Searching for Super Read online

  Sometimes when the sun was shining and I was safe in my house, I could convince myself that October Jones had forgotten about me. That he’d moved on to more important things.

  But other times I remembered the look in the villain’s eye. The look of hatred.

  October Jones didn’t forget.

  Hunkering down isn’t what makes a hero. Heroes get up and do something. Something big. Something important. Something that everybody notices.

  That is what I needed to do.

  2

  I’D CONK HIM ON THE HEAD

  “Pass the goat’s milk, please.”

  I slid the jar of white, frothy liquid across the breakfast table to Benny, then realized a second too late that he wasn’t paying attention.

  “Heads up!”

  Benny caught the goat’s milk just before it fell off the edge of the table. He poured it over his rice, then sprinkled on spearmint leaves and stirred it all together. He chewed on the warm mush as he poked at his phone.

  “Is Sinclair a good name for a goat?” Benny never looked up from his phone these days. “I’ve got twenty-six goats, and only five of them have names.”

  “Do you want seconds, Rafter?” Dad asked.

  I shook my head. I’d eaten enough of the superhero diet for one morning. The diet only allows us Baileys to eat certain foods, none of which are bacon.

  “Did you know the Johnsons don’t have a superhero diet?” I asked. “Juanita was telling me that sometimes for breakfast, she eats a cereal that has marshmallows in it. Do you hear what I’m saying? Marshmallows for breakfast.”

  Benny burped. “Excuse me. Ugh, goat’s milk doesn’t taste as good coming up as it does going down.”

  “Just because the Johnsons do something doesn’t mean that we should do it,” Dad said. “Marshmallows for breakfast isn’t going to win you any battles with a supervillain.”

  “Maybe not,” I grumbled. “But if I got in a fight with a supervillain, I wouldn’t want my last meal to be warm goat’s milk and rice.”

  We’d gotten home late last night, and Thimon hadn’t come out of his room yet. Dad said he’d finished his school year in Three Forks, so he wouldn’t be attending school here.

  My older brother, Rodney, came into the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas and a bathrobe. His superpower had been all in his brain. He’d graduated from high school back when he had his power, even though he was only sixteen. He’d spent the last three months struggling with our computer systems trying to get everything working again. Without his power, he was having a hard time getting the systems back online.

  Rodney held a tablet computer in one hand and a toothbrush in the other. “Hey, Dad,” he said, reading from his tablet. “Did you hear about Uncle Buford over in Haverford?”

  “Yes, I did,” Dad said. “But in his defense, the lumberjacks shouldn’t have stolen his chocolate milk in the first place.”

  “No, not that,” Rodney said. “He’s missing.”

  Dad put his spoon down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Missing? What are you talking about?”

  “Aunt Ellen called Grandpa this morning,” Rodney said. “Uncle Buford went out last night to do some shopping. He never came back.”

  Dad scratched his chin. “I’ll admit, Buford has never been that good at shopping, but even he can’t be that bad.”

  No one said anything until Benny finally said what we were all thinking. “Did the Joneses take him?”

  “I don’t know.” Dad drummed his fingers on the rim of his empty bowl, and then stood. “I’ll go out to the ranch after work and talk with Grandpa. Rodney, send a message to all the Baileys. Tell everybody to be on guard. Oh, and contact Mrs. Johnson as well.”

  Mrs. Johnson was Juanita’s grandma. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago we had thought of her as our enemy. Now we were working together.

  “The bus!” Benny jumped to his feet, shoveling the last of his breakfast into his mouth. “We’re off!” he hollered as he raced from the room.

  I got up and grabbed my backpack.

  “Be careful!” Dad shouted. “Bus, school, bus, home. Don’t go anywhere else. And remember—”

  “We know, we know,” Benny called over his shoulder. “Hunker down.”

  Benny and I ran to catch the bus. We took a seat toward the middle where we could speak in hushed voices and not have anyone overhear us.

  Benny frowned.

  “I’m tired of hunkering down,” he said. “We should be out there”—he jerked his thumb toward the window—“searching for October Jones.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “And what would you do if you found him?”

  “I’d conk him on the head,” Benny replied. “After I made him give me back my speed, of course.”

  “You’d conk a Super-super on the head?” I asked.

  “Sure I would,” Benny said. “I’m very good at conking. Besides, he might not be a Super-super anymore. You took away his powers.”

  This was the debate that had been occupying the Baileys and the Johnsons for months. Nobody knew if the Joneses still had their powers. I’d destroyed the device that had switched everybody’s powers in Split Rock, but the Joneses had used similar devices in every major city in the world. It was easy enough to imagine that they’d simply used another one.

  But if they did have their powers back, why didn’t they just come after us? Without our real powers we’d be unable to stop them. They could take us wherever they were taking our relatives, and that would be the end.

  So far, they hadn’t made a move.

  “I don’t know, Benny,” I said. “Let’s see what Dad says after he talks with Grandpa.”

  Benny pulled out his phone. “Sweet! My goat Rafter is pregnant again. She always has at least five little goats at a time.”

  “You named a goat after me?” I asked. “A girl goat?”

  “It’s harder to come up with names than you’d think,” Benny replied.

  Benny played with his goats, and I watched the houses roll by outside the window. As more kids got on, the bus began to fill with conversation.

  “My dad couldn’t even come to my birthday party last night.”

  It took me a second to recognize the voice of my friend Mike. His dad was a Split Rock police officer.

  “How come?”

  I didn’t recognize the second voice.

  “Crime is getting out of control,” Mike said. “The superheroes have disappeared. Nobody knows what happened to them. I mean, they really didn’t do much before—they kind of just fought each other—but I guess the bad guys knew they were there. Now my dad is gone before I wake up, and sometimes I’m already asleep by the time he gets home.”

  I looked over at Benny, who was still focused on his phone.

  I didn’t like what I was hearing. Before the superhero families started working together, I thought we’d done more harm than good. But we’d stopped going on patrols now that we were hunkering down, and if that meant crime was on the rise . . . I made a mental note to talk to Dad about it when I got home.

  The bus came to a stop, and Juanita climbed on. She wore blue jeans and a red shirt. Her hair hung in dark curls around her shoulders. I waved. She smiled and waved back.

  “Hey, Benny,” I said. “If you’re going to play on your phone, can you move forward a seat so I can sit with Juanita?”

  Benny didn’t even look up as he shuffled into the next seat. I stood to let Juanita sit by the window.

  “No Monroe today?” I asked.

  Monroe was Juanita’s cousin in the same way Thimon was my cousin. He’d come to Split Rock with his father, and now they both lived with Juanita and her dad.

  “No, he’s coming.” Juanita rolled her eyes. “He tripped over a sock last night and now he’s claiming his ankle is sprained.”

  Benny poked his head over the seat. “He tripped over a sock? How does that happen? Don’t you just kind of . . . step over it? Or on it?”

  Juanita
laughed. “Good question, Benny. I think he’s just faking it so he can make my dad bring him food, and get out of doing his chores.”

  I looked out the window and watched as Monroe hobbled on two crutches toward the bus.

  He was only seven years old. The bus dropped off a load of younger kids at a nearby elementary school. Monroe wasn’t old enough to know about the Johnson family secret—that they’re superheroes. But back in his hometown, he had noticed that Johnsons and Baileys weren’t supposed to get along. He’d brought a healthy dose of I hate all Baileys with him to Split Rock.

  For example, the first time I met Monroe, he walked up to me on the playground and bit my ankle.

  Our relationship had gone downhill from there.

  The bus driver jumped out of his seat to help Monroe onto the bus. Monroe paused at the top of the stairs, waved at everybody, and then said good morning in a high, squeaky voice. Monroe had dark curls and large, brown eyes. He was short for his age and had a slight gap between his two front teeth that sometimes made him whistle when he said his S’s. Everybody immediately fell in love with him.

