Totally Toxic (5 page)

“Oh.” That sounded… challenging. “So the fishing expedition is just a cover?”

Grandpa nodded, and I could feel the excitement rush through me. This was real secret agent-type stuff. We were establishing a
cover.
Cool.

I hurried up the stairs to change. After a quick search of my closet, I chose a pair of holey blue jeans and a faded old sweatshirt. Then I quickly wound my hair into two loose braids and slapped a frayed ball cap on my head. I sure didn't look like a superhero-in-training; I looked like a kid going fishing with her grandpa. Perfect!

“I'm ready!” I cried, clattering back down the stairs. “Fish, beware!

Mom had returned from the kitchen and was holding a picnic basket. “You'11 have to be a lot quieter than that if you expect to catch anything,” she advised.

“I'll be quiet,” I told her, to keep from blowing my cover. I took the picnic basket and kissed her good-bye. “In fact, I'll be
superquiet.”

Grandpa's secret spot had nothing to do with fishing. It was a place on the outskirts of town where the span of the Sweetbriar River was at its widest—nearly fifty feet across from one grassy bank to the other. We stood on the woodsy side; the other bank opened into a broad stretch of grassy meadow that was usually dappled with thousands of purple and pink wildflowers.

“Where are the flowers?” I wondered aloud, frowning across the field at the ugly gray factory in the distance.

“Huh?” Grandpa was busy surveying the width of the river. “What flowers?”

“The ones that used to grow wild in the meadow. Look.”

He gave a quick glance over his shoulder, then did a double take. “You're right,” he said, shading his eyes from the bright sunshine and scanning the expanse.

There was not a single petal in sight, just dry grass and brown stems with dead leaves and shriveled heads.

It was a depressing scene. I turned away. It seemed that Mom's hunch about the factory was a good one; even without proof, it wasn't much of a jump to imagine that something connected with the factory could be the cause of the dead flowers. I made a mental note to mention it at tomorrow's meeting.

“So why are we here?” I asked. “Is this where I learn to bring the entire river to a boil by shooting laser beams out of my eyes?”

Grandpa shook his head. “Not today.”

He opened the tackle box, and I could see that, other than a few faded bobbers and a tangle of old fishing line, there was nothing inside that had anything to do with catching fish.

Grandpa removed what looked to be a cross between a digital camera and a handheld calculator—only a zillion times more intricate, with flashing buttons and switches and something that looked like a miniature satellite dish attached to the corner. He pressed a button on the gadget and it whirred to life.

“What's that?” I asked.

“A measuring device.” Grandpa marched along the bank a little way until he found what he was looking for: a dead oak tree had fallen across the river, creating a bridge.

“You'll need to come back from the other side.”

“Come back?” I put my hands on my hips. “So I guess that means I'm going across the river.”

“Correct.”

I stared at the water, taking in the width from bank to bank. The current looked pretty strong, and I could tell just by looking that it was deep. And cold.

“And how, exactly, am I going to get to the other side in the first place?” I asked.

But I had a pretty good idea.

day's lesson was going to be all about, as Grandpa called it, “airborne transport via forward propulsion.” Also known as jumping.

“I can already jump,” I argued.

“I know you can,” he said. “You jumped across the stage at the school play.”

“So why do I have to practice?”

Grandpa put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye.”Zoe, you know as well as I do that you got lucky with that jump.”

I remembered the way I got my leg hooked in the scenery and almost blew the entire rescue. He was right. I got lucky.

“Airborne transport can be very useful to a superhero,” he explained. “It's not a power exactly, it's more of a skill. Your speed and strength enable you to jump high and far, but as for aim, accuracy, and control—those things must be learned.”

“Good girl. All right, then, toes on the bank.”

Obediently, I stepped toward the slope of the riverbank and settled the toes of my sneakers on the edge. This sent a tiny avalanche of dirt and pebbles rolling down toward the water. “How's this?”

“Excellent. Now, bend your knees. … A little deeper…. No, not that deep…. Yes, that's right.” Grandpa pointed across the water. “Now, I want you to focus on a spot in that meadow, oh, maybe three yards beyond the opposite bank, where the ground is flat and solid. If you land too near the slope, there's always the chance you may lose your footing and slide backward.”

I squinted into the brightness of the sun reflected on the water. “Focused.”

“From this position, using your heels, you're going to spring up and out. Got that? Up, but not straight up. When I was learