The OK Team (13 page)

‘Ugh, that's not gross,' Liarbird gasps.

‘Is there any chance you can show us what you can do, if anything?' I say, gritting my teeth.

‘Sure, fuzzy,' says Flying Saucer and crouches. ‘OK, say that big human-shaped pile of cardboard boxes is a bad guy, right?'

‘Which would be why we made it human shaped and placed it in front of you . . .' says Yesterday.

‘Yeah, whatever,' he says. ‘Watch this.'

He flexes his fingers near his hips like a gunslinger, and then suddenly grabs two bottles off his belt and splurts green liquid from one and red liquid from the other onto the cardboard villain. ‘Take that! And that!'

We all stare blankly, arms folded.

‘He splurts sauce,' whispers the Torch.

‘Flying Sauce!' says the kid. ‘In this case, green tomato sauce and Mexican chilli sauce.'

I sneak a glance in Liarbird's direction. She starts to smile and I do too. Our eyes lock, enjoying the moment, but it's interrupted by Yesterday saying, ‘Well, stringbean suit. If we're ever having a barbeque, you'll be the first one we call . . . after Soft Drink Dispenser Man.'

‘Who?' says Flying Saucer.

‘He was in earlier. Sorry, mate, you're not what we're after.'

‘Fine, have it your way. I'll form my own stupid team!'

‘You might want to look up the Ketchup Kid,' says the Torch quietly.

Flying Saucer doesn't hear him, stomping out.

‘Torch!' Cannonball says. ‘Was that a joke? Thrown in the actual direction of a stranger? You're getting brave!'

The Torch blushes. ‘I'm not really big enough to say this, but go eat your cape, demolition ball.'

‘Listen, you walking cigarette lighter . . .'

‘And you losers wouldn't let me join your team,' says Super Dead Kid, suddenly appearing and shaking his pale head. ‘Yet look at who you're prepared to audition.'

‘Yikes! I hate it when you just apparate in the middle of us,' yelps Yesterday.

‘Shouldn't you know I'm about to arrive?' says the ghost, leering at her.

‘That's not the point, Super Dead Kid,' Yesterday fumes.

‘Knock at the door if you want to come in.'

‘What's the fun of being the walking dead if I have to knock on doors?'

‘All the other ghosts do,' says Liarbird. ‘We had three here yesterday and they all knocked.'

‘Oh, please!' says Super Dead Kid, but he disappears.

There is a knock on the scout hall door.

‘Get lost, Super Dead Kid!' yells Cannonball.

There's another knock, a little louder.

‘I said, go shove your stupid ghostly head!'

The third knock shakes the door.

Cannonball strides over and flings the door open. ‘For the last time, you annoying little phantom – oops.'

It's not Super Dead Kid standing at the door. It is a Hero – a real Hero.

More than two metres tall, the man is a rippling ball of muscle, wearing a brilliant black and white uniform, with a truly heroic, fashionably-shaped cape blowing behind him as though he has his own wind machine. He's wearing a striped mask with thin bands of green, yellow, blue, red, purple and orange and black.

‘Wow!' Yesterday exclaims. ‘I mean, I knew he was about to arrive.'

‘Who are you?' I ask as he steps into the scout hall, Heroically filling the space.

In a voice like distant thunder, like powerful waves crashing on rocks, the Hero says, ‘I am Switchy.'

We all stare until Cannonball snorts. ‘Switchy?'

‘That's 300 per cent right,' the Hero says, turning to tower majestically over Cannonball. ‘Switchy. You got a problem with that?'

‘Um, no . . . sir.'

The Torch shuffles forward with an appraising eye, moving close to the Hero, almost sniffing at him, like a dog. ‘I might be wrong, because what do I know? But I think you're a changeling,' he says.

‘That's 220 per cent right,' says the towering Hero.

‘I switch.'

‘Torch?'

The Torch turns to face me, smiling from under his hair. ‘He can be anything! His power is that he can change how he looks, who he is. Very cool! There are different names for people like him . . . You might have heard of shape-shifters.'

‘Wow,' says Yesterday. ‘I always thought they were just mythical.'

Liarbird grins. ‘I'm not impressed. Let's throw him out now.'

‘Huh?' says Switchy, looking hurt.

‘Don't worry, you'll get to know her,' I say. I turn to the others, eyes shining. ‘I say he's in, gang. What do you think?'

Everyone agrees, nodding furiously, except for Liarbird's shake of the head.

‘Congratulations, Switchy, you're just what we need,' I say. ‘Welcome to the OK Team.'

‘Awesome. That is 400 per cent for sure the best news I have ever heard in my entire life. Thanks a lot,' says Switchy.

‘Feel free to ignore me if this is too much trouble, but could you please show us a change?' the Torch asks.

‘Um, OK,' says Switchy. He frowns mightily and holds his breath until his handsome face turns red.

‘Is he doing a poo?' asks Yesterday quietly.

‘Shhh,' says her brother, shoving her.

Switchy's face turns red and his massive body trembles, but then there is a pop and standing in front of us is a tall, very skinny kid about fourteen years old. He has bright red hair, freckles and is still wearing the striped mask over his eyes.

‘What's this shape supposed to be?' says Cannonball.

‘Um, I think it's me,' admits Switchy, no longer with the deep, impressive voice.

I blink. ‘This is you? Then what was before?'

‘A shape.'

‘Go back to that shape.'

‘I'll try.' Switchy holds his breath again, goes through the whole painful build-up, and there is another pop.

In front of us is a washing machine with a striped mask around its control buttons.

‘Did you mean to do that?' asks the Torch.

‘Don't change back,' Liarbird says.

The washing machine appears to tremble and changes from white to a slight shade of pink, then there is a pop and a stripey-masked cow stands in front of us.

‘Switchy?'

‘Moooooooo.'

It holds its breath, shakes and pops back into the gangly kid version of Switchy, looking a little embarrassed.

There is a silence.

‘So, you have no control over what you change into,' I finally suggest.

Switchy looks at the floor and self-consciously scratches his right arm with his left hand. ‘Sometimes I get it right.'

‘How often is “sometimes”?' Cannonball wants to know.

‘Once in a while. Maybe every tenth time. Or twentieth.'

‘And you only
think
this particular shape is actually you?'

‘It's sort of complicated,' he says.

‘Oh, great,' Liarbird groans.

‘I told you he'd be crap,' Yesterday says.

The Torch whispers to me and I nod. ‘You're right, Torch, he's no worse than the rest of us and he
might
turn into something handy when we need it. You still want in, Switchy?'

Switchy's face shines under his multi-coloured mask.

‘That is 1423 per cent correct! I definitely, absolutely and completely want in!'

From the
Hero Times:

From the
Daily Cape:

From the International
Cape-Tribune:

From the
Golden Cape: