Help! We Have Strange Powers! Page 4

  He didn’t answer our questions. His tiny eyes moved from me to my brother.

  “Jillian and Jackson,” he said, nodding his head. “Twins often have special mind powers. Did you know that some twins even have their own secret language?”

  “We saw a thing on TV about that,” Jackson said.

  “But answer our questions,” I said. “Why did you force us to come here? Did that weird guy hypnotize us or something?”

  He frowned at me. “Please, Jillian, relax,” he said in his soft, smooth voice. “I’m not going to keep you here for long. I’m going to send you back home in a short while — if you cooperate.”

  “Cooperate? Why should we cooperate with you?” I cried. “That old guy did something to our minds. He —”

  “That was Finney, my assistant,” he said. “If we pick up unusual brain vibrations at The Institute, we have to send one of our drivers to check it out.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jackson demanded. “Who are you?”

  “Please forgive my rudeness,” the man said. He rubbed his short, paintbrush beard. “My real name is very hard to pronounce. So everyone calls me Inspector Cranium.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “Cranium?”

  He nodded. “Cranium means skull. Some of my workers gave me the name. It’s kind of a joke.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Can we go now?”

  “Let me tell you what my job is. I do brain research,” he said.

  He stepped over to a keyboard and typed for a few seconds. A picture of a giant human brain appeared on the wall in front of us.

  “See?” he said. “A normal human brain. Some people think it looks like a disgusting blob of meat. But I think it’s beautiful.” He smiled and his gold tooth flashed again.

  I suddenly remembered my new powers. I turned to Inspector Cranium and tried to read his thoughts. But I couldn’t. He was blocking me out somehow.

  “Sometimes when people have special mind powers, it’s a good thing,” Inspector Cranium continued. “Take Finney, for instance. Did you know that Finney is a hundred and fourteen years old?”

  I gasped. “For real?”

  Inspector Cranium nodded. “He uses his special mind powers to keep himself alive. I think that’s wonderful — don’t you?”

  Jackson and I didn’t react at all. Could Cranium be telling the truth? Finney certainly looked a hundred and fourteen years old!

  Cranium’s smile faded. “Then sometimes special brain powers can be a bad thing,” he said. “I’m not saying you two have special powers. But let’s just say you do….”

  He scribbled something on his clipboard. His tiny eyes almost disappeared as he squinted at what he was writing.

  Finally, he turned back to Jackson and me. “If you had special powers, people wouldn’t know how to deal with you,” he said. “Your friends would treat you as outcasts. It would be a terrible problem for everyone. You would be treated like freaks for the rest of your lives.”

  I forced a laugh. “Well, it’s a good thing Jackson and I don’t have any powers,” I said.

  I glanced at Jackson. I hoped he caught on. “She’s right,” he said after a few seconds. “We don’t have special brain powers.”

  “Hmpf.” Inspector Cranium made a sound with his lips. He scribbled on his clipboard pad some more.

  “Well, that’s why I brought you here,” he said. “We usually don’t make mistakes. But let’s give you a few tests and we’ll see.”

  “Tests?” I started.

  Inspector Cranium raised one hand. A smile spread over his face. “Don’t be nervous. The tests are very simple. And completely painless. I’ll have you home in no time.”

  His smile faded quickly. “I’ll have you home in no time,” he repeated. “If all goes well.”

  He turned and walked to the other side of the lab. His shoes clicked loudly on the lab floor. He started turning dials, pushing buttons, and tapping on keyboards.

  “Listen to me,” I whispered to Jackson. “No way we can trust this guy. Don’t let him know we have special powers. If he thinks we’re normal, he’ll let us go home.”

  “But how can we hide it from him?” Jackson whispered back. “Maybe he did pick up our vibrations. Maybe he can read minds.”

  “Just concentrate on one thing,” I said. “The whole time. Just think about … think about Nina and Artie and how much you hate them.”

