Help! We Have Strange Powers! Page 2

  “What a klutz,” I muttered. I blinked. The fork was back on the table.

  My mouth dropped open. “Am I seeing things?” I asked him.

  He stared at the fork. “Weird,” he muttered. He shoveled a whole waffle into his mouth.

  Dad was frowning as he read the newspaper.

  “Do you really think they might shut down the car factory?” I asked.

  He finished reading something, then turned to me. “Jillian, how did you know I was reading about the car factory?”

  “I — I don’t know,” I stammered.

  I turned to Mom. “If you can’t pick me up after school, it’s no problem,” I said. “I can take the bus.”

  She set her coffee cup down. “How did you know I was thinking about that?”

  Mom and Dad both stared at me. “Are you reading our minds?” Mom asked.

  I laughed. “Maybe I am….”

  Then I looked across the table — and gasped. One of Jackson’s waffles was floating in midair!

  “How did you do that?” I asked my brother later. We were sitting in the backseat of the car, waiting for Dad. “How did you make that waffle float?”

  Jackson had a stunned look on his face. “I — I can’t explain it,” he stammered. “I stared at the waffle, and …” He lowered his voice to a frightened whisper. “Jillian, something weird is going on. I —”

  Dad climbed in behind the wheel. Jackson changed the subject. He started talking about the White Sox.

  I tuned out. I thought about breakfast. Something just wasn’t right.

  * * *

  At noon, I stepped into the lunch line at school. I called to Marci and Ana Li, my friends from the swim team, to save me a seat.

  And guess who jumped into the line ahead of me. Yes, it was Nina Lerner.

  “You don’t mind if I get in front of you, do you?” Nina asked. “I have low blood sugar. I have to eat something right away.”

  “No problem,” I muttered.

  She picked up a soup bowl, started to raise the lid on the big soup pot, and then put it down. “The soup is probably too spicy. It will upset my stomach.”

  “No, it won’t,” I said. “It’s just chicken soup. It’s not spicy at all.”

  Nina spun around. Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? Jillian, I didn’t say anything about the soup.”

  “I — I heard you —” I said.

  Nina squinted hard at me. “I love that skirt and vest,” she said.

  “I got them at this awesome shop at the mall,” I told her. “You know. The one next to Dogs ’n’ Things.”

  The soup bowl fell out of her hand and crashed into pieces on the floor. “Are you a witch or something?” Nina cried. “Are you reading my thoughts? I didn’t say a word to you, Jillian!”

  She spun away from me and carried her tray down the line.

  I stood there, staring after her, feeling strange. I had a whistling sound in my head. No. More like whispering. Dozens of soft voices …

  “Wish I could have that dessert,” I heard Nina say. “But it might have corn syrup, and I’m allergic.”

  I gasped. I realized Nina didn’t say that out loud. She was too far away for me to hear her.

  What’s happening to me? I asked myself. I really AM reading her thoughts!

  I heard a scream from the other side of the lunchroom. I turned around — and let out a cry.

  A chair floated in midair above a table.

  Jackson sat at the table with a couple of his friends. The three of them stared up at the floating chair. Kids screamed and pointed.

  My brother had the strangest expression on his face. The others were crying out in shock. But Jackson looked like he was thinking hard. Concentrating on the chair.

  Was Jackson making the chair float?

  I remembered the floating waffle that morning.

  I had to talk to my brother. We had to figure out what was going on.

  Two teachers hurried across the room. One of them grabbed the chair and pushed it back down to the floor.

  “I’ve seen that trick on TV!” a girl said.

  Did she say it — or did I read her thoughts?

  I suddenly felt dizzy. Confused. I pressed my hands against my forehead.

  The bell rang. I set my tray down and hurried to class. I didn’t have any lunch. But I wasn’t hungry. My stomach felt tight as a knot. I couldn’t shake off my dizziness.

  On my way to Miss Hawking’s class, Brandon Meadows, a friend of Jackson’s, passed by me. He gave me a shy wave. And I heard him say, “Wow. Jillian is looking totally hot today.”

  I could feel my face grow warm. I knew Brandon didn’t say it. He was only thinking it. I read his mind!

  “I never knew he liked me,” I muttered.

  I was desperate to talk to Jackson about what was happening. But class had already started. He sat on the other end of the row from me.

  Miss Hawking was telling everyone to settle down.

  I waved at Jackson and tried to get his attention. But he had his head buried in one of his textbooks.

  I read his thoughts. He was bummed because he did the wrong science pages last night. He hoped he wouldn’t be called on.

  Could Jackson read MY thoughts? I was desperate to ask him.

  Miss Hawking finally got everyone quiet. “I hope you all did your homework,” she said. “At two-thirty, I’m giving a surprise quiz on it.”

  I glanced at the wall clock. It read 2:05.

  I turned to my brother. He had a sick look on his face. I could hear what he was thinking: I’m totally doomed.

  “Take out your wildlife notebooks,” Miss Hawking said. “Let’s see what you were able to find out about the manatee. We’ll start with you, Ana Li. Is it a fish or a mammal?”

  I didn’t hear Ana Li’s answer. I was scrambling in my backpack to find my notebook. Where was it?

  I pawed through everything. Then I remembered that Nina had borrowed it. And she’d never returned it.

  I hoped I could fake it. Miss Hawking gets very angry if we forget our notebooks. I glanced at the clock. Still 2:05?

  “Now, tell me,” Miss Hawking continued. “In what kind of waters can we find the manatee? Nina?”

  I didn’t listen to Nina’s answer. I turned and gazed down the row to my brother. He wasn’t listening to the manatee discussion, either.

  He was staring hard at the clock.

  2:05.

  Jackson didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t blink.

  I tried to read his thoughts. But I couldn’t.

  Why was he concentrating so hard?

  What on earth was he doing?

  “What other sea creatures are related to the manatee?” Miss Hawking asked.

  The discussion had lasted at least half an hour.

  But the clock still read 2:05. The hands hadn’t moved.

  Didn’t anyone else notice?

  I kept my eyes on Jackson. He concentrated … concentrated …

  I knew what he was doing. I knew he had stopped the clock so it wouldn’t be two-thirty.

  I tried to listen to the science discussion. Miss Hawking asked a question. “Sea lions and walruses,” I said. “In the Arctic.”

  “Jillian, wait till I ask the question,” she scolded me.

  I could feel myself blushing. Kids were staring at me.

  “How did you know what I was going to ask?” Miss Hawking demanded.

  I shrugged. “Just took a guess,” I said.

  Now more kids laughed at me.

  I jumped as the final bell rang.

  “Oh, good heavens!” Miss Hawking exclaimed. She glanced up at the wall clock. “The clock must have stopped. How did you all get so lucky? No quiz today. See you tomorrow!”

  Kids cheered. A few touched knuckles. Everyone packed up and started for the door.

  I ran over to Jackson. He was sweating. From all the hard concentrating, I guessed. He had a grin on his face.

  “You did that — right?” I
whispered. “You stopped the clock?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. I did.”

  “And you made the chair float in the lunchroom?”

  “Yeah, it was easy,” Jackson whispered. “And before I came to class, I closed my locker just by thinking I wanted it closed. Believe it? It’s totally awesome!”

  “I can read thoughts,” I told him. “For real. I can read your thoughts.”

  His smile faded. “No joke? What am I thinking about?”

  “A Snickers bar,” I said.

  He staggered back. “Oh, wow, Jillian. You’re right. You really can read minds!”

  We walked down the hall toward the front doors. “How did this happen to us?” I asked.

  He thought hard. “The fortune-teller?” he said. “The electrical shock we got from her booth?”

  “I’m kind of scared,” I said. “I feel so different. It’s fun. But what’s going to happen to us? Are we like superheroes now, Jackson? Or are we total freaks?”

  The next day, we had a soccer game in gym class. Mr. Bennett is our gym teacher. Everyone calls him Coach B.

