The Return of Meteor Boy? Page 9

  Before the mass of water gained even a yard, my mom had frozen it into a solid block. The look of shock on Aquarius’s face told me she had met her match. As the Hammer ran up to smash it, Rainbow Rider unleashed her power on us, wrapping both Mom and I in rainbows and then lifting us into the air.

  “Prepare yourself for a drop, OB,” Mom warned me, turning her gaze on the multiple colored bands. As each one froze solid, she gave it a kick, smashing it into a million colorful pieces. When she struck the one holding me, I dropped onto our lawn in a crouch and then pounced on Rainbow Rider. Grabbing her by the ankles, I yanked them out from under her, and she came crashing down amid her shattered rainbows.

  I was just getting back on my feet when I heard my mother holler.

  “OB! Duck!” she said. I didn’t stop to ask why, and as the side of my face hit the turf I felt the woosh of the Hammer’s fist passing an inch from my cheek. I rolled away before it came crushing down on me again. But there was no need to worry. As I got to my feet a couple yards away, I saw that he was still holding his fist in the air—which I guess makes sense considering my mother had frozen him solid. I knew he would thaw quickly, though, so I decided to make the best of it and ran to help Uncle Fluster.

  “That ice chick, man, is just too intense,” I heard Bliss say as he strummed on his ukulele. “We need to mount a new defense.”

  “She’s no chick,” I hollered. “She’s my mom.”

  My temper got the best of me as I lunged at the laid-back, long-haired louse. It had cost me the element of surprise, though, and I was grabbed by a half dozen SkyDiamonds.

  “Easy there, little dude,” said one of them. “Violence isn’t the answer.”

  “Unless it’s to get something you want,” I pointed out as I struggled helplessly.

  “We call that the fight against oppression,” he clarified. “And you should know—”

  He suddenly froze solid in mid-sentence. In fact, so did all the SkyDiamonds. I struggled out of their now icy grasps just in time to see my mom coming toward me. But I also saw someone else behind her.

  “Mom! Duck!” I yelled.

  She followed my instructions instantly. As she dropped to the ground, the Hammer’s fist swung right over her head. Unfortunately for the six frozen SkyDiamonds, the Hammer smashed into them, shattering them into pieces.

  The original SkyDiamond, who was still standing by Bliss and Uncle Fluster, had a look on his face that I can only describe as freaked-out.

  “Oh, man, this trip’s turned bad,” he shouted, his eyes wide with shock. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Then, without warning, a cyclone appeared from nowhere right in the middle of our yard. It wasn’t hard to guess where it had come from.

  “Must I do everything?” Cyclotron said as the funnel cloud rose up to reveal him standing in our yard. “Can’t you take on even a single hero?”

  As my mom began to pick herself up from the ground, the rattled members of the Commune for Justice ran toward Cyclotron. Bliss stopped and looked down at the ten-foot-tall metal cone lying in our yard.

  “Hmm, we can’t forget our souvenir,” he said. “Hammer, baby, bring it here.”

  The Hammer lumbered over and easily picked up the heavy cone. A moment later, a tornado rose up around all the villains and carried them away. Mom tried to freeze the funnel cloud, but it was moving too fast.

  As my mother, Uncle Fluster, and I watched it recede down our street, who should step out on our front porch but my dad. He had Mom’s frilliest apron tied around his waist and was holding a chiffon layer cake in his hands. Standing behind him were the other three members of the New New Crusaders.

  “What was all that noise?” he asked cluelessly.

  “That was Mom single-handedly fighting off a gang of supervillains,” I said, practically bursting with pride.

  “Oh, no,” he said in despair, “we missed another opportunity to show our stuff!”

  “Well, at least the cakes are safe,” my mother commented dryly. Of course, a moment later, Dad’s chiffon cake erupted in flames as his frustration got the better of him. As I trudged up the stairs to my room, I barely paid attention as his teammates consoled him. I was too baffled as to why these villains had once again tried to rob my uncle.

  As I flopped onto my bed, I thought back on what had happened. What were the hippies after? Both times they had gotten nothing but those useless metal cones. Unless that was what they were after in the first place? But that didn’t make sense. They were just giant metal cones.

  Hmm. Cones. The second I said the word, it instinctively made me think about my science fair project. Tomorrow I would be meeting with Melonhead. I had to admit I had no idea how we were going to come up with a clever experiment for something as impossible as time travel. But somehow, the idea of cones was sticking in my brain.

  Without even thinking about it, I reached for the Collide-a-scope and absentmindedly brought it up to my eye. I had to admit, the Bee Lady had designed a very clever thing. Wondering whether I could make the meteors fly backward, I tried twisting the tube the opposite direction. To my complete surprise, the entire top half of the Collide-a-scope came loose in my hands.

  I was about to try to reattach the piece when I noticed the corner of a white piece of paper sticking out from it. I grabbed it and began pulling. It was more than just a scrap of paper. As more and more of it emerged, I realized it was an envelope.

  Finding a letter hidden inside a twenty-five-year-old toy was strange enough, but it couldn’t possibly compare to the shock I got when I saw what was written on the outside. In an elegant flowing script it said: Please deliver to the leader of the League of Goodness. Many thanks! It was signed: Meteor Boy.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Time and Again

  I barely slept that night. Instead, I obsessed about what appeared to be a letter from Meteor Boy himself. For twenty-five years this message had remained hidden inside the Bee Lady’s Collide-a-scope. I ran my hands over the envelope. I was dying to open it, but it wasn’t addressed to me. Despite everything, I wasn’t going to open somebody else’s mail, even if that someone else was—apparently—the Amazing Indestructo.

  By morning, I had shoved that unpleasant thought aside for the moment and turned to another pressing matter. Today I was supposed to meet with Melonhead to work on our project. I quickly got dressed, slipping the letter from Meteor Boy into my pocket. I also grabbed the chunk of rock. At some point I needed to determine whether it was actually prodigium or not.

  I had only been to Melonhead’s house once before, for his sixth birthday party. All the kids in the neighborhood had been forced to attend. He spent the party telling us how much smarter he was than any of us, belittling the presents we had brought him, and covering us all in seeds and melon juice. Oddly, by the end of the party he was convinced he had made dozens of new friends.

  At his door, I rang the bell. A moment later it opened and I found myself being stared at by Melonhead’s father, Argus, and most of his dozens of eyes. Of course, you shouldn’t get the wrong impression when I say eyes. I don’t mean normal eyes. After all, Argus’s head looked more like a potato. And the eyes looked like what you’d expect to find on a potato. I assumed he could see out of them since I couldn’t detect anything I would call normal eyes.

  “Hello, Ordinary Boy,” he said jovially enough for a guy with a potato head. “I hear you’re the lucky one who got paired with my boy. It’s a guaranteed A, you know, and I’m sure you haven’t seen many of those.”

  Well, it was clear where Melonhead had gotten his charming manners. Not that it made it easier knowing I was considered an idiot, solely because I had no superpower. It was hard to get too insulted, though, hearing it coming from an enormous spud.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. “Can you tell me where to find him?”

  “He’s in the cellar.” Argus chuckled softly as he let me in. “Be careful not to trip on any roots.”

  LI’L HERO’
S HANDBOOK

  PEOPLE

  NAME: Melonhead. POWER: The ability to fire a barrage of watermelon seeds from his mouth. LIMITATIONS: Watermelon seeds are rarely lethal. CAREER: Assumes Superopolis will recognize his brilliance any day now. CLASSIFICATION: A swelled head could just be the result of too much juice retention.

  I found Melonhead in a corner of the basement playing with a huge collection of Amazing Indestructo toys. He was wearing his Meteor Boy costume. Conveniently, its red color hid most of the juice stains. The seeds stuck here and there even looked a little like shooting meteors.

  “Nice costume, Melonhead,” I said.

  “Ithn’t it amathing? I have to go back thith afternoon and pick up a thpethial devithe they have for me.”

  I thought of the gadget the Bee Lady had said would be able to make me fly, and a tinge of regret stabbed at me.

  “Now don’t be thoar,” he spattered as he caught the look on my face. “I beat you fair and thquare.”

  “Of course you did,” I said, rolling my eyes—and putting the issue behind me. “And now are you going to show me the amazing time machine we’re going to win the science fair with?”

  “Abtholutely.” He stood up. “It’th going to knock your thockth off!”

  He led me over to the center of the basement and pointed to an object sitting all by itself on a worktable. I looked at it and then back to Melonhead to make certain he was serious. I could tell by the eager look on his face that he was. I looked back down at the object again and then once more at him. He was panting like a dog expecting a snack treat.

  “It’s a potato,” I finally said as calmly as possible.

  “It’th a potato time mathine,” he corrected. It did appear to have some wires running out of it.

  “It’s a potato,” I repeated a little more insistently.

  “It’th thenthathional, ithn’t it?” he asserted. “It wath my father’th thuggethtion.”

  Somehow, I didn’t doubt that.

  “I thought you were building a time machine?” I said accusingly.

  “It ith,” he insisted. “It keepth perfect time.”

  “That would make it a clock,” I pointed out, “not a time machine.”

  “I doubt the judgeth will be thuch thticklerth,” he pooh-poohed.

  “I doubt you’ll live long enough to find out,” I said, finally losing my temper and lunging for his throat. Of course, it’s impossible to get your hands around someone’s neck when it’s as thick as a watermelon, and we just ended up tumbling to the floor and rolling around. The door opened upstairs and a voice carried down into the basement.

  “You kids play quietly,” his father’s voice boomed jovially. “Remember, I’ve got eyes in the back of my head!”

  Then the door closed again blocking off his chuckling. My efforts to pummel Melonhead were fruitless (no pun intended), so I finally rolled off the spluttering moron.

  “You’re thertifiably inthane,” he spattered with an eruption of seeds. “You didn’t think I wath theriouthly going to conthtruct a time mathine, did you? It’th not even pothible.”

  “I thought you were a genius,” I said sarcastically.

  “Thome thingth are even beyond my abilitieth.” He brushed himself off as he got to his feet. “It’th impothible to travel through time!”

  “No, it’s not.” I shook my head. “We’re traveling through time right now.”

  “How tho?” he asked.

  “At this moment you’re right here,” I pointed to where he was standing. “And now, five seconds later, you’re still here.”

  “Tho what? I never moved.”

  “You didn’t move in space, but you did move in time,” I pointed out.

  “I didn’t move an inth,” he sputtered in protest.

  “You’re crathy!”

  “Oh, you moved, all right,” I insisted, “but unlike moving left or right or forward or backward, you have no control on moving through time. It carries you ahead whether you want it to or not.”

  “Tho how can you pothibly change it?” he spat.

  “I’m not sure, but let’s think about it,” I said as I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. “Let’s draw a line that represents space.

  “And another that represents time.

  “The point where the space line and the time line meet represents now. Moving upward on the time line represents moving forward through time. Of course, the area below the space line represents the past.”

  “But ther’th no way to aktheth it,” Melonhead smugly pointed out.

  “You may be right,” I admitted as I pondered the matter, “but first let’s think about how movement forward in time works. What happens when you drop a rock into a pool?”

  “It thinks,” Melonhead answered.

  “Rocks can’t think,” I pointed out just to irritate him.

  “Thinks! Not thinks!” he sputtered with a frustration I was enjoying way too much. “It thinks to the bottom of the pool.”

  “Oh, sinks!” I said as if I had just realized what he was trying to say. “Well, you’re right. But that’s not what I meant. What happens to the surface of the water?”

  “Rippleth thtart thpreading out from where it hit the water.”