  Jackson nodded. “That’s good,” he whispered. “I’ll just think their names over and over.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  Inspector Cranium came clicking back to us. He carried a set of headphones in each hand. “Put these on,” he said. “They’re wireless.”

  I took the headphones from him. I held them in front of me, studying them.

  “Go ahead,” Inspector Cranium urged. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. It’s easy. Put them on.”

  I shoved them back at him. “Sorry. I don’t want to,” I said.

  His tiny eyes burned into mine. “Put them on,” he said softly.

  He kept his eyes trained on me. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

  I felt a tingling inside my head. A prickly feeling under my forehead.

  I tried to scratch it away. But the tingling became a dull ache. And then my temples started to throb … throb with a blinding pain.

  “Put them on,” he repeated, “and the pain will go away.”

  I took a deep breath. And pulled the headphones down over my ears …

  I didn’t hear anything.

  I started to think the Lerner twins’ names over and over. Nina … Artie … Nina … Artie …

  I glanced at Jackson. He had the headphones in place. I read his mind: Nina … Artie … Artie … Nina …

  I heard a low hum. The hum grew louder, then disappeared. Silence again.

  Nina … Artie …

  I looked up. Inspector Cranium was back against the far wall. He was tapping a keyboard and gazing at numbers on a large computer monitor.

  Nina … Artie …

  Across the lab, Inspector Cranium turned some dials. I heard a soft pulsing sound in my ears. A steady pulse.

  Beeep beeep beeep …

  The pulsing sound grew louder. Longer. Until it rose and fell like a deafening ambulance siren inside my head.

  I opened my mouth in a shrill scream of pain.

  But I couldn’t hear my own scream over the wail of the siren. My head throbbed and vibrated. The sound shook my whole body.

  Frantically, I grabbed the headphones with both hands.

  I tugged hard. The headphones were clamped tight to my ears.

  I struggled to slide them off. I pulled with all my strength.

  But they stuck tight, and the siren grew even louder.

  “Help me! HELP! It HURTS so bad! I can’t STAND it!”

  The siren faded.

  I could still hear it echoing in my ears.

  All my muscles were tight. My teeth were grinding so hard, my jaw ached.

  “You’re almost finished.” Cranium’s voice rose in the headphones. “I’m reading your brain impulses now.”

  I took several deep, shuddering breaths. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate. I started to repeat the Lerners’ names again.

  Nina … Artie … Nina …

  I heard a steady pulsing sound again. Just a soft beep.

  Nina … Artie …

  Then silence. A deep silence.

  I shut my eyes and tried to relax.

  A few seconds later, Inspector Cranium stood in front of us. He removed my headphones, then Jackson’s. His lips were pursed tightly. He didn’t look happy.

  “Very surprising,” he muttered. He studied us with his tiny bird eyes. He rubbed his beard. “Very surprising.”

  “Can we go now?” I asked timidly.

  “One more simple test,” he said. He pushed a button on the wall.

  Finney came silently into the room. A living skeleton with a kid’s body.
His tight skin was pale white under the bright lab lights, and his eyes looked even more sunken.

  “Jillian,” Inspector Cranium said. “Tell me what Finney is thinking. Go ahead. Concentrate. Listen to his thoughts. Tell me …”

  I could read Finney’s thoughts easily. I didn’t need to concentrate.

  Finney was thinking about a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream.

  “What is he thinking about, Jillian?” Inspector Cranium demanded. “Tell me. Read his mind, Jillian. Tell me what he is thinking about. Tell me … tell me … tell me….”

  I shut my eyes and scrunched up my face. I pretended to be thinking hard.

  “Uh … is he thinking about a new car?” I said finally.

  Inspector Cranium let out a long sigh. He rubbed his eyelids with his fingers. Then he handed the headphones to Finney and told him he could wait outside.

  Finney hurried away. He was so light, his shoes didn’t make a sound against the hard floor.

  “The Institute usually doesn’t make mistakes,” Inspector Cranium said. He was staring hard at Jackson and me. “We can usually pick up the vibrations. We always find the special brains.”

  My heart started to pound. What was he going to do next? More tests?

  Cranium let out another sigh. “Finney will take you home in the truck,” he said.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small white cards. He handed one to each of us. “My business card,” he said. “In case you ever need me.”

  I tucked the card into my jeans. Why would I ever need him? I thought. I don’t ever want to see him or The Institute again!

  Finney led us to a small panel truck parked in front. The truck had no writing on the sides. It was solid brown. It had a very small satellite dish on the roof.

  Jackson and I squeezed into the front beside Finney. I was a little tense. I mean, can a hundred-and-fourteen-year-old drive?

  I shut my eyes most of the way. But he drove very slowly and carefully, with both bony hands on top of the wheel.

  About twenty minutes later, we were in front of our house. Finney turned to us. His face was like a living skull. His eyes disappeared in darkness.

  “The Institute doesn’t make mistakes,” he rasped.

  I grabbed the door handle. The door was locked.

  “Are you going to let us out? Cranium said we could go home,” I told him.

  “Unlock the door,” Jackson said.

  Air whistled in and out of Finney’s throat. “The Institute will be watching.”

  “Watching?” Jackson said. “You mean — you’re going to spy on us?”

  “The Institute can send out its own vibrations,” Finney whispered. Then he clicked the door lock.

  Jackson and I leaped out of the truck. We didn’t look back. We ran inside.

  “Mom! Dad!” I shouted.

  Not home. Still at their dinner party.

  Jackson grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and downed it in one gulp. “I am totally creeped out!” he said.

  “Good old Nina and Artie!” I said. “They helped us fool a brain scientist!”

  Jackson and I slapped high fives. “Follow me,” I said. We hurried up the stairs to my bedroom. I dropped down in my desk chair in front of my laptop.

  “Let’s check out The Institute,” I said. “Let’s see what we can find out.”

  I did a search for The Institute. Nothing came up.

  Next I did a search for Brain Institute. Still nothing.

  “Google Inspector Cranium,” Jackson said.

  I did it.

  Nothing. Nothing at all about Inspector Cranium.

  “That’s totally weird,” I muttered.

  “Hey, Jillian — check this out!” Jackson cried.

  I spun around. He had the business card in his hand. The card that Inspector Cranium had handed to us.

  “I don’t believe it!” Jackson cried. “I totally don’t believe it!”

  He held the card up in front of my face.

  It read: YOU DIDN’T FOOL ME.

  Jackson and I decided that this was all too scary. We had to tell Mom and Dad. We knew it wouldn’t be easy, but we had to make them believe us about our powers — and about Inspector Cranium.

  The next morning, we hurried down to breakfast. Dad was hunched over the newspaper at the kitchen table. Mom stood at the sink, filling the teakettle.

  I grabbed an English muffin and stuffed it into the toaster. Jackson poured himself a glass of orange juice.

  I took a deep breath. “We have something to tell you,” I said.

  “You mean like ‘good morning’?” Mom said.

  “Yeah. Good morning,” I said. “Jackson and I — well, it’s a long story, and I know you won’t believe us. But it’s totally true.”

  “It’s kind of scary,” Jackson said.

  That got their attention.

  Dad raised his eyes from the laptop. Mom set the kettle on the stove and turned to us. “Scary? Like how scary?”

  “Are you in trouble at school?” Dad said.

  “No. Nothing like that,” I said. “This is different. This is kind of … unbelievable.”

  “Did something happen last night when we were out?” Mom asked.

  “We’ll tell you all about it,” Jackson said. “But you have to promise one thing.”

  “No promises,” Dad said sharply. “No promises till you tell us what it is.”

  “Okay. Fine,” I said. “It’s just that … well …”

  “Just spill it,” Mom said. She walked up behind Dad and put her hands on his shoulders.

  “What’s with all the hemming and hawing?” Mom said. “Just tell us what you have to say, Jillian. You know your father and I will always understand.”