  Coach B is young and tall and very hot. The girls in school all have crushes on him.

  We gathered around him as he started to choose up sides. But Artie interrupted. “I can’t play,” Artie whined, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have a runny nose and a stiff neck. Think I’d better sit this one out.”

  Good, I thought. He and his sister are both total klutzes.

  Artie may be the worst soccer player in history. He’s afraid to kick the ball. Afraid he might sprain his toes.

  “Everyone plays,” Coach B told him.

  “But my neck —” Artie said.

  “Get some exercise,” Coach B said. “It’ll loosen you up. Your neck will feel better.”

  Grumbling and rubbing his neck, Artie trotted across the grass to join his team. I saw that one of his sneakers was untied.

  I was on the red team. Jackson was on the blue.

  It was a sunny, hot day. The grass on the soccer field shimmered under the bright sunlight. We all played hard and had fun. It felt good to run during the middle of the day.

  With about ten minutes left in gym class, the game was tied 2 to 2. I moved the ball toward the goal.

  I could read the defender’s mind. I knew she was going to zig left — so I zagged right. She spun around, startled, as I sped past her.

  Was that cheating? I don’t know.

  I shouldn’t have thought about it. I made a mistake. I passed the ball in Artie’s direction.

  He stumbled over the ball — fell over it — and hit the ground with a loud “Oof!”

  The ball squirted out right in front of a blue team player. He moved it down the field — and kicked a goal.

  Now we were losing 2 to 3.

  Only a few minutes left in class. I saw Coach B checking his watch.

  Our last chance to score — but Artie had the ball. He dribbled it between his feet for a few steps. Then he pulled back his leg and gave it a hard kick.

  It was a powerful kick — in the wrong direction.

  “Look out!” I shouted.

  Too late. The ball crashed into Jackson’s stomach.

  He opened his mouth in a sick groan. His face turned purple, and his eyes nearly goggled out of his head.

  Jackson grabbed his stomach and dropped to his knees, gasping and choking.

  “Oops. Sorry,” Artie called.

  Coach B ran over to check Jackson out. But Jackson climbed to his feet and waved the teacher away. His face was still red, but he was breathing normally again.

  “Uh-oh,” I murmured. I could read my brother’s thoughts. And they were all anger … anger … ANGER. He was desperate to pay Artie back.

  The game had stopped while everyone watched Jackson. The ball lay on the grass at the near sideline.

  I saw Jackson scowl at Artie. And then he lowered his eyes to the soccer ball and stared hard at it.

  “No!” I shouted. “Don’t do it, Jackson!”

  I went running toward him. Too late.

  I couldn’t stop him. He sent the ball rocketing toward Artie’s head!

  Artie didn’t see it coming.

  He bent down to tie his sneaker.

  The ball sailed over his head and bounced in the grass.

  I stepped up beside my brother. He was breathing hard. His forehead was drenched with sweat. But his anger was fading. “Jackson, that was a close call,” I said. “Someone could have seen you.”

  Luckily, none of the kids noticed, and Coach B had his back turned.

  “We’ve got to be careful with these new powers,” I said. “No way could we explain to Coach B what you just did. And we don’t want everyone to think we’re freaks.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jackson said. Then he grinned. “Sorry I missed that jerk.”

  * * *

  Saturday morning, I needed my science notebook. And I remembered that Nina still hadn’t returned it.

  It was a dark morning with storm clouds moving low in the sky. The air smelled like rain, heavy and thick.

  I pulled a hoodie over my T-shirt and started out the front door. “Back in a few minutes!” I shouted to my parents.

  Jackson popped his head outside. “Jillian, where are you going?”

  “To the Lerners’,” I said. “I have to get my science notebook.”

  “Wait. I’ll go with you,” Jackson said.

  I felt his forehead. “Sure you’re feeling okay?”

  “Artie got a new Wii,” Jackson said. “I want to check it out.” He grabbed a jacket and followed me outside. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, Jilly.”

  “Don’t call me Jilly, Jacky,” I said. I poked him hard with my elbow.

  “We have to be careful with these new powers,” Jackson said.

  The newspaper sat at the bottom of the driveway. Jackson squinted hard at it — and it went flying onto the porch.

  I laughed. “Yeah. I see you’re being very careful,” I said.

  “Don’t want it to get wet,” Jackson said.

  We started to trot along the sidewalk. It had rained the night before, and our shoes splashed in the puddles. The Lerners lived in a big old house two blocks away.

  At the corner, two little boys tossed their bikes onto the grass and started toward a house. “Watch this,” Jackson said. He had an evil gleam in his eyes.

  I read his mind. “No — don’t!” I cried. I grabbed his arm.

  But I couldn’t stop him. He sent one of the bikes floating up off the grass … higher … higher …

  The little boys screamed in shock.

  Jackson lowered the bike to the ground.

  The boys stared at the bike, both talking excitedly at once.

  “Just keep walking,” Jackson said. “Don’t even look at them.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you,” I muttered through my teeth. “Do you really think this is all just a big joke?”

  “A superhero has to have some fun,” he replied.

  “We’re not superheroes,” I said. “We don’t know how long these powers will last or anything. We have to be careful, Jackson. We —”

  I stopped talking because we had reached the Lerner house. It was a three-story, green stucco house. The shutters were broken in front. The front lawn was tall and filled with weeds.

  I rang the bell. After a few seconds, Nina answered. “Oh, hi,” she said. “Come in. We’re busy planning our birthday party.”

  Big whoop, I thought.

  “I just came for my science notebook,” I said.

  “Oh. That,” Nina said. She led us into the living room. There were big moving cartons everywhere.

  “You can see we’re still unpacking,” Artie said, appearing from the back hallway. “Hope Mom and Dad get it done by the party. Not much room to hang out.”

  Nina sighed. “We’ve been here a month. But they just haven’t found time. And all the dust makes me sneeze. It’s really bad
for my sinuses.”

  “Where are your parents?” I asked, glancing around. I saw a den on the other side of the living room. A big-screen TV was on with some kind of Wii game on the screen.

  “Shopping,” Nina said. “Getting stuff to make the birthday cake.”

  “We need a big cake,” Artie said. “We invited everyone in class.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  “I can’t decide what kind,” Nina said. “I can’t eat chocolate. It gives me a rash. So chocolate is out. Mom wanted to make a coconut cake. But Artie and I hate coconut. It gets stuck in our teeth.”

  “Too bad,” I muttered. There was no place to sit down. The couch and chairs were covered with wrapped-up lamps and vases and other stuff.

  “We can’t stay,” I said. “Can I just have my science notebook?”

  Nina stared at me. Her face went kind of pale. I read her thoughts. There was a big problem with the notebook.

  She disappeared for a few seconds, then returned with her head down. She handed me the notebook. “I’m really sorry,” she murmured.

  The notebook was soaked. A soggy mess. I couldn’t even open it.

  “I tripped,” Nina said. “It fell in a puddle. I’m really sorry, Jillian. I’m so clumsy.”

  Yes, you are, I thought. I took really careful notes. I wanted to get an A in science. But now …

  “Maybe you could dry it in the microwave,” Nina said.

  Brilliant.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said. I spun around, looking for my brother.

  I saw him in the den with Artie. They both stood side by side, staring at the TV screen with game controllers in their hands.

  “Move it this way, and it moves the fighter’s hands,” Artie was explaining.

  I took a few steps toward the den. “Jackson, we’ve got to go,” I said.

  He didn’t hear me. He loved Wii games. He and Artie began playing a boxing game. Swinging their fists and dancing around like boxers.

  They were punching the air with their fists. And the boxers on the screen followed their moves.

  “Unh unh unh.” My brother was really into it. He started groaning with each punch that he threw. On the big TV screen, the two boxers were pounding each other.

  And then, Artie seemed to stumble. His punch went wide — and he slammed his fist into my brother’s jaw.