  “Right,” I agreed. “Now let’s mark it on our time line. One second up the time line from where the rock hits the ripple is here.

  “The second after that, it’s now here.

  “And by the third second, the ripple has reached this point.

  “So what looks like a widening circle in regular space actually looks like something else when spread over space-time.”

  “It lookth jutht like a cone,” Melonhead pointed out.

  He had picked up on the idea I had gotten last night after thinking about the cones stolen from my uncle.

  “Exactly,” I responded. “Now, instead of just movement on water, think of those ripples as the light around us moving forward through time. Of course, since it’s light, it will be moving at the speed of light. But it forms a cone, too.”

  “How tho?” asked Melonhead with a baffled look on his round face.

  “Well, nothing can move faster than the speed of light,” I responded, “so all possible futures must occur within the area of a light cone. Basically, your entire future can be represented by the shape of a cone.”

  Melonhead stared at me blankly. “It lookth thort of like an upthide-down dunth cap,” he finally responded.

  It was too easy, so I just let it pass.

  “But what about the patht?” he continued.

  “That would also look like a cone,” I said. “Like this.”

  “But there’th thtill no way to aktheth it,” he replied smugly.

  “That may be true,” I acknowledged, “but we’re going to have to get a lot closer than your spud clock if we’re going to have any chance of impressing the judges at the science fair.”

  “What’th wrong with my clock?” he demanded.

  “How long did it take you to build?”

  Melonhead paused. “About twenty-thikth min-uteth,” he finally admitted.

  “Exactly!” I pointed out. “So I think we’re going to need to put a little more time into the project—no pun intended.”

  “What’th the pun?” he asked cluelessly.

  “Never mind.” I had reached my limit with Melonhead. I couldn’t handle spending any more time with him today.

  “Listen, seed brain,” I said as I prepared to leave, “you’ve made every attempt to take over this project, so I’m going to let you. But you’d better come up with something better than a potato clock, because I expect us to win first place at the science fair. So plan on having your blueprints for the ultimate time machine ready for class tomorrow.”

  “I can’t invent the ultimate time mathine by tomorrow,” he spluttered helplessly, seeds flying all akimbo.

  I froze for a moment as the realization hit me.

  Ultimate, I thought. Could it be? Ignoring Melonhe
ad, I turned to run up the stairs.

  “But what about our project?” I heard him hollering behind me.

  “Leaving so soon?” Melonhead’s dad appeared as I came up from the root cellar. “Are you able to find your own way home?”

  I spun around to glare at him, but couldn’t figure out which of his dozens of eyes to focus on. In exasperation I just nodded and slipped out the door as quickly as I could. Once outside, I took out my copy of the Li’l Hero’s Handbook. Flipping through the pages, I came to the entry on the League of Ultimate Goodness. I had read the entry dozens of times before, and, as I thought, it discussed only the league as I knew it today, complete with all its useless members. It said nothing about the team’s original founders—the members who’d made up the team twenty-five years ago.

  Tentatively, I turned back a page and found an entry I had never noticed before. It said simply: the League of Goodness. And there they were, the original five founding members: the Bee Lady; Zephyr; the Animator; MagnoBox; and the leader of the group, Lord Pincushion.

  I pulled the letter from my pocket, and sure enough, it said “Please deliver to the leader of the League of Goodness.” There was no ultimate. The Amazing Indestructo was not the intended recipient of this letter. I quickly looked up Lord Pincushion and found his address—number one, Needlepoint Hill.

  It took me about an hour to reach the hill and its thousand stairs. The thought of climbing them was a bit upsetting, but I knew it would never stop a true hero. So I sucked it up and started my ascent. As I climbed, I thought through what I knew of the original league. I had already met one of the five founding members, the Bee Lady. I was also aware that Zephyr had died quite a few years back. The remaining three members had retired. They occasionally reappeared as characters in the AI comic books, but as far as I knew, no one ever saw them in person anymore.