Brain Freeze! Page 2

“Hey, Sport!” Grandpa Gus cried out.

  “Hey, Gramps,” I replied.

  “Heard you had a little trouble at school today. You all right?” Grandpa Gus asked. I thought I detected a little smile on his face when he asked that. Weird. I decided to just blurt it out quickly all at once, like ripping off a Band-Aid! (Although, truth is, I still had my mom remove my frequent Band-Aids.)

  Whew. Deep breath. Here goes . . .

  “Grandpa Gus, today I bit into a fudgesicle, got lightning speed, did a backflip off a tree, and had a squirrel tell me it was cool!” I blurted out in less than two seconds. After I said it out loud for the first time, it didn’t sound so strange.

  Grandpa Gus remained silent, just staring at me as if I had two noses or something. (I checked my face real quick to see if I had grown another nose. Who knew what else could happen at this point?)

  Grandpa rubbed his chin and said, “I see. I see. Well, I only have one thing to say to that, young man.”

  I waited for him to tell me to go lie down, that I was probably still confused from my smackdown with the dirt, but instead, Grandpa Gus stood up, smiled, and screamed,

  “YES! YES!”

  Then he started dancing around in a circle, jumping up and down, knees and hips popping and snapping. This set Captain barking. I didn’t know what to think of Grandpa’s joy about me being a freak.

  “EVELYN! GET IN HERE!” Grandpa cried out.

  Mom came running in.

  “WHAT?!” she yelled in a panic, spilling something from a mixing bowl all over the floor.

  “Irwin’s got it!” said Grandpa Gus. “He’s got it! I told you it just skipped a generation!”

  “Great,” mumbled Mom.

  “What I have I got?” I asked.

  The two of them proceeded to discuss whether or not I had a certain “something.” They talked like I wasn’t standing right there.

  “EXCUSE ME!!! Third person in the room here.”

  Grandpa looked at Mom. Mom sighed.

  “Go ahead. Tell him,” she said.

  Gramps pulled me up on his lap, which we both realized quickly was WAY too awkward. I stood by the recliner instead. He said he had a deep, dark secret to let me in on.

  “Oh, Grandpa, we all know it’s Captain that does the farting. It’s no secret.” I assured him. Captain shot me an evil grin.

  Grandpa shook his head and patted my hand. “Irwin,” he said, “you are part of a very special family . . . a family with very special powers . . .”

  I waited for the punch line.

  And waited . . .

  and wondered how long I’d be waiting . . .

  Neither Gramps nor Mom was smiling or laughing. Didn’t seem like there was a joke coming. They just looked at me.

  “Have you heard of Mighty Super Gus, Sport?” Gramps asked.

  “Sure,” I replied. “He fights crime all over Mock City. He’s our hometown hero. Mighty Super Gus rules.”

  Grandpa slowly unbuttoned his flannel shirt. There was something shiny underneath . . . a spandex uniform . . . with the famous MSG logo on it!

  “NO WAY!” I gasped.

  “Way,” answered Mom.

  I stood there with my little mouth wide open; for a second, I felt like I might faint again. My whole world was completely changed. Then a thought hit me.

  “So, is Dad a crime-fighting superhero, too?” I asked.

  “Irwin, do you know about genes and what they contain?” Gramps asked.

  “Mine usually contain dirt, and sometimes that white linty stuff,” I said.

  “Not the jeans you wear, the genes that make up your body. It’s what’s inside of YOU. And our family genes have SUPERHERO in them.”

  “So, is Dad a superhero or not?” Man, I was getting confused.

  “No. At least not that we know about,” Gramps replied. “Your dad got the accounting gene. It’s not as exciting, but it pays the bills. The superhero gene must have skipped him and went on to you.”

  Mom just stood there looking worried the whole time, and then she walked away. And then something struck me . . . Mighty Super Gus had a crime-fighting sidekick . . . Captain Corgi. Whoa! All this time that barking little pointy-eared tooter was a superhero. Captain farted. But this time it sounded more heroic to me.

  “Congratulations, Irwin, you’re going to be the next crime-fighting SUPERHERO in the family!” Grandpa beamed.

  I hope this doesn’t mean I have to eat extra vegetables or anything.

  Chapter 5

  Cookies and Cats

  Grandpa was incredibly excited about all this. “Let’s get you training right away!” he said.

  Mom heard that from the other room. She was next to us immediately.

  “Gus, he’s been through enough for one day. Irwin, I want you to go lie down for a little bit.”

  That didn’t seem right, so I questioned her.

  “Are you allowed to make superheroes take a nap?”

  The look she gave me said “yes.”

  Mom left, and I started toward my room. Grandpa grabbed my arm, pulled me close, and whispered, “Meet me out back in ten minutes.” He winked at me, and I knew what his plan was. Sneak out the window in my room.

  I went upstairs and tossed my backpack carefully into a pile of clothes. I was trying to decide if I should change into shorts when I heard the thump against the house. It was Grandpa Gus with the ladder. We’d done this before a couple of times. I crawl out my window, and then Grandpa and I would go do something. It’s always fun, risky, kind of scary, and totally wrong. I usually feel guilty while I’m doing it. Kids, don’t try this at home. That’s my first bit of superhero advice.

  I could see the top of the ladder and Grandpa’s smiling, eager face over the edge of the roof. He was holding up a fudgesicle.

  “Yes!” I said.

  I had one leg out the window when Mom knocked on the door. AAuugghh! Busted. I jumped to my bed and pretended to be resting.

  “Irwin, you’ve got company.” Mom came in the room with Trey and Elisha right behind her.

  “HOMEWORK!” said Elisha, way too excitedly.

  “Why is your window open?” asked Mom.

  “Um, I, um, thought some fresh air might do me some good.”

  Quick thinking. Just like a superhero.

  “Plus, this room smells like the sewer pond by the edge of town,” added Elisha. “It needs airing out.”

  As Trey settled into a video game on my computer, Elisha stood near my bed and explained the homework. She stood a little too close. There was a rumor at school that Elisha had a crush on me. AAUUGGHH! A crush is when a girl likes a boy, and wants to “crush” his ability to play with his friends. At least that’s MY understanding of it.

  It was a light load of homework for Ms. Frost: six pages of math, five pages of sentence diagramming, and a three-fourths-scale model of the Sphinx to be built out of empty milk cartons.

  “Um, okay, I guess you guys better get going,” I said. I was anxious to get to the ice cream.

  “Not yet, dude. I’m getting my best score ever here,” said Trey.

  Meanwhile, Elisha was telling a story about something that happened in P.E., I wasn’t really paying attention, and she could tell.

  “Irwin! Are you listening to me?”

  “Yeah. Totally. Great story.”

  “So you think it’s cool that Mikey Wolfer shoved an entire tennis ball in his nostril?” she asked.

  I thought about it a second.

  “Actually, yes.”

  Trey finally lost the game, and they got up to leave. He punched me in the arm on the way out. “That’s for fainting, you wuss.”

  I deserved that.

  I started back out the window when there was another knock. Oh, c’mon! It was my sweet Grandma Joy
ce. She had a plate of her homemade cookies. NOOOOOO! I had the only grandma on earth who couldn’t cook. Her baked goods were the worst. She sat down next to me.

  “Brought you some treats, Irwin.”

  “Gee, thanks, Grandma.”

  “I heard about what happened and want you to know everything will be just fine.”

  She hugged me tight. One of the curlers in her hair poked me in the eye, but she made me feel good. That’s what grandmas do.

  “Now, you eat up all these cookies.”

  “I, uh, should probably save them for dessert,” I said, thinking quickly.

  “Nonsense. After a day like today, you deserve them now. Promise me you’ll clean your plate.”

  “I promise.”

  Grandma Joyce left, and I went back to the window. Grandpa stuck his head back up.

