all
oooh
-ing and
aaah
ing. Heck, that would probably be the first and only time I ever understood what Boy-in-the Plastic-Bubble Boy was trying to tell me. I could just see Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s face . . . when ...he... Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy . . . when he ... Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy ... Boy-in-the-Plastic — oh my gosh!
“We forgot Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy!” I yelled at King Justice as he was about to hit the door seal. “We left him stuck to the roof in his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice!”
“T minus one minute and thirty seconds . . .”
“Stay here, son,” King Justice said. “Don’t wait for us. Sometimes soldiers don’t return from the war.”
“You’ll never make it!” I warned him. Then I said something really surprising. No, not “Leave him,” which may have been a better idea. I didn’t even say, “My mistake, he was never here!” No. What I did say was, “Only my super speed has a chance!
I’ll
save him!”
I think the ship’s thin air was getting to me.
“You’re not going alone,” King Justice replied.
I touched his shoulder and looked into his eyes.
“Earth needs a King,” I said. “And Justice needs you.”
Oh, brother. Who knew I’d be so corny T minus one minute and ten seconds before I got sucked into space and popped like a human balloon?
Chapter Ten
Sucked into Space and Popped Like a Human Balloon
“T minus fifty-five seconds...”
“Shut up!” I yelled at the computer voice.
“Mmmmaph maaa!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy shouted down to me from his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice that still hung high above the deck by a steel chain.
So this was the end. Everybody was safely on their way to Earth in the escape pods while I paced beneath the human Christmas tree ornament that dangled from the ceiling. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it, but, and this may sound crazy, I never thought I would really get hurt. Heroes aren’t supposed to get hurt. That’s why they’re heroes.
But in the real world, they do. And maybe that’s what really makes them heroes — because they’re not perfect or superhuman; because they bleed and break like everyone else; because they might die, but they still rush into danger.
King Justice was right. Sometimes soldiers don’t return from the war.
“T minus fifty seconds . . .”
No. I may not return from this war, but I sure was going down fighting! I wasn’t going to quit. I would never quit, no matter the odds! I used my super speed to leap onto Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. No throbbing ankle pain could stop me now.
“T minus forty-five seconds...”
I landed near the top of the Giant Hamster Ball of Justice and immediately slipped down the side and fell to the floor.
“T minus forty seconds...”
It was a tough decision, saving Boy-in-thePlastic-Bubble Boy or smashing that stupid computer voice with a crow bar. I couldn’t do both. Luckily for Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy, I didn’t have a crow bar.
I tried again, racing even faster. I slapped against the ball and started to slide down the side again. I strained my arm muscles and stretched my hand in a frantic effort to grab the chain that held the ball in place. My fingers reached like a lazy man desperately stretching for the TV remote that fell off the couch.
“T minus thirty-five seconds...”
Inches. Tiny inches to go. Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy pressed his face against the concave wall of his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. His cheek squished like a bowl of pink Jell-O.
Maybe the cheek helped. Maybe my fingers were just a tiny bit longer than I had remembered, but I reached the chain and pulled myself up. At the very top was a release lever.
I pulled it. The Giant Hamster Ball of Justice fell and bounced hard on the deck below. I slid off the top, plopped on the ground, and was instantly crushed by Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy as he rolled screaming for the door.
Some
oooh
-ing and
aaah
ing. Heck, that would probably be the first and only time I ever understood what Boy-in-the Plastic-Bubble Boy was trying to tell me. I could just see Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s face . . . when ...he... Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy . . . when he ... Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy ... Boy-in-the-Plastic — oh my gosh!
“We forgot Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy!” I yelled at King Justice as he was about to hit the door seal. “We left him stuck to the roof in his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice!”
“T minus one minute and thirty seconds . . .”
“Stay here, son,” King Justice said. “Don’t wait for us. Sometimes soldiers don’t return from the war.”
“You’ll never make it!” I warned him. Then I said something really surprising. No, not “Leave him,” which may have been a better idea. I didn’t even say, “My mistake, he was never here!” No. What I did say was, “Only my super speed has a chance!
I’ll
save him!”
I think the ship’s thin air was getting to me.
“You’re not going alone,” King Justice replied.
I touched his shoulder and looked into his eyes.
“Earth needs a King,” I said. “And Justice needs you.”
Oh, brother. Who knew I’d be so corny T minus one minute and ten seconds before I got sucked into space and popped like a human balloon?
Chapter Ten
Sucked into Space and Popped Like a Human Balloon
“T minus fifty-five seconds...”
“Shut up!” I yelled at the computer voice.
“Mmmmaph maaa!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy shouted down to me from his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice that still hung high above the deck by a steel chain.
So this was the end. Everybody was safely on their way to Earth in the escape pods while I paced beneath the human Christmas tree ornament that dangled from the ceiling. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it, but, and this may sound crazy, I never thought I would really get hurt. Heroes aren’t supposed to get hurt. That’s why they’re heroes.
But in the real world, they do. And maybe that’s what really makes them heroes — because they’re not perfect or superhuman; because they bleed and break like everyone else; because they might die, but they still rush into danger.
King Justice was right. Sometimes soldiers don’t return from the war.
“T minus fifty seconds . . .”
No. I may not return from this war, but I sure was going down fighting! I wasn’t going to quit. I would never quit, no matter the odds! I used my super speed to leap onto Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. No throbbing ankle pain could stop me now.
“T minus forty-five seconds...”
I landed near the top of the Giant Hamster Ball of Justice and immediately slipped down the side and fell to the floor.
“T minus forty seconds...”
It was a tough decision, saving Boy-in-thePlastic-Bubble Boy or smashing that stupid computer voice with a crow bar. I couldn’t do both. Luckily for Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy, I didn’t have a crow bar.
I tried again, racing even faster. I slapped against the ball and started to slide down the side again. I strained my arm muscles and stretched my hand in a frantic effort to grab the chain that held the ball in place. My fingers reached like a lazy man desperately stretching for the TV remote that fell off the couch.
“T minus thirty-five seconds...”
Inches. Tiny inches to go. Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy pressed his face against the concave wall of his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. His cheek squished like a bowl of pink Jell-O.
Maybe the cheek helped. Maybe my fingers were just a tiny bit longer than I had remembered, but I reached the chain and pulled myself up. At the very top was a release lever.
I pulled it. The Giant Hamster Ball of Justice fell and bounced hard on the deck below. I slid off the top, plopped on the ground, and was instantly crushed by Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy as he rolled screaming for the door.
Some