CHAPTER ONE
THERE AND BACK AGAIN: A WEIRDO’S TALE
So, here we are again. At last. For the first time.
Confused? Yep. Me, too. Let’s work on this together, shall we? Last time we talked I had this whole … thing going on. Well, news flash: I still do. Some people (my best friend, Charlie) insist on calling this thing “superpowers,” but to me, the honorable Veronica McGowan, superpowers are for the truly super among us: guys with capes and ladies with lassos. Not twelve-year-old me.
Also important: Those Super People have control of when and how their powers pop up. Their powers are something they intentionally use for good. And, believe me, intentionally is the underlined word here.
No, I definitely would not use the word super to describe what comes outta me. “Stupid” seems to fit the bill. At least in my mind. Stupidpowers.
Know it.
Live it.
Love it?
I’m gonna take a hard pass on that last one.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve come full circle on my powers. I’ve learned to more or less accept that they’re a part of me. An embarrassing, endlessly annoying part of me. I still hide them and I still think I’d be better off without them, to be honest, but who wouldn’t wish to be stupidpower-free if whenever you were surprised, your head could literally pop off? I think I’m being fair with myself.
“Excuse me?”
Abruptly removed from my inner monologue, I looked up to see the weary, unsmiling face of my dad’s 3:45 p.m. dental appointment.
“Off in your own little world, there?” the woman in front of me asked.
I nodded and opened the schedule on the computer. “Sorry about that. Ms. Milner, right?”
“I am. And you shouldn’t be sorry. It’s a beautiful day. Who wants to spend it at the dentist? Not me.”
“Maybe we should both make a break for it,” I joked.
I couldn’t have agreed with Ms. Milner more. Summer was here, school was still four whole beautiful weeks away, and I was paying off my debt to society (meaning, in this case, my dad, Rik) by working at his dental practice three days a week. Despite my printing out many documents on child labor laws and sticking them to the fridge, Dad hadn’t budged on his punishment for when I snuck a few underage kids into the nightclub he also works at. But I had learned my lesson. Did we really need to keep this shame show going? Case in point: Actual conversation I recently had when I bumped into Kate from school at the grocery store:
“Hi, Kate! How’s your summer going?”
“Pretty good. I’ve been taking waterskiing lessons at the lake, you know, and reading some books. Pretty boring. You?”
“Uh, well, I’ve learned how to organize forms for the insurance biller and can now replace those long overhead light bulbs.”
Ms. Milner forced a polite cough, bringing me back to reality.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” I said. “Sorry. Have a seat.” As a joke, I tapped my fingertips together menacingly and added, in my spookiest voice, “The doctor will see you shortly. Bwa-ha-ha!”
Ms. Milner pulled an uneasy smile.
Humor. It’s not for everyone.
I heard dad’s deep voice bellow down the hall as he brought his previous patient, Mr. Rutledge, back out to the waiting room.
“Who doesn’t love a good caramel?” Dad asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Mr. Rutledge replied.
“Next time, more adhesive, or just gum it,” Dad advised.
Mr. Rutledge winked at Dad as he put his baseball cap over his silver hair. “Will do, Doc!”
Dad shook his hand. “My best to Maggie, okay?”
“Of course, of course.” Mr. Rutledge gave me a wide smile. “You two behave!” His dentures looked much better—and certainly less caramel encrusted—than when he’d come in.
“I’ll try to keep him in line,” I joked back.
“Have a lovely weekend!” Mr. Rutledge waved on his way out the door.
“Veri, Ms. Milner’s file plea—” Dad stopped, staring at the state of the reception desk. He gave me “the look.” You know the look. The “Really? We have to talk about this again?” look.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and then fumbled through the stacks of files I was supposed to put back yesterday and the day before. After a valiant recovery mission, I unearthed Ms. Milner’s file from under my current sketching project, which also happened to be spread across the desk. The overturned pencil case, about thirty half-full water glasses, and open comic books probably didn’t help the overall look of things, either.
“I’m really bad at this,” I said, handing over the file.
“Yep.” He tried not to smile.
“Encouragement might help, Father dearest.” I playfully smacked his arm and we laughed.
“Lost cause, kiddo. Clean it up, then you can go home. And don’t burn the place down,” he instructed as he led Ms. Milner down the hall.
I wasn’t entirely sure if he was kidding. Probably? I wasn’t angry, so the likelihood of me breathing fire was pretty slim. Now that Dad knew about my powers, and I knew that he also had powers, things had been a lot easier between us. I hated keeping such a giant secret from him. Obviously, I’ll always have some tiny secrets, but hopefully not any more huge, gym-wrecking ones like I used to have. Hmm. Let me sum up. It had been a pretty intense school year: My stupidpowers started happening, basically ruining my life. My friend Charlie had done his best to help out, but there wasn’t much he could do. I’d been sure my long-lost mother had given the powers to me, and I’d kept the whole thing secret from Dad. Finally, so many people knew about my weird abilities, and so many terrible, embarrassing things had really gotten to me, that I kind of turned into a human tornado of disaster. But somehow it all worked out—and nearly everyone’s memory of what happened was wiped. Of course, the school gym did get destroyed, but as long as no one knew it was my fault … I mean, they can build another gym. I only have the one life, though. And I found out that my dad had powers, too! So did my great grandma Beatrice!
The biggest bummer was that his powers were so different from mine, he isn’t that much of a help. His ability to heal fast and help other people heal fast was far more super than anything that ever came out of me. Over the years his powers have gotten weaker and don’t seem to cause him any grief whatsoever. It’s great to have someone who understands just how weird it all is, but in terms of management or curing this mess, we are both clueless.
I was halfway through the tower of manila files when Charlie rushed in. His red hair was plastered back from sweat. He must have run the whole way to the office! His gigantic smile told me he was really excited about something.
“Veri! Veri!” Charlie wheezed, leaning over to catch his breath. He reached toward one of the water glasses on my desk. “Water,” he gasped dramatically.
“Don’t drink that!” I warned him. “I don’t know how long it’s been there. Or if it’s even water.” I filled a fresh paper cup from the water cooler and handed it to him. “What is it?”
He chugged the whole thing before exclaiming, “Film Camp!” He crushed the paper cup triumphantly, then fished a sweat-dampened leaflet out of his back pocket and offered it to me.
I gingerly took it, using only the nails of my index finger and thumb.
“Sorry ’bout that,” he said. “It’s really hot out there.”
“It’s okay. I mean, it’s just sweat. Butt sweat. Your butt sweat.”
He snatched the pamphlet back. “Why don’t I just hold it?”
“Good idea!”
Charlie opened the once-glossy advertisement for a new local day camp for eight- to thirteen-year-olds who are interested in film and television production.
“This. Looks. Amazing!” I gushed, seeing all the pictures of other kids behind real cameras and clapping those little chalkboard things while yelling Action! I’ve always wanted to yell Action!
Charlie was just as excited. “You could learn more about storyboarding and production design! And I could become a world-famous actor!”
“Holy moly!” I could feel my excitement going into the danger zone, but it was too late—my powers switched on, and miniature fireworks burst around us.
Charlie and I had always loved movies, but since school let out we’d become obsessed. Partly because I was still struggling with my powers and wanted to keep a low profile, but also because it had been so freaking hot and there aren’t many places two twelve-year-olds can just hang out. We’d had one ill-fated trip to the public pool when someone did not respect the funny sign that read THIS IS OUR OOL. NOTICE THERE IS NO P IN IT. WE’D LIKE TO KEEP IT THAT WAY. There wasn’t enough chlorine in the world to get Charlie and me back in that pool.
