Evil Never Sleeps In — Part II
“I don’t know, Guy,” Miles said, his cheek full of baloney. “CK is the coolest.”
“First of all, the snob only lets his friends call him CK,” I corrected. “And secondly, he’s a jerk. I’m telling you. After I finished the dishes, he totally started calling me Spuddy even though he knew my name was Speedy.”
“Maybe it was a secret code and you missed the cue.”
“Yeah. A secret jerk code.”
Miles and I have been best friends since the second grade, when I made milk shoot out his nose. We always hang out together at school and when I’m not sidekicking. He’s a little chubby, which he says is just baby fat, and has brown hair. He’s the only one besides my parents who knows my secret identity.
Not that I want to keep it a secret. Man, if it were up to me, I’d be standing on the top of the school auditorium screaming, “Look at me! Look at me! I’m a superhero sidekick!” until my throat was sore.
Too bad I have parents, huh?
“We don’t want some supervillain blowing up our house because you foiled his plan to rule the world, young man,” my dad had chastised me when I first became a sidekick.
“What will the neighbors say?” my mom had lamented. “It’s bad enough your brother’s a florist.”
I guess I should be happy that they even let me be a sidekick at all. But what else can you do when you wake up one day and your son can run 92.7 miles per hour?
Miles swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and the lunch bell rang. We threw away our trash and headed off to algebra class. It’s not like I wanted to take algebra. Heck, I’d rather be in home ec. At least then I would’ve gotten free food.
It was my sidekick sponsor’s idea.
“You never know,” Pumpkin Pete had enthused when I picked my freshman classes. “One day algebra may just save my life.”
“What about my life?” I had questioned.
“Oh yeah. Yours too, Spuddy.”
“Speedy.”
“Whatever.”
The first thing you did once you became a sidekick was to get a sponsor. All the new sidekicks who had met the rigorous admission standards of the Sidekick Clubhouse — and by “rigorous standards” I mean the check cleared — lined up in a row facing the handful of superheroes who, for reasons that most of us didn’t want to know and the insurance company wouldn’t let them tell, didn’t have a sidekick.
Then, and this is where the real scientific part came in, they picked us like they were picking players for their basketball team.
“Uh... that tall guy.”
“I pick ... the one in glasses.”
“Let’s see? Do you complain? Whine? No? I’ll take you.”
“Would you be willing to sacrifice your life to save mine?” Pumpkin Pete had asked me as he walked down the line.
“Uh...I guess,” I replied, not really sure.
“I get this one!” Pete shouted.
Pete is about six-foot-five, with long arms and a thin, lanky body. And, in case you couldn’t guess by the name, his head is a pumpkin.
“I’ve got all the powers of a pumpkin,” he proudly bragged to me just moments after he picked me.
I’m still trying to figure out what that means.
I sit in algebra class next to Prudence Cane.
Don’tcha just love that name? I do. And her eyes, her smile, her hair, her smell, and even the way she pretends not to know I exist.
If super beauty were a power, Prudence would be the Titanic of gorgeousness. Wait. The Titanic sank, didn’t it? Okay, she’s the Titanic before it sank. But thinner. And without the smokestacks.
“Hey, Prudence,” I said as I leaned over her desk.
She blew a bubble with her gum and stared at me over the pink edge. “Hey, Gary.”
“Guy.”
“Whatever.” She turned her back to me.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I should’ve just said my name was Gary! I mean it’s just a name, not like I was attached to that “Guy” name anyway.
“Guy? Guy?” Miles asked. “What are you doing?”
“Shut up. My name’s Gary.”
This is what really kills me about keeping my powers secret. If I just told her the truth, just once, that I could win every track event, be the best basketball player in the school, score a touchdown every time I touch a football, she’d love me. She’d think I was as awesome as I thought she was.
Instead, I was sitting in algebra class wishing my name was Gary.
Maybe if I used my powers a little and stuff. Y’know, nothing really big, but just enough to be more popular. Would that be such a bad thing? I once read that with great power comes great responsibility. My power’s not that great, so do I really have to be that responsible?
The good thing was, now that I’d totally embarrassed myself in front of Prudence, I didn’t think my life could get any worse.
“Class,” Mr. Lang, the algebra teacher, said, “I’d like to introduce a new student to you. He’s just transferred from Crystal City Junior High School and will be with us for the rest of the year. Everybody say hello to...”
No. Please. Not him. Not now. Did I say my life couldn’t get any worse? I was right. It couldn’t get worse, but it could get terribly, terribly worse by, like, a hundred times.
“. . . Mandrake Steel.”
There he stood in front of the class. Tall. Handsome. Muscles. Great hair. And all the power and confidence of a really great smile.
“Do you know who that is?” I asked Miles.
“Yeah, Gary. The teacher just said his name was Manbake Style or something. Who cares?”
I looked around the classroom. The girls were already writing love notes.
I leaned closer to Miles and whispered into his ear, “Also known as Charisma Kid.”
“No way!” Miles erupted.
I smacked his shoulder and pulled him back down into his chair.
“Dude, I just violated every rule, bylaw, dictum, regulation, promise, and suggestion of being a sidekick. I don’t need you blabbing it to the world. There’s a reason they’re called secret identities!”
“Apparently, not to you,” Miles said sarcastically.
“. . . and I just want you all to know how excited I am to call Clearwater High my new home!” Charisma Kid finished.
Sure, no one else in the room knew he was Charisma Kid, but they didn’t need to. I mean, they call him Charisma Kid for a reason.
I heard some girl titter. I turned around to see who the unfortunate soul was. Prudence Cane not only tittered but practically swooned when Charisma Kid flashed a toothy grin her way and winked.
Charisma Kid made his way down the aisle and as he passed me, he cracked a small smile. “Good to see you again, Spuddy.”
“His name is Gary,” Miles defended.
Charisma Kid sat behind Prudence.
“This is so cool,” Miles said, leaning closer to me. “Maybe he’ll let me sit at the same table at lunch. Or maybe even sit next to him! I’ve always wanted to meet a sidekick!”
“I’m a sidekick!” I whispered in a sharp tone.
“Yeah. To a pumpkin.”
“Didn’t you listen to anything I said? Haven’t you been paying attention?” I hissed under my breath.
“What? What?” Miles defended. “I told him to call you Gary.”
I dropped my head onto my desk with a defeated thud.
“Okay, class,” Mr. Lang began, “let’s review the Pythagorean theorem — yes, Mandrake?”
Charisma Kid raised his hand and waved it over his head. “I don’t mean to interrupt, sir, but I just wanted to tell you what a striking tie you’re wearing.”
“Do you really think?” Mr. Lang asked, looking down at his tie. “I wasn’t really sure...I mean when I picked it out at the store...Do you really think?”
“Absolutely. In fact, if you teach half as well as you pick ties, I’m in for quite an amazing learning experience.”
Mr. Lang stopped for a moment, possibly feeling more handsome than he ever had in his life, and popped open his algebra book with renewed zeal.
“Was that the sweetest thing, or what?” Prudence Cane said to no one in particular.
With those eight words, no, wait. Seven. Uh... yeah... seven words, I realized I was in for the fight of my life. One where I was helpless to use my powers, and at stake was something more precious to me than the safety of the world.
Prudence Cane.