh-heh! This is going to be great,” someone else said.
Ugg. Finch knew who that was, too—the world's only talking dung beetle. He held his breath and listened as feet shuffled across the floor. They seemed to be heading toward the window.

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