Authors: John David Anderson

Sidekicked (35 page)

“Good-bye, Jenna,” I say, standing and pushing my chair under the table, looking at her for what might be the last time. And I know I should tell her the thing I've wanted to tell her, the whole reason I even came here.

So I do.

I tell her.

“I forgive you,” I say.

And then I turn to leave.

“Drew.”

I turn back around. “What?”

“Be good,” she tells me.

That night I agree to go bowling with the crew. It will be the first time Eric, Mike, Nikki, Gavin, and I have been together outside of school. Gavin is still a conceited jerk sometimes, and he still acts different when he's around his football buddies, but I have to admit that deep down beneath that hard outer shell of his, he's kind of cool. Besides, he didn't get the girl either, so I guess we have something else in common.

We're walking into the bowling alley, taking bets on whether or not Mike will short-circuit the electronic scoreboard, when I see a figure standing back in the shadows, just visible around the corner. I can smell him too, even now. That same smell that seeps through the cracks of the doors of all the bars he's spent the last few years in. They're inside him, all of those years, and I don't know if he will ever be rid of it, but at least he's fighting.

“Hey, you guys, go on ahead. I'll catch up.”

Gavin peers around the corner and nods, then follows the others inside.

He's wearing the outfit. His outfit. Black boots. Torn jeans. Leather jacket. He hasn't shaved, though he has sculpted the mass of hair on his chin into a manageable beard of sorts. He is still wearing sunglasses, though the sun is almost beyond the horizon by now. I wonder if this means something, this outfit, or if he just doesn't have anything else to wear. I picture a closet full of torn jeans and leather jackets.

“Some excitement last week,” he says. This is the first time we've had a chance to talk since the incident, just the two of us. Mr. Masters told me to give him some time, that he had a lot to take care of, but that he would come around eventually. I've heard that before too.

“It turned out all right,” I say.

“How's your friend? You know, the cute blonde who set me up, knocked you out, and then ended up saving both of us?”

“She's Jenna,” I say. “You didn't have to turn her in, you know. You lied about the Fox. You could have lied about her.”

“I could have.” The Titan sniffs. “Except Kyla Kaden paid for what she did. Jenna hasn't yet. Besides, the Fox was popular. If the OCs were to find out what really happened .Â .Â . People need heroes, Drew. Speaking of which,” he continues, “I came to tell you that I'm not going to be around much longer.”

I resist the urge to ask him how that would be different from before, though I do give him a look that says pretty much the same thing.

“Right. No. I get it. But this isn't like that. I'm retiring. Officially, this time. Red and I are heading west. Conquer the mountains. Do some fishing. I already spoke with Mr. Masters, and he's in the process of getting you reassigned. We both know whoever he finds will be a heap better than I ever was.”

“I don't know,” I say. “We did all right there at the end.”

“You mean the part where I just dangled there next to you, or the part where I fell on top of you and trapped you underneath me?”

“I mean the part in the middle,” I say. “When I was falling. And you caught me.”

The Titan smiles. It may be the first time I've ever seen the man do that, even in all the photos and news footage, on the posters and trading cards and magazine covers.

“That's the other reason I'm here,” he says sheepishly. “I thought I'd see if you wanted to, you know .Â .Â . go out with me, just one time.”

I look at the Titan, all six feet five of him, hands stuffed in his pockets, nervously shuffling his feet. “The streets are kind of quiet, but we can probably find some robbers to rough up, rescue some old ladies. Maybe try to dig up some drug dealers or something. I figure I owe you that much, for all the other times. So what do you say?”

The Titan offers his hand, the same one that nearly crushed mine the first time we met.

And I try to imagine myself out there, bounding from rooftop to rooftop, running down alleyways chasing hardened criminals, dodging bullets and leaping over trash bins, standing back-to-back with the Titan, barely up to his chin, confronting wave after wave of sword-swinging assassins or laser-blasting androids, trading quips and catchphrases as we kick and punch our way through the onslaught of evil. That's what the Sensationalist does.

I make a big production of digging in my pockets, coming up empty-handed, and snapping my fingers.

“Didn't bring my mask,” I say.

The Titan smiles and nods. He understands. “All right, then. Good-bye, Drew.”

“Good-bye, George.”

And I watch as my hero walks back across the parking lot of Bob's Bowlarama before vanishing across the street. I'm fairly certain I will never see him again. I doubt anybody will. As he would be the first to tell you, there are plenty of others out there better able to do the job. Who knows, I might even be paired up with one of them someday. But for now, I really don't care. Because it's Tuesday, and I'm hungry, and Bob's has the best greasy breadsticks, absolutely dripping with butter, and my friends are all waiting for me inside.

And I'm feeling normal for a change.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to all the super people who helped bring
Sidekicked
to the shelf. Thanks to my agent, Quinlan Lee, who works tirelessly on my behalf so I can laze around at home and make believe. Thanks to Debbie Kovacs and Kellie Celia at Walden Pond Press and RenÃ©e Cafiero and Amy Ryan at HarperCollins for their tireless efforts and extraordinary publishing, editing, and design powers. Also thanks to Shannon Tindle, who captured Drew's geeky courage on the cover. A big huzzah goes out to my editor, Jordan Brown, who bought me candy, helped build the world beneath Drew's feet, and taught me that “supervillains are people too.” Finally, thanks to my own sidekick, my wife Alithea, who
also
works tirelessly so I can laze around at home and make believe. You're all my heroes.

About the Author

JOHN DAVID ANDERSON
is the author of one other novel for young readers,
Standard Hero Behavior
. He lives with his wife, two kids, and whiny cat in Indianapolis. He hates sloppy joes, isn't too fond of neckties, and has no notable superpowers to speak of. Yet.

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
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Credits

Copyright

Walden Pond Press is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
Walden Pond Press and the skipping stone logo are trademarks and registered trademarks of Walden Media, LLC.

S
IDEKICKED
.
Copyright Â© 2013 by John David Anderson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Anderson, John David, 1975â

Sidekicked / John David Anderson. â First edition.

pages
cm

Summary: Thirteen-year-old superhero sidekick-in-training Drew “The Sensationalist” Bean must overcome his not-so-superpowers and become the hero everyone needs when a supervillain, The Dealer, returns to Justicia.

ISBN 978-0-06-213314-4 (hardback)

EPub Edition April 2013 ISBN 9780062133168

[1. SuperheroesâFiction. 2. Adventure and adventurersâFiction. 3. IdentityâFiction. 4. Self-confidenceâFiction. 5. AbilityâFiction. 6. Middle schoolsâFiction. 7. SchoolsâFiction. 8. Humorous stories.] I. Title.