  “What’s going on? When did you get so popular?” he asked.

  “You need to help me eat these cookies before we can train,” I said.

  Grandpa Gus got a look of panic in his eyes. He’d been eating those cookies for, like, forty years. He crawled up on the roof and in my window. He grabbed a cookie and gave me a tip.

  “Plug your nose, chew fast, and try and think of some other place you’d rather be.”

  We started in on them.

  “Awww. This one tastes like shoelaces.”

  “Ewww. This one tastes like asparagus.”

  That went on for a couple minutes, but we finished the plate, as promised.

  “Okay! It’s showtime!” Gramps grinned.

  We carefully crawled out the window and onto the small ledge of roof.

  “Wait,” I said. “Who’s holding the ladder?”

  “Captain is. Why?”

  “How can a corgi hold a ladder? His legs are like half an inch long.”

  Grandpa went down first and then held the ladder for me. He pulled the fudgesicle from his shirt pocket.

  “Now, let’s see what this baby can do!” He grinned.

  Just then we heard Mom singing over on the side of the house! If she was singing, it meant she was watering her flowers. She’s coming this way!

  “Head for the bushes!” whispered Grandpa.

  We ran across the yard and dove into them. Even Captain did! I think that little dog was actually having fun. He seemed to know we were in danger. Then he farted. Our perfect hiding place now smelled like skunk bottom.

  Mom was whistling and singing and watering her flowers.

  “We’re safe here,” whispered Grandpa. Then something brushed against my leg. I looked down and tried my hardest not to scream. Right there in the bushes with us was the meanest, most nasty creature on the planet.

  Mr. Fluffers, our neighbors’ cat.

  This thing was the size of a Volkswagen, and pure evil. It hissed and bared its yellow, pointy teeth at us. Captain Corgi couldn’t take it. I don’t blame him. He bolted from the bushes, yelping in a very high dog voice. If Mom weren’t twenty feet away I’d have done the same thing.

  “Grandpa, I’m scared,” I whispered.

  “Me, too, Irwin. Me, too,” he said. Mr. Fluffers kept staring at us with those green eyes, and then turned his back to us.

  “Maybe he’s leaving,” I said hopefully.

  “Nope,” said Grandpa. “He’s peeing.”

  “AAAUUUGGGHHH!” We both screamed as we ran from the bushes. We nearly smacked into Mom, who turned the hose on us out of fright.

  Then she just looked at us with that disappointed look that always makes me feel terrible.

  “Your father will be home in a minute for dinner. Go wash up.”

  We walked away in shame. Then Mom added, “And you’re both grounded.”

  Wow, mom power is way stronger than superhero power.

  Chapter 6

  Training Day

  I woke up Saturday morning feeling pretty darned good. Hey, maybe this superhero stuff could be pretty cool. I mean, who knows what powers I might have? Maybe I can fly? That would be awesome, cruising along through the air, high-fiving Superman. Anyhow, first things first, and that means a game of baseball with the guys in the park. I grabbed my favorite stinky ball cap and headed downstairs. Grandpa Gus was waiting in the kitchen with a cooler full of frozen treats. Shoot. Baseball would have to wait.

  “TRAINING DAY!” Gramps shouted.

  Dad read the newspaper. He didn’t look happy. He gave me a hug and told me this was all my decision. Mom agreed. Wow! That never happened. Nothing was ever MY decision. Chalk one up in the superhero-plus column.

  They said if I just wanted to play with my friends and be a fourth grader that it was perfectly fine with them. Grandpa winked at me and whispered, “Boooorrrring.”

  “Dad, what’s the rush to start his training?” my father asked Grandpa Gus. “My goodness, we just found out about this yesterday!”

  “There’s talk amongst the superheroes about possible trouble,” Gramps replied. “Something to do with the recent rash of robberies around town.”

  I sat at the table not knowing what to do. I know most people would think “What kid wouldn’t want to be a superhero?” It seems like a no-brainer. (Did I use that term correctly?)

