Turnips, preferably
Dad’s talked to me lots of times before. Like about bike engines and basketball games and guy stuff, y’know. Not about where I came from and all that . . . yucky stuff. It’s bad enough I have to live with my family, I don’t want to know their secrets!
‘Don’t tell me . . . YOU were the Grazor?’ I stared at my father. I couldn’t imagine him swinging out of trees—I mean, he sprained his shoulder when he tried to lift his tennis racquet too high!
‘No!’
‘Then . . . you killed the Grazor?’
‘No!’
‘Omigosh! Mom killed the Grazor! That makes complete sense. She’s always walking around with that kitchen knife. Omigosh, my mom is the Grazor-murderer, wait till I tell . . .’
‘No. Will you listen to me for a second?’
‘No, I won’t. Dad, why didn’t I know about all this?’
Dad sat down on a sack and looked down at his toes.
He said, ‘Because I didn’t want you to ever know. I didn’t want you to be a superhero. It’s no life!’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I am a superhero’s son.’
‘Cool! Your mom was a superhero?’
‘No! (And they accuse me of always saying No to everything.) No, my dad was a superhero.’
‘But your dad is Gra! Omigosh, you were adopted?’
‘No! Gra was the Grazor.’
I gaped at him. I had to be sure he wasn’t joking. Dad is always joking about really serious things, like when I had to go get my milk tooth pulled out, and he said they had this technique where they’d staple up my mouth, and then pull it out through my nose. He sounded so serious, I cried for two days. Mom was mad at Dad, because she was the one who had to take me to the dentist, and I made it really difficult for her, even trying to jump out of the car window on the way there.
‘You’re joking, right? Gra can’t hurt a fly.’
‘Well, actually, Gra’s best superhero friend was the Fly.’
That got me. The Fly! No wonder he was so nice to me. Did he know who I was? Did he see the spark in me? Or did he see the resemblance? Did I have Gra’s bent nose or bushy eyebrows?
‘Dad, why didn’t you want me to join Superhero School then? You must have known I had something super in me? Right, Dad?’
Dad looked down at his sandals. He squiggled his toe. Finally, he said, ‘Look at my toe.’
‘Dad, get serious!’
‘No, really. Look at my toe! Is that the toe of a superhero? It looks like an overripe potato.’
‘DAD!’ I screamed. ‘I don’t want to talk about potatoes right now.’
‘Okay, okay. Don’t fly off your broomstick . . . oh, that’s witches and wizards, not superheroes—got them mixed up.’
I glared at him. ‘Fow-cus, Dad!’ I sounded like Masterror.
‘Yup. Look, I did not inherit the super genes. That’s all. I don’t know if I was adopted. I don’t know if YOU are adopted . . .’
‘DAD! Am I adopted?’ I screamed.
‘I hated being a normal kid. I didn’t think it was fair that my dad used to fly around and zoom through windows and break walls, and I couldn’t even hit a tennis ball over the net. I had arms like matchsticks, and yeah, toes like potatoes, like I was saying.’
I had to get him to stop talking about potatoes and back to the point. ‘But the Grazor died, disappeared—everyone knows that.’
‘The Grazor just gave up being the Grazor and got a job in an office, that’s all. His wife and son couldn’t bear to see him go flying off every morning and notknow whether he’d survive and come back home in the evening at all.’
I stared at him.
‘The Grazor chickened out?’
‘That’s one way of looking at it. I think he just did a much braver thing. It’s tough work in an office, you know. There are barracudas out there in the fish tanks, and they feed under-performers to the barracudas every month.’
I stared at him, horrified, and then saw him grin. ‘Dad! Get serious! It’s not funny!’
And on that note, another shadow filled the doorway. Gra stood balancing on his
Dad’s talked to me lots of times before. Like about bike engines and basketball games and guy stuff, y’know. Not about where I came from and all that . . . yucky stuff. It’s bad enough I have to live with my family, I don’t want to know their secrets!
‘Don’t tell me . . . YOU were the Grazor?’ I stared at my father. I couldn’t imagine him swinging out of trees—I mean, he sprained his shoulder when he tried to lift his tennis racquet too high!
‘No!’
‘Then . . . you killed the Grazor?’
‘No!’
‘Omigosh! Mom killed the Grazor! That makes complete sense. She’s always walking around with that kitchen knife. Omigosh, my mom is the Grazor-murderer, wait till I tell . . .’
‘No. Will you listen to me for a second?’
‘No, I won’t. Dad, why didn’t I know about all this?’
Dad sat down on a sack and looked down at his toes.
He said, ‘Because I didn’t want you to ever know. I didn’t want you to be a superhero. It’s no life!’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I am a superhero’s son.’
‘Cool! Your mom was a superhero?’
‘No! (And they accuse me of always saying No to everything.) No, my dad was a superhero.’
‘But your dad is Gra! Omigosh, you were adopted?’
‘No! Gra was the Grazor.’
I gaped at him. I had to be sure he wasn’t joking. Dad is always joking about really serious things, like when I had to go get my milk tooth pulled out, and he said they had this technique where they’d staple up my mouth, and then pull it out through my nose. He sounded so serious, I cried for two days. Mom was mad at Dad, because she was the one who had to take me to the dentist, and I made it really difficult for her, even trying to jump out of the car window on the way there.
‘You’re joking, right? Gra can’t hurt a fly.’
‘Well, actually, Gra’s best superhero friend was the Fly.’
That got me. The Fly! No wonder he was so nice to me. Did he know who I was? Did he see the spark in me? Or did he see the resemblance? Did I have Gra’s bent nose or bushy eyebrows?
‘Dad, why didn’t you want me to join Superhero School then? You must have known I had something super in me? Right, Dad?’
Dad looked down at his sandals. He squiggled his toe. Finally, he said, ‘Look at my toe.’
‘Dad, get serious!’
‘No, really. Look at my toe! Is that the toe of a superhero? It looks like an overripe potato.’
‘DAD!’ I screamed. ‘I don’t want to talk about potatoes right now.’
‘Okay, okay. Don’t fly off your broomstick . . . oh, that’s witches and wizards, not superheroes—got them mixed up.’
I glared at him. ‘Fow-cus, Dad!’ I sounded like Masterror.
‘Yup. Look, I did not inherit the super genes. That’s all. I don’t know if I was adopted. I don’t know if YOU are adopted . . .’
‘DAD! Am I adopted?’ I screamed.
‘I hated being a normal kid. I didn’t think it was fair that my dad used to fly around and zoom through windows and break walls, and I couldn’t even hit a tennis ball over the net. I had arms like matchsticks, and yeah, toes like potatoes, like I was saying.’
I had to get him to stop talking about potatoes and back to the point. ‘But the Grazor died, disappeared—everyone knows that.’
‘The Grazor just gave up being the Grazor and got a job in an office, that’s all. His wife and son couldn’t bear to see him go flying off every morning and notknow whether he’d survive and come back home in the evening at all.’
I stared at him.
‘The Grazor chickened out?’
‘That’s one way of looking at it. I think he just did a much braver thing. It’s tough work in an office, you know. There are barracudas out there in the fish tanks, and they feed under-performers to the barracudas every month.’
I stared at him, horrified, and then saw him grin. ‘Dad! Get serious! It’s not funny!’
And on that note, another shadow filled the doorway. Gra stood balancing on his
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