Air-conditioning had become the only salvation. The old theater downtown had classic movies on the weekend. And during the week, on my days off, we took the bus into Jamestown, the next city over, where they have a proper modern movie theater to see new movies. It didn’t matter what was playing. We’d see it all! And every single cent of our allowance went to it. In fact, this weekend we were planning on going to a horror film fest at the old movie theater.
“Whoa! Camp starts on Monday?” I asked, skimming the important info.
“That’s the mad thing,” Charlie explained. “It’s my brother Nick—he’s running it for part of his college credit!”
“Oh, no way!”
I’d always liked Nick. He was consistently nice to me and mostly nice to Charlie, but I guess not being 100 percent there is common among brothers. Anyway, I was sad when he left for college last year.
“We gotta do this,” I said, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I remembered where I was and who I was beholden to. “Oh, crud.”
Charlie helped me file the rest of my mess and get the reception area back in order. Then we waited. I was grateful that Charlie was staying to give me moral support. Plus, my dad really liked him. You could tell by how much he teased Charlie. I was hoping that might help grease the wheels of the camp train.
“Hey, chief!” Dad greeted Charlie as he waved goodbye to Ms. Milner. She had a little drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. She must’ve still been numb.
“How goes it, Rik?” Charlie asked.
“Fan-freaking-Friday-tastic, my friend,” he answered, then he frowned. “What are you guys still doing here?” he asked, a bit more suspiciously than I would have liked.
“I have something to ask you,” I said, nodding to Charlie to hand over the camp pamphlet.
Charlie furrowed his brow and looked at me. “But you said it had bu—”
“It’s fine!” I cut him off. “It’s fine.”
Charlie shrugged and handed it to Dad, who read it over, looking up at us occasionally.
I swallowed hard. “I know that I am supposed to be working here all summer, but this is only for two weeks. And I think it will be a really good learning experience, so it won’t just be like I’m off having fun. I’ll have to learn things. And be good. And you’ll know where I am all the time.” I was rambling now, but I couldn’t stop. “And Charlie’s brother is running it—he’s been at film school for a whole year! So, you can even ask him about it. And he can tell you how well behaved I’m being.”
“Yeah,” Charlie added, “he definitely won’t let us have very much fun.”
Dad handed back the sweaty pamphlet and then spun the ring on his right hand around and around. This was a sure sign he was thinking about it. I could hear my heart beating in my chest. It was getting louder and faster the more nervous and excited I got. Both Dad and Charlie looked at me. Then Charlie plugged his ears.
“Oh, can you guys hear that, too?” I asked, but immediately had to repeat myself much louder. My powers were making my heartbeat unbelievably loud. “Sorry, I’m just a little excited.” Charlie patted me on the back and I took a few deep breaths. Finally, the volume on my ticker went down enough so we could talk.
“Well,” Dad said, “to afford it, we’d have to be pretty thrifty the rest of the summer. You understand that?”
“Yes!” Charlie and I said in unison.
“That means BYO Creamsicles, Charlie.”
“I’m cool with that!” Charlie, the master destroyer of Creamsicles, replied.
“And no movies beyond the classic theater. It’s too expensive at that megaplex dump.”
“Understood,” I said as seriously as I could. “We’ll be making the movies we want to see.”
“Okay.” Dad nodded, a smile curling his lips. “Have fun.”
Charlie and I looked at each other, mouths wide open for a solid ten seconds before the happy shouts followed. We went to hug, but then fell short. That was a new thing of weirdness. So instead I turned and gave Dad the biggest hug I could.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” I yelled, giving him an extra squeeze on each word.
“Watch the eardrums!” he said, and laughed. “And honestly, I wanted to fire you anyway. You really are the absolute worst at this.”
“Yeah. Can’t blame you there,” I agreed as I stopped smooshing him. “But who will you get to take my place?”
“I have an idea,” he said as we locked up, “but I’m pretty sure you’re gonna hate it.”
Text copyright © 2019 by Heather Nuhfer
Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Simini Blocker.