  But Grandpa was already talking about fighting crime. I hadn’t even had my training yet. That was a little scary. Was superhero really the right career choice for me? These days I was leaning more toward zombie-baseball-playing surfer. Seemed a lot more realistic than superhero.

  Mom set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and jelly toast down in front of me.

  “NONSENSE!” yelled Grandpa. “That’s not going to do us any good.”

  He grabbed the plate and set it on the table for Captain. The old dog farted and wagged his little stub of a tail. Then he inhaled the food. Grandpa set another plate in front of me with a fudgesicle and a drumstick on it, and not the chicken drumstick, the awesome ice cream kind.

  “YES! Ice cream for breakfast! Just how nature intended it to be!” I squealed. Chalk up another one in the superhero-plus column.

  Mom grabbed the plate right back and started making me another round of eggs. I sure hoped she was going to rinse off the corgi slobber first. She shot Grandpa Gus one of her looks, and he didn’t argue. He slumped down in a chair and checked his phone for messages. He seemed concerned about what he was reading.

  I was really just planning on meeting the guys for baseball in the park today. I’d recently mastered bike riding with no hands, and was sure I was ready to try it while juggling a mitt, hat, bat, water bottle, and baseball.

  Grandpa returned to his training day plans. He started smiling again. I hadn’t seen him this happy since he found out he could watch Star Trek online. This whole superhero thing did explain a couple things about Grandpa, like how he was sore a lot and why he looked so old. Probably came from years of battling crime. This was something I’d need to think about. I mean, right now I don’t really care about how I look, but I understand it’s ALL you think about when you become a teenager.

  I figured I could skip ONE Saturday of baseball. But I’m not gonna lie . . . I was getting worried about all of this stuff. Fighting criminals, missing ball games with my friends, and getting gray hair as a fourth grader.

  Dad had a talk with Grandpa about how this training session was just “testing the waters.” Whatever that means. Old people say a lot of things that make no sense—and most of them start like this: “When I was your age . . .”

  Grandpa assured Dad we would take things slow and that there was no rush to hone my craft. That made no sense and sounded painful. What was my craft anyway? Probably something that grows on you when you get older, like ear hair. Well, nobody was honing it without getting a good fight from me.

  Before we left, Mom and Dad had a talk with me about how I was special, even without the superhero stuff. They
also told me school came first, and that I needed to remember to just be a kid. Apparently they didn’t realize as a fourth grader, I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was a dude.

  Grandpa and I left for training.

  Chapter 7

  Ducks Are Jerks

  We drove to Off-Central Park, a massive place near the center of Mock City. It had everything: ponds, ballparks, a zoo, a place where bands played, and the best food vendor carts in the world. We went to the far end of the park, where it was usually pretty quiet, except for teenagers sometimes making out.

  Gross.

  As part of training, Grandpa had me carry the cooler of ice cream. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t training, just Grandpa Gus getting out of work. We found the perfect spot. Well, actually it was the spot where I told Gramps, “I can’t carry this stupid thing any farther!”

  We decided to try and see if different ice creams would give me different powers. Grandpa reached in the cooler and grabbed an ice cream sandwich.

  “Let’s give this one a try.”

  “Those aren’t really my favorites,” I said.

  “It’s 9:00 in the morning, and I’m giving you ice cream.”

  He made a good point.

  Grandpa told me, “Repeat exactly what happened on the playground . . . except for the booger contest.” He grinned. “Just a little joke to break the tension.”

  I unwrapped the ice cream sandwich. I think there was a part of me that was kind of hoping nothing would happen. I could still catch the guys for baseball, and put all this stuff behind me. But, more importantly, I could just be a dude . . . not a superhero. Seemed like a lot of pressure would come with the hero thing.

  I cautiously nibbled on the corner of the frozen treat.

  Nothing.

  “C’mon! No pain, no gain!” Grandpa smacked me on the back of the head.

  I chomped down hard on a huge bite . . . and there it was . . . the freeze.