  He stumbled toward us, all smiles and grins until the exact moment he sat in the seat across from Benny. Suddenly, his high, squeaky, cute voice became a high, squeaky, cute growl. “Good morning, you pot lickers.” He ended lickers with a whistle.

  “Cram it, Monroe,” my brother said.

  “Just ignore him, Benny,” I said. “You’re never going to win a fight against a cute seven-year-old. You’ll end up looking like a bully.”

  “Monroe, be nice,” Juanita said.

  “They’re Baileys,” Monroe said. “This is me being nice.” He turned his head and made a spitting sound. Back when we were fighting, every time the Johnsons said our name, they spit. We countered by shaking our fist every time we said their name. Seeing Monroe do it made me realize how silly it was.

  I heard the crinkling of paper in the seat in front of me. Sometimes Benny stayed up at night writing down insults he could hurl at Monroe. None of them were any good, and it made it worse that he had to read them.

  “Monroe,” Benny said, “when you were born, the doctor took one look at you and said, ‘Oh my, this baby is not a pretty baby.’” Benny snorted, and leaned over the side of the seat. “Rafter, am I right?”

  I shook my head. “I’d say stop while you’re ahead, but I don’t think you were ever ahead.”

  Juanita laughed, and that made me happy.

  Benny went back to his paper, and started reading more insults.

  “Sorry about that.” Juanita smiled. “I’ve tried explaining to Monroe that our families get along now, but I guess the Baileys back in his old city were pretty mean.”

  “Couldn’t you tell him about the family secret? That would clear things up.”

  “I asked my dad,” Juanita said. “For now, I guess we have to put up with it.”

  It had taken a while for Juanita to really trust Benny and me, but once she did, I was delighted to discover that my arch nemesis was a very likable person. She was also smart. She could think and plan and look at a situation from every angle. This was a good contrast to Benny, who had one approach—lower his head and run toward the danger.

  Juanita didn’t always follow along with everything I said, and I liked that. She challenged me to see things in new ways.

  She also helped me remember why we were superheroes. I loved to think about tactics, but Juanita was always thinking of others. She was a kind person. Right down to her shoes. Recently she was on a volunteer kick. In fact, it was the one exception to “hunkering down” that my parents had allowed us. We could hang out with Juanita when she’d found a new place to volunteer.

  “Oh,” I said, remembering. “My uncle Buford disappeared last night. He went shopping and never came back.”

  Juanita looked concerned. “He went missing? Have you contacted the police?”

  I shook my head. “You know, now that you mention it, we haven’t. You’d think that would be the first thing we’d do. Maybe my dad thinks he can handle it better than the police. He’s going out to Grandpa’s place to talk about what to do next.”

  “I’m surprised your parents let you come to school,” Juanita whispered. “My dad says that if the Joneses make a move, we’re all hiding at our headquarters. He thinks October will want to get revenge on the three of us more than anybody else.”

  Benny and Monroe were getting loud.

  “Seriously, Benny, just ignore him. Go back to playing with your goats.”

  Monroe slid across the seat so he could see both Benny and me. “I’ve got two words to say to you guys.” He paused, and then in his high, squeaky, dramatic voice, he said, “You two are morons.”

  “Monroe,” Benny said, “you need to go back to kindergarten. That’s five words.”

  I counted in my head. “Actually, it’s only four words.”

  “No . . .” Benny started counting on his fingers. “You . . . two . . . are . . .”

  “You’re counting syllables,” Juanita said. “Rafter’s right.”

  “Oh,” Benny said. “Four words. But nowhere near two.”

  Monroe didn’t stop to argue. He picked up one of his crutches and poked Benny in the ribs.

  “Ow!” Benny said. “You little stinker.”

  I turned my back on Monroe so I could keep talking to Juanita, but as soon as I did I felt a sharp pain in my side. Monroe had started poking me.

