CHAPTER EIGHT

A Quiet Dinner

No one spoke during dinner. Not a single word. It was super awkward. I think everyone was afraid to talk about what happened at the bank. I know I was. But once dessert was finished, Felicia couldn’t help herself.

“Peter, why did you think you could face off against Captain Tornado alone? That’s so crazy! You don’t even have the right powers to hurt him!” Felicia said. Then Gavin got in on the action, of course.

“I would have made a bunch of copies of myself,” he explained, acting out his faulty plan. “And then I would have jumped all over him until he was like, ‘NOOOO! Gavin, you’re overpowering me! You’re the best superhero in the universe!’ And then I would have—”

“You weren’t there!” I shouted, cutting Gavin off. My family seemed shocked at my outburst. I didn’t mean to yell, but I couldn’t stand listening to my brother any longer.

“Felicia and Gavin, it’s time for homework,” Mom said, escorting my grumpy siblings out of the room.

Dad and I sat for a moment, staring at each other. We hadn’t talked since the incident. I didn’t know if he was going to strangle me or just tell me how disappointed he was. His silence made me nervous.

“Keep your chin up, Peter,” Dad said, comforting me. “You’ve got heart. And you’ll get there—eventually. But for now, please remember, you’re just too young.”

Dad cleared the dishes from the table and patted me on the back. I could tell I’d let him down. After he left the room, I sat there in silence for a while, thinking about everything.

“COMIN’ THROUGH!” Grandpa said, bursting into the dining room in his wheelchair.

“You missed dinner, Grandpa,” I told him.

“No, I didn’t. I ate dinner at three o’clock! Then I took a nap.” Grandpa rolled his wheelchair beside me. “Ahhh. My grandpa senses are tingling again. Is everything okay?”

“Not quite, Grandpa,” I said. “I tried to defeat a supervillain, but it didn’t go as planned.”

“Why would you do something like that?!”

“Because you told me to!” I said.

“I did?” asked Grandpa.

“You did,” I said, “but I failed.”

“Well, why did you go and listen to me? I’m just a silly old man in a wheelchair,” Grandpa said, giggling. “Don’t worry, Peter, you’ll get ’em next time! There’s a lesson in everything. But it’s up to you to find it. And remember—no matter what happens, tomorrow is a new day!”

Grandpa grabbed the cookie jar off the counter and wheeled himself out of the room.

I cleaned up the rest of the dining room and went to bed, thinking about what Grandpa had said: Tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully, I’d do tomorrow better than I did today.