The Greatest Power by Wendelin Van Draanen

property’s large, tilting wrought-iron gate, he could barely believe his luck. “That was almost
too
easy,” he whispered.
    Sticky was perched on Dave’s (still invisible) shoulder, facing backward. “No sign of him yet,
señor
, but I would
ándale!
He is going to be one steamed tamale when he sees what’s missing!”
    So Dave squeezed past the gate and hurried along the road that led away from Raven Ridge. But they’d gone less than a mile when Dave started complaining that he didn’t feel well.
    “Ay-ay,” Sticky said. “Achy eyes? Squooshy stomach? Fierce bad headache?”
    “Yes!” Dave said, looking at the gecko with surprise. “You feel sick, too?”
    “I feel fine,
señor.”
    “So … how do you know how
I
feel?”
    Sticky gave a little gecko shrug. “That evil
hombre
used to get up-chucky when he went invisible for too long, too.”
    “Damien Black did?”
    “How many evil
hombres
do you know?”
    “So what do I do?”
    “Take it out, or you’ll be one pukey poncho.”
    “A pukey
poncho
?”
    Sticky simply shrugged.
    So Dave stopped, stuffed the sack of loot inside his backpack, took the Invisibility ingot out of the powerband, became instantly (and dangerously) visible, and continued down the mountain as fast as his feet could take him.
    Night had fallen while they had been in (and under) the mansion, but the moon was bright, and as Dave hurried down the long, lonely road that wound away from Raven Ridge, he worried about being spotted by Damien Black. Perhaps Damien had boy-seeking missiles he could launch from the mansion.
    Or hungry hounds he could unleash.
    Or rabid bats that would flutter frantically around his head and bite him!
    Damien Black was, after all, diabolically deranged.
    Anything was possible.
    But as Dave and Sticky finally crossed over the bridge that led into the city, no missiles screeched toward them, no hounds hunted them down, and no bats attacked with rabid fangs.
    They were, it appeared, safe.
    “Feeling better,
señor
?” Sticky asked as Dave hurried along city streets back to his bike (which, if you recall, he’d left near the bank).
    And that’s when Dave realized that he was, indeed, feeling better.
    All better.
    “Why does it make you sick?” he asked the gecko.
    Sticky shrugged. “Because being Invisibility Man is not nearly as
asombroso
as being the Gecko.”
    Dave frowned at him. “That’s no answer!”
    “
Sí
. But that’s because I have no answer,
señor
. How am I supposed to know? I’m a gecko. Maybe it messes with your DNA when you go invisible?”
    “Your DNA?” Dave glanced at the gecko, shook his head, then said,
“Anyway
. Do the other ingots make you sick?”
    “The other ingots? You mean the ones that evil
hombre
has?”
    Damien did, indeed, hold all of the power ingots but two. He had powers like Super Strength and Super Speed and Flying … powers that Dave hoped to someday get his hands on.
    (Especially Flying.)
    “Yes, that’s what I mean,” Dave snapped. “Of course that’s what I mean. Do all of them make you sick?”
    Sticky studied the tips of his little gecko fingernails. “I only know what happened to that evil
hombre
, okay?”
    “And?”
    “And he only really used Invisibility and Flying.”
    “And?”
    Sticky put his hand back on Dave’s shoulderand cocked his head. “And they both made him up-chucky if he used them too long.”
    “Great. Just great.” Dave huffed, then turned to Sticky. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
    Sticky shrugged. “I didn’t know it would happen to you. I thought maybe it was just that evil
hombre
.”
    “A warning would have been nice,” Dave grumbled.
    Sticky frowned at him. “Why are you being a grouchy gaucho? So you were sick. Now you’re better, right?” He eyed him. “And just in case I have to point this out to you,
señor
, Gecko Power has never made you sick.”
    “I don’t want to be the Gecko! I want to be Disappearing Dude or the Fantastic Flier!