Superhero School Page 3

  The Invincibles – it sounded good. The three of them stared at their reflections in the mirror with Pudding’s head nosing in between their legs.

  They had a name and costumes. All they needed now was to begin fighting Evil. But where did they start? That’s the trouble with living somewhere like Gormley, thought Stan, it’s not exactly crawling with criminal masterminds.

  He needn’t have worried, however, because at that very minute Evil was stalking the school corridor and was just about to knock on Miss Stitch’s door.

  FACT FILE: THE INVINCIBLES

  DANGERBOY (aka Stan)

  SPECIAL POWERS: Radar ears that sense danger

  WEAPON OF CHOICE: Tiddlywinks

  STRENGHTS: Survival against the odds

  WEAKNESSES: Never stops worrying

  SUPER RATING: 53

  FRISBEE KID (aka Minnie)

  SPECIAL POWERS: Deadly aim

  WEAPON OF CHOICE: ‘Frisbee anyone?’

  STRENGTHS: Organised, bossy

  WEAKNESSES: See above

  SUPER RATING: 56

  BRAINIAC (aka Miles)

  SPECIAL POWERS: Super brainbox

  WEAPON OF CHOICE: Quiz questions

  STRENGTHS: Um . . .

  WEAKNESSES: Hates to fight

  SUPER RATING: 41.3

  PUDDING THE WONDERDOG

  SPECIAL POWERS: Sniffing out treats

  WEAPON OF CHOICE: Licking and slobbering

  STRENGTHS: Obedience

  WEAKNESSES: World class wimp

  SUPER RATING: 2

  Miss Marbles was looking at the Gormley Gazette. A short news article on page five had caught her eye.

  She studied the picture of the masked supervillain. He looked a nasty piece of work. Thank goodness I’m never likely to run into him, she thought. A knock on the door interrupted her.

  ‘Yes? Come in!’

  A tall, rake-thin man entered. As he folded himself into a chair, Miss Marbles caught a faint whiff of cabbage.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘Actually, I think maybe I can help you,’ he said with a sly smile. ‘My name is Professor Von Hardbum.’

  ‘Von what?’ said Miss Marbles.

  ‘Von Hardbum. I come from a long line of Hardbums. But I’m not here to discuss my family. I’ll come straight to the point – I hear you are looking for a new teacher.’

  Miss Marbles noticed her cat had run off. She had a strange feeling that the visitor’s smile was familiar.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I have all the staff I need right now. Besides, Mighty High is no ordinary school.’

  ‘I know.’ Von Hardbum nodded. ‘But then I’m no ordinary teacher. I’m not one to boast, but I’m probably the cleverest person in this room. I was Visiting Professor at the University of Trowzerzhoff, perhaps you’ve heard of it?’

  ‘I don’t think so. What did you teach?’ asked Miss Marbles.

  ‘Teach?’ The professor looked blank for a moment. ‘Oh, yes, I taught many things. Mainly criminals . . . er, criminal science.’

  ‘Goodness! How interesting!’ said Miss Marbles. ‘And what is that exactly?’

  ‘It is, well . . . like science, only with criminals. For instance, we did an experiment to find out what happens if you keep them at temperatures below freezing.’

  ‘What does happen?’

  ‘They turn blue.’

  The head teacher nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’m afraid I’m no expert.’

  ‘Not many people are,’ said Von Hardbum with a sigh. ‘That’s why I want to teach children. You see, I’ve always dreamed of a place where little super-morons – I mean minors – could be taught the skills they’ll need for the future.’

  Miss Marbles’ eyes shone. ‘But that is exactly what we aim to do here at Mighty High!’

  ‘You don’t say!’

  ‘I do. Just think how we could change the world if we trained just fifty new superheroes.’

  ‘Imagine!’ said Von Hardbum, grinding his teeth.

  Miss Marbles leaned forward and clasped her hands. ‘You know, come to think of it, perhaps I am looking for another teacher,’ she said.

  ‘Look no further,’ said the professor.

  ‘I’m afraid the school is rather old,’ Miss Marbles apologised. ‘It may not be what you’re used to.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Von Hardbum. ‘Compared to this, my last place was like a prison.’

  They shook hands and Miss Marbles closed the door behind him. What a pleasant young man, she thought, and a professor of criminal science too. There was no doubt he would be able to teach the children all kinds of useful things.

  Mrs Sponge hummed to herself as she headed to the dining hall carrying a large saucepan of lumpy mash.

  ‘Psst!’

  She looked round. This was getting annoying. She could hardly walk four steps today without hearing voices.

  ‘Psst!’

  It came from the staff toilet, where the door was slightly open and a face peeped through the crack. Mrs Sponge went closer.

  ‘It’s me, Mother,’ hissed the Green Meanie. ‘Get in here!’

  ‘I’m not coming in there with you. It’s a toilet,’ said Mrs Sponge.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Hurry up, before someone comes along!’

  Mrs Sponge sighed and slipped inside the door, which the Green Meanie bolted on the inside. It wasn’t an ideal place for a secret meeting – it smelled of bleach and was as cramped as an elf’s shoebox. Mrs Sponge looked around for somewhere to put her saucepan and decided on the floor.

  ‘Is this going to take long? I’ve still got a rice pudding to make,’ she said. ‘Why are you wearing those silly glasses?’

  The Green Meanie took them off. ‘It’s my cunning disguise.’

  His mother snorted. ‘You think you’re going to fool anybody like that?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, your head teacher just gave me a job.’

  Mrs Sponge stared. ‘As a teacher?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘But you hate children. You told me they were disgusting maggots who should be boiled in oil.’

  ‘You’re forgetting, Mother – these maggots have superpowers,’ said the Green Meanie. ‘With the right sort of guidance, who knows what they could do?’

  ‘You mean one day they could be superheroes?’ asked Mrs Sponge.

  The Green Meanie raised his eyebrows. ‘Or supervillains,’ he said.

  Mrs Sponge sat down heavily on the only available seat, which was the toilet.

  ‘Why not? Think of it,’ said the Green Meanie. ‘With an army of super-brats, I could do anything. I could rid the world of fat-headed do-gooders like Captain Courageous. I would be unstoppable! MWUH HA! HA! HA!’

  His evil laugh was cut short by an unpleasant sensation. Looking down, he realised he had trodden in a saucepan of mashed potato. He removed his foot with a sucking sound.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done, you big clumsy!’ scolded his mother, scraping lumpy mash back into the pan. ‘In any case, aren’t you forgetting something?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Miss Marbles. She’s head teacher of this school.’

  ‘Not for much longer,’ said the Green Meanie. ‘I have other plans for Miss Marbles. Come with me!’

  They hurried through corridors, with the supervillain leaving a trail of mashed potato and his mother trying to keep up, slowed down by the heavy pan. Finally they stopped outside a room with a black door.

  The Green Meanie unlocked the door and went inside. The room was dark and shadowy and the shutters were drawn. Scientific apparatus bleeped and whirred while a faint humming sound filled the air. On the lab desk sat something covered by a dusty old sheet.

  ‘Are you ready?’ asked the Green Meanie.

  ‘Yes, but hurry up. I told you, I’ve got a rice pudding to make,’ grumbled his mother.

  ‘Then feast your eyes on this!’

  The Green Meanie whipped off the sheet
.

  Mrs Sponge peered at the strange device on the desk. ‘You’ve dragged me all the way down here just to show me a hairdryer?’ she said.

  ‘Of course it’s not a hairdryer,’ snapped the Green Meanie. ‘It’s something I’ve been working on in secret for years. I call it . . .

  THE GIGANTINATOR!’

  Mrs Sponge picked up the device to examine it more closely. ‘What does this switch do?’ she asked.

  ‘DON’T TOUCH THAT!’ cried her son, snatching it back. ‘Stand over there and I’ll show you. Now, let’s see – what shall we use as a specimen?’

  He looked around the lab and his eye fell on a tiny bluebottle which had landed on the mashed potato stuck to his foot. Taking a glass beaker he brought it down swiftly over the fly, trapping it inside. It buzzed against the glass, trying to escape.

  ‘Now, my beauty,’ leered the Green Meanie, ‘how would you like to take part in a little experiment?’

  He switched on the Gigantinator and took careful aim. Immediately the humming in the room grew louder. Mrs Sponge covered her ears and backed away as her power-crazed son turned the dial and the volume increased.

  Bolts of blue light fuzzled and crackled through the air as the beaker to shake . . .

  Stan was staring hard at a brown egg on a plate.

  ‘You’re not doing it right,’ said Minnie. ‘You’ve got to concentrate.’

  ‘How can I concentrate with you talking in my ear?’ complained Stan.

  He bent down until his eyes were level with the egg and scowled at it furiously. Miss Marbles had told them that anything could be controlled using mind power, so their first task was to move an egg without touching it. So far none of the class had got anywhere, although Tank had managed to make scrambled egg when he sat down.

  Stan groaned. ‘This is impossible!’

  ‘Actually it’s not,’ Miles informed him.

  ‘Lots of superheroes can do it. It’s called telekinesis.’

  ‘Well, you have a go, if you know so much,’ said Stan.

  Miles changed places with him. He took off his glasses and squatted down.

  ‘See! It wobbled!’ he cried excitedly.

  ‘Only because you jogged the table,’ said Minnie. ‘You’re not meant to lean on it.’

  Miles moved back a little and went back to staring.

  ‘Concentrate really hard,’ said Stan.

  ‘I’m trying. Stop humming, will you?’ said Miles.

  Stan frowned. ‘I’m not humming.’

  ‘Well, somebody is.’

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ said Minnie.

  They all listened. Stan could hear it now – a low hum, though actually it was more like a buzz. More worryingly still, his ears were starting to prickle. He glanced around the room.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ he said.

  ‘You’re telling me! Your ears have gone bright pink,’ said Minnie.

  ‘They do that. We need to get out of here,’ said Stan, looking towards the door.

  The buzzing had grown louder, so loud that other people had noticed it. They were looking around with puzzled expressions. Miss Marbles checked the light switch. The noise, however, seemed to be coming from outside the room.

  Something banged on the door, startling them all.

  ‘Yes? Come in!’ said Miss Marbles.

  The door jumped on its hinges.

  ‘I said, come in!’ the head teacher repeated. ‘Tank, go and open the door, will you?’

  ‘NO!’ warned Stan. ‘Miss, it might be dangerous!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Miss Marbles.

  The door sounded as if it was about to splinter in pieces. The buzzing was deafening now, filling the room. Tank had reached the door and turned the handle. He leapt back with a yell as something huge zoomed past his head and into the room.

  Chaos broke out as children screamed and fled, diving under the tables, smashing plates and eggs. Only Miss Marbles remained rooted to the spot, staring upwards.

  Stan found himself squashed under a desk with Miles and Minnie. They could hear the giant creature buzzing backwards and forwards like a low-flying plane.

  ‘What is that thing?’ panted Stan.

  ‘I didn’t get a close look,’ replied Miles, ‘but it’s probably a common housefly or bluebottle. Don’t worry – they’re usually harmless.’

  ‘They’re not usually that big!’ said Minnie.

  The noise had suddenly stopped. Stan poked his head above the table to see if the monster insect had buzzed off. It hadn’t. It had settled on Miss Marbles’ desk, where it seemed to be planning its next move. Stan could see its horrible hairy legs and red eyes as big as dinner plates. Across the room he spotted Miss Marbles flattened against the wall, trying to inch her way slowly to the door. He guessed she meant to escape and raise the alarm. But to reach the door she’d have to get past the giant fly.

  Stan ducked down, his heart racing.

  ‘We have to do something,’ he said. ‘Miss Marbles is trapped.’

  Miles stared at him. ‘Are you mad? What can we do?’

  ‘I thought you said it was only a bluebottle,’ Minnie reminded him.

  ‘A GIANT bluebottle,’ said Miles. ‘It probably eats spiders for breakfast.’

  Stan had an idea. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘What do flies eat?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re the brainbox – what do flies eat?’

  Miles tried hard to think. ‘All kinds of stuff,’ he said eventually. ‘Sugar, biscuits, anything.’

  ‘What about sticky stuff?’ said Stan.

  ‘I don’t know – probably.’ Miles nodded.

  Stan looked out again. Miss Marbles hadn’t got any closer to the door. Her way was blocked by a large heavy bookcase. There was no sign of the fly. Looking up, Stan saw it on the ceiling, crawling around like a bloated blue-black beetle. Any moment now it might swoop down and carry the head teacher off.

  They would have to move fast. He turned to Minnie. ‘Grab as many eggs as you can and aim for its head,’ he told her. ‘Miles, you come with me!’

  ‘Can’t I stay here?’

  ‘Come on!’

  They dashed out. At the same moment the monster fly took off from the ceiling.

  It swooped down like a bomber plane. Miss Marbles screamed. Minnie took aim.

  An egg splatted the fly on the side of the head.

  Stunned, the insect dropped to the floor. Gloopy yellow yolk dripped from its head and trickled into its eyes. It staggered a little, buzzing like an untuned radio. Then it rubbed its front legs together and started to feed.

  ‘NOW!’ cried Stan. He and Miles heaved with all their strength. The heavy bookcase swayed and toppled forwards.

  There was a short silence.

  ‘EWWW!’ cried Minnie, pulling a face.

  Slowly, the rest of the class crept out from their hiding places and stared at the sticky yellow puddle spreading across the floor. Two black hairy legs stuck out from under the bookcase. Miss Marbles sank into a chair, panting for breath, and wiped some egg off her face.

  ‘Thank you, Stan,’ she groaned. ‘I knew that bookcase would come in handy one day. Now perhaps someone would fetch Mr Bounds –’

  But Minnie interrupted. She was staring through the open door into the hallway. ‘Miss Marbles,’ she said, ‘you might want to look at this.’

  The class followed Miss Marbles into the corridors where they stood and stared, open-mouthed. A message was daubed in large green letters on the wall:

  By now several other teachers had arrived, alerted by the noise. They all crowded around the wall, gazing at its grim message.

  ‘This is terrible!’ cried Mr Bounds, the PE teacher. ‘Shocking!’

  ‘Yes, I’ve never seen such spelling!’ agreed Miss Stitch. ‘Did one of you write this?’

  The children all shook their heads. Miss Marbles was examining the writing.

  ‘What is this stuff?’ she asked, dabbing at it. She s
niffed her finger, then tasted it.

  ‘Peas,’ she said. ‘Mushy peas. There’s only one person who could have done this.’

  ‘A vegetarian?’ said Miss Stitch.

  ‘No, the Green Meanie. Look at this in today’s paper.’

  She produced the article that she’d saved from that morning.

  Miss Stitch read it out. ‘“Police today issued this picture of the Green Meanie – the power-mad super-criminal who escaped from Darkmoor Prison . . .” Good heavens! Do you think this was his work, Headmistress?’

  ‘Who else would write a death threat in mushy peas?’ said Miss Marbles.

  The newspaper cutting was passed around from hand to hand so that everyone could see the picture.

  ‘YUCK!’ said Stan. ‘He’s certainly ugly.’

  ‘Actually,’ said a voice, ‘I’m told that he’s rather handsome.’

  They all turned round to see a tall man wearing green glasses, who had just arrived. He had brought Mrs Sponge, the dinner lady.

  ‘Ah, this is Professor Von Hardbum,’ said Miss Marbles. ‘We’re very lucky that he’s going to be joining us at Mighty High.’

  Miles nudged Stan. ‘Von Hardbum?’ he sniggered.

  ‘He looks kind of creepy to me,’ said Minnie.

  Miss Marbles pointed to the message on the wall. ‘What do you make of this, Professor?’ she asked. ‘Have you had anything to do with the Green Meanie?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I know all about him,’ replied the professor.

  ‘So you should,’ muttered Mrs Sponge.

  The professor shot her an icy glare. ‘Haven’t you got work to do?’ he asked, pointedly. ‘In the kitchen?’