  “Right,” I said. “Well … okay. Here goes. I … uh … well … Jackson and I …”

  I stared at Mom and Dad. My breath caught in my throat. I opened my mouth to try again.

  But my mind was a complete blank.

  I couldn’t remember what I wanted to tell them.

  I tried to think. I shut my eyes and concentrated.

  How could this happen?

  Mom and Dad both turned to my brother. “Jackson?”

  Jackson nodded. I could see he was thinking hard. He set down the orange juice glass. He cleared his throat.

  Dad jumped up from the table. “Will you two stop acting so stupid and tell us what your problem is?”

  Jackson and I exchanged horrified glances.

  My brain — it was empty. Empty. Empty.

  I suddenly felt sick. My stomach heaved. I pressed my hand over my mouth.

  I started to shake with panic. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with my brain?

  “S-sorry,” I stammered. “I don’t remember what it was.”

  “Sorry,” Jackson repeated. He had gone very pale. “I don’t remember, either.”

  “Guess it wasn’t very important,” Mom said quietly.

  “You’re both joking, right?” Dad said. “You cooked up this joke together?”

  My muffin popped up in the toaster.

  “Have your breakfast,” Mom said. “Maybe you’ll remember what you wanted to tell us.”

  “Maybe …” I said. I didn’t feel like eating. My stomach was churning. My head felt heavy, as if a big rock had replaced my brain.

  Jackson and I couldn’t wait to get out of the house. We had to talk. We had to figure out why we couldn’t remember.

  And as soon as Jackson and I headed out the door, our memories returned.

  I gasped as it all came back to me. I started to laugh. I was so happy I hadn’t lost my mind!

  Jackson and I both realized what had happened to us.

  Cranium. The Institute. Finney said they could send out their own vibrations.

  That’s what they did. They’d messed with our brains. They’d kept us from telling our story to our parents. They really were spying on us.

  “He controlled our minds,” I
said. “He kept us from remembering. I — I couldn’t even speak!”

  “I just have one question,” Jackson said. “If he has that kind of power … what else does he plan to do to us?”

  The next Saturday afternoon, Jackson and I walked to the Lerners’ house for their birthday party. It was a cloudy, gray day. Gusty winds sent leaves dancing down the street.

  I carried the birthday presents Mom had bought for them. A new Wii game for Artie. A gift card for a clothing shop at the mall for Nina.

  As we walked up the driveway, I could hear voices and music from inside the house. Before we knocked on the front door, we leaned over the stoop and peeked in the front window.

  “Oh, wow.” Jackson groaned. “Look at all the balloons. So babyish. Are they going to have a clown, too?”

  I saw big photo blow-ups of Nina and Artie hanging on the living room wall. And a hand-lettered sign above it read: TERRIBLE TWO!

  Yuck.

  “Come on,” I said to my brother. “Let’s get this over with.”

  But he had his eyes half shut. He was concentrating on something through the window.

  I grabbed his arm. “Jackson, what are you doing?”

  He giggled. “Shhh. I’m going to bust all the balloons at once.”

  “No, you’re not,” I said. I tugged him away from the window. “We’re going to be nice to them — remember? We decided?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Nice to them? Why?”

  “Because it’s their birthday,” I said. “Come on. Give them a break.”

  I knocked on the door. Nina swung it open. “Hi! Come in!” she shouted.

  She was wearing a short black skirt and a pink T-shirt that said BIRTHDAY PRINCESS in sparkly letters.

  She had earplugs in her ears. She saw me staring at them. “Loud music gives me a headache,” she said.

  She pulled me into the room. Seven or eight kids from our class were standing around, drinking punch from little paper cups.

  Mrs. Lerner stood behind a table with a brush in her hand. “Doesn’t anyone want to have their face painted?” she shouted.

  Totally embarrassing.

  Jackson hurried into the den, where Artie was playing a Wii tennis game with his cousins, two five-year-old boys. They kept begging him for a turn, but Artie wouldn’t give up the racket.