  “Monroe Johnson,” Juanita said, her voice firm. “You leave them alone.”

  Another jab. I decided to take my own advice and ignore him.

  “So, do you think the Joneses kidnapped your uncle?” Juanita whispered.

  Another jab.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I wanted to ask you if anyone in your family had gone missing.”

  Another jab.

  Juanita shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard of.”

  Another jab.

  “Like I told you,” Juanita said. “If something did happen, my dad and grandmother would probably lock me away in—”

  I timed it beautifully. I spun in my seat and grabbed Monroe’s crutch right as he tried to poke me. He pulled the crutch back and the rubber tip on the end popped off in my hand.

  “Now please leave us alone,” I said.

  Monroe glared at me with cold eyes. He made a pitiful sobbing noise, and then his face went from a scowl to a perfect depiction of agony.

  It seemed like the entire bus turned around to look at us. A girl sitting in the front came back to check on Monroe, who rubbed at his big brown eyes until it looked like he was going to cry. He hung his head and rocked back and forth in the seat.

  The kid deserved an award for acting. Even I started feeling sorry for him.

  “Monroe!” the girl said. “What’s wrong? Does your foot hurt? Do you need a doctor?”

  Monroe lifted his tear-streaked face. His lip quivered, and he pointed a trembling finger at me.

  “That muh . . . muh . . . mean boy,” Monroe said through fake sobs. “He broke my little crutch.” The word little came out as widdle.

  The girl turned and looked at me like she’d just discovered a cockroach in her milkshake. I knew when I’d been beaten. I tossed the rubber tip to Monroe. Unfortunately, it hit him in the forehead, and he shrieked. “He hurt me in my brain!”

  “You bully!” The girl sat down next to Monroe and put a protective arm around him, as if she expected me to leap out of my seat and start beating on the little guy.

  I sighed and rested my head against Benny’s seat. “Outsmarted by a seven-year-old.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Juanita said.

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied. “He’ll be eight next month. You were outsmarted by an almost-eight-year old.”

  That made me laugh. I blurted out, “I’m glad we’re friends, Juanita.”

  I felt silly as soon as I’d said it. For a moment, Juanita just looked at me. I couldn
’t read her face.

  And then she smiled. It was a perfect smile.

  “I was always a little jealous of you and Benny.”

  “Jealous?” I asked. “Why?”

  Juanita lowered her voice. “Being super is lonely. There are things you can’t talk about. Not to your friends, at least. You always had Benny, and I didn’t have anybody. But now I feel like I have somebody too.”

  A memory jumped to my mind. Benny and I were waiting to get on the bus. It was when we thought Juanita was a Super-super and that she was out to get us. I’d been terrified. I’d wanted to run. But Benny was there with me. My brother gave me courage.

  Juanita had gotten on the bus that day by herself. She’d known she wasn’t a Super-super, but she’d thought she was facing two kids who were supervillains.

  She’d done it by herself.

  Now there were three of us. The three of us who had stood up to October Jones. Together, we were strong.

  “I am your friend, Rafter Bailey. And I’m glad you’re mine.”

  The silence suddenly became awkward. I could feel the blood pumping in my temples, and I felt my face grow red.

  “Do you know what I think it means to be a friend?” Juanita asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Maybe it’s silly . . .” Juanita’s eyes held mine. “I think a real friend is always there for you. No questions asked. That’s the kind of friend I am. If you or Benny ever need me, I’m there. No matter what.”

  Now it was Juanita’s turn to get all shy. She looked down. I told a stupid joke to break the tension. She laughed, and the moment passed.

  But it wasn’t forgotten.

  We talked all the way to school. Even when other kids filled in the seats next to us, and we couldn’t talk about superhero things, we talked and laughed. The sun was bright, and school was almost over for the year. It was a beautiful day. A wonderful day.

  The calm before the storm.

  3

  I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO SING BASS