We do. We have a plan. It’s a good one too.
Once we’ve worked it all out, I head home to get a good night’s rest. It’s important to be well slept before a good day of revenge.
I mean, justice. Justice.
Maybe with a little bit of revenge. Just a smidge.
Either way, Funny Kid is going to beat Famous Kid once and for all.
Although, now that I think about it, there is a problem that’s been niggling away at the back of my very busy brain.
It won’t actually be Funny Kid beating Famous Kid.
It will be ThunderButt beating Famous Kid.
I’m beginning to realise there’s a problem with this whole superhero thing. I hadn’t noticed it until I became an actual hero.
You don’t actually become famous. Your superhero does.
See, the only reason I became a superhero was to become more famous than Spencer Daniels. Only Peter Parker isn’t that famous. Spider-Man is. And no one in Metropolis cares about Clark Kent. Superman is the star.
What good is it if I beat Famous Kid, but nobody knows it was me?
Somewhere along the way I’ve made a mistake. This was not the plan.
Quack!
I turn around. Duck is standing behind me. My feathered friend always knows how to find me when I’m stuck. He nods towards a nearby park bench.
‘You want me to sit on the bench?’ I ask.
Duck nods.
Ah, okay. I sit on the park bench.
Duck quacks and tilts his head to the side.
‘You want me to lie down?’ Duck nods. ‘I don’t want to lie down.’
Duck glares at me. Okay, okay. Most of the time it’s just easier to do what the bird says. He can get in such a huff when he doesn’t get his own way.
Duck hops up on the park bench at the other end, sits down and looks at me as if to say, ‘Tell me all your problems.’
Gladly.
I look up into the sky just as a cloud goes by that makes me think of cheeseballs.
Quack! That’s duck language for ‘Focus, Max! Focus!’
‘I’ve even succeeded at becoming famous. ThunderButt is everywhere! He’s on the TV, he’s in the newspapers. All the kids at school are talking about him. But they don’t know that it’s me!’
Quack! That’s what Duck says when he wants to say, ‘It sounds like you’re jealous of the made-up superhero you invented.’
‘Well . . . yes, I guess when you put it like that, I am,’ I admit. ‘I don’t just have to compete with Famous Kid. I’m having to compete with ThunderButt as well, even though I created ThunderButt!’
Quack! Which in this case means, ‘Well . . . Hugo was also involv–’
‘Shhh! Duck, that’s unhelpful.’
Duck rolls his eyes. So much attitude. He jumps off the park bench and starts to act something out. He puts his wings over his face, covering his eyes and then slowly lifts them up and over his head.
‘Peepo?’ I guess.
Duck does it again. Wings over his face and lifts them up over his head. Almost like he’s taking off a mask. Ohhh, I get it. You know what? That’s not such a bad idea.
‘Do you mean, it’s time to take off my mask and show everyone that I am ThunderButt?’
Duck does a slow nod.
Superheroes never do that. They spend their whole time trying not to take off the mask. They’re always wanting to make sure people don’t find out their real identity. But then, I guess, they’re not really trying to get famous.
‘If I revealed that I was the real hero, then I could become famous instead of ThunderButt! But I’d need to do it in front of a lot of people . . .’ I say, trying to think. And then, ‘Of course! That’s it! The press conference! It’s the perfect moment.’
Duck rolls his eyes as if to say he thought of that five minutes ago.