the power to spit fire, in which case a superhero would be very fortunate if there was a sudden rainstorm about to blow through.
I tallied up my answers and scored the practice test: 99 percent. Good job, me!
It was weird how Electra Allbright, creator of the totally fab Lightning Girl comic-book series, was so good at coming up with story lines that seemed so uncannily realistic. Since I was sure an Ordinary cartoon illustrator would never have seen the superhero manual, I chalked it up to her having a terrific imagination.
Super studying was thirsty work! I decided to take a quickbreak and go downstairs to see if Mom had any punch left over from the meeting.
Halfway down the steps, I stopped. Mom and Dad were in the living room, talking. And it sounded serious.
“I'm sorry, Maria. I just don't like it.”
“Brian, it's not as though I've never done this before. And besides…”
Mom's voice trailed off as she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. I heard Dad's footsteps going after her. He was saying something I couldn't make out.
I found myself wishing that invisibility were one of my powers. Then I'd be able to follow them and hear every word. Then again, even if I could turn invisible at will, I wouldn't have been able to do it just then, not when I was
on probation.
So I had to rely on the one power every kid has: the power of sneakiness!
Hopping from the midpoint step to the landing, then from the landing to the floor, I dashed across the living room area rug and flung myself behind the sofa just as Mom and Dad were coming out of the kitchen. I peeked around the edge of the couch and listened.
“Remember the last time you held a rally?” Dad was saying.
“Of course I do,” Mom replied cheerfully. “We were demonstrating at the high school to protest the new school superintendent's book-banning policy.”
“And do you remember how it ended up?”
“Hmmm.” Mom flopped down on the love seat and pretended to search her memory.”If I recall, it ended with the mayor, the high school principal, and me chained to the school library's circulation desk singing America the Beautiful' in three-part harmony.”
Dad gave her a mock scowl and sat down next to her.
“Oh …” Mom smiled sweetly and snapped her fingers as though she'd just remembered something.
“And
the superintendent resigned that very afternoon and all of the so-called offensive reading material—
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
, for heaven's sake—was returned to the high school library.” She beamed proudly.
“Maria, you're not dealing with a high school superintendent here. George Mitchell is a very wealthy man, and in business, that means power. He's not going to sit back and let people cast doubt on the way he runs his factory.”
I switched my gaze to Mom, waiting to see what she would say next. She didn't disappoint me.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said, her face serious now, “but the fact that George Mitchell is rich and well connected doesn't give him license to destroy the environment. I have a duty to this town to publicize what's going on at that factory.”
Way to go, Mom
/When she talked like this, it was easy to imagine how she'd been a great student activist.
Dad thought for a long moment. Mom and I held our breath.
“I'll tell you what,” he said at last. “Since this means so much to you, and since the environmental angle is a significant one, I'll call the chief and volunteer to be at the rally on Saturday. That way, I can keep an eye on you
and
George Mitchell.”
Mom squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
Relief washed over me. We were still going to make our protest!
Dad got up and went to his den to make the call. I waited behind the sofa until Mom picked up a home decor magazine from the coffee table and became engrossed in it. As quietly and quickly as I could (without violating my probation), I scooted out from behind the sofa and back to the landing, then took the
I tallied up my answers and scored the practice test: 99 percent. Good job, me!
It was weird how Electra Allbright, creator of the totally fab Lightning Girl comic-book series, was so good at coming up with story lines that seemed so uncannily realistic. Since I was sure an Ordinary cartoon illustrator would never have seen the superhero manual, I chalked it up to her having a terrific imagination.
Super studying was thirsty work! I decided to take a quickbreak and go downstairs to see if Mom had any punch left over from the meeting.
Halfway down the steps, I stopped. Mom and Dad were in the living room, talking. And it sounded serious.
“I'm sorry, Maria. I just don't like it.”
“Brian, it's not as though I've never done this before. And besides…”
Mom's voice trailed off as she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. I heard Dad's footsteps going after her. He was saying something I couldn't make out.
I found myself wishing that invisibility were one of my powers. Then I'd be able to follow them and hear every word. Then again, even if I could turn invisible at will, I wouldn't have been able to do it just then, not when I was
on probation.
So I had to rely on the one power every kid has: the power of sneakiness!
Hopping from the midpoint step to the landing, then from the landing to the floor, I dashed across the living room area rug and flung myself behind the sofa just as Mom and Dad were coming out of the kitchen. I peeked around the edge of the couch and listened.
“Remember the last time you held a rally?” Dad was saying.
“Of course I do,” Mom replied cheerfully. “We were demonstrating at the high school to protest the new school superintendent's book-banning policy.”
“And do you remember how it ended up?”
“Hmmm.” Mom flopped down on the love seat and pretended to search her memory.”If I recall, it ended with the mayor, the high school principal, and me chained to the school library's circulation desk singing America the Beautiful' in three-part harmony.”
Dad gave her a mock scowl and sat down next to her.
“Oh …” Mom smiled sweetly and snapped her fingers as though she'd just remembered something.
“And
the superintendent resigned that very afternoon and all of the so-called offensive reading material—
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
, for heaven's sake—was returned to the high school library.” She beamed proudly.
“Maria, you're not dealing with a high school superintendent here. George Mitchell is a very wealthy man, and in business, that means power. He's not going to sit back and let people cast doubt on the way he runs his factory.”
I switched my gaze to Mom, waiting to see what she would say next. She didn't disappoint me.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said, her face serious now, “but the fact that George Mitchell is rich and well connected doesn't give him license to destroy the environment. I have a duty to this town to publicize what's going on at that factory.”
Way to go, Mom
/When she talked like this, it was easy to imagine how she'd been a great student activist.
Dad thought for a long moment. Mom and I held our breath.
“I'll tell you what,” he said at last. “Since this means so much to you, and since the environmental angle is a significant one, I'll call the chief and volunteer to be at the rally on Saturday. That way, I can keep an eye on you
and
George Mitchell.”
Mom squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
Relief washed over me. We were still going to make our protest!
Dad got up and went to his den to make the call. I waited behind the sofa until Mom picked up a home decor magazine from the coffee table and became engrossed in it. As quietly and quickly as I could (without violating my probation), I scooted out from behind the sofa and back to the landing, then took the
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