CHAPTER ONE

My “Super” Family

My name is Peter Powers. And I have superpowers.

I know what you’re thinking: How cool! Or maybe: I want superpowers! But trust me, you really don’t. Especially if you have a super lame power like mine.

I guess you want to know what my superpower is, don’t you? Well, my superpower is—ugh, this is reeeally embarrassing—I can make ice cubes with my fingertips.

See! You’re laughing. No one respects my powers—or me! Everybody laughs. But you know who laughs at me the most? My family.

Well, okay, not my mom and dad. They’re actually pretty nice and supportive, but I know what they’re really thinking. They probably have to be nice to me because of some secret parent code. Like me, my parents have superpowers. Unlike me, they’re actual superheroes. They have capes and masks and everything. They protect Boulder City, which is where we live.

If you haven’t heard of my mom, well, she can fly. She’s faster than a jet. I’ve even heard rumors that she can fly around the whole world in less than an hour. (I should ask her if that’s true.) So awesome.

Then there’s my dad. He can control fire with his mind! How cool is that? Or I guess that would be the opposite of cool, but in a totally rad way. His fire powers make it so he can fly and shoot blasts of flame. I wish that was my power.

So I guess the only people who actually make fun of me are my brother and sister. But they do it a lot.

My older brother, Gavin, is the worst. He’s fifteen years old and always playing pranks on me. Gavin has a superpower too: He can make copies of himself. So instead of having just one bully for an older brother, sometimes I have five. Yesterday, he went into my room and multiplied, and the five Gavins stapled all my underwear to the ceiling. (When there’s five of him, it’s easy for them to climb on one another’s shoulders to do stuff.)

Then there’s my younger sister, Felicia. She is super strong. One time, our car got a flat tire, and she picked up the whole van so Dad could fix it. She didn’t even break a sweat! I bet if she used both hands, she could pick up our house.

On top of being strong, she’s also really smart. She makes straight As. You’d think she’d be nicer, since she has everything. But she makes fun of me too. Like, if there’s one last cookie, she’ll be like, “You wanna arm wrestle for it?” Yeah, right.

Oh, and did I mention that she’s only nine? So yeah, I get bullied by my nine-year-old sister. Not cool.

Even my baby brother, Ben, has a superpower more awesome than mine. And he’s only two years old! He can turn invisible. He doesn’t make fun of me, but that’s probably because he can barely speak. Once he starts talking, he’ll probably be just as bad.

At least I have my grandpa Dale. He’s a retired superhero. He doesn’t get around much on account of being in a wheelchair, but he and I watch a lot of movies together. He’s pretty much my best friend in our house.

You probably think having a whole family with superpowers is neat or cool or super amazing. But it’s not.

Not when I have the crummiest power in the house. Not when my brother and sister pick on me constantly. And definitely not when I tried to fight a supervillain to get some respect.

What’s that? You haven’t heard that story? I better start at the beginning. It all began over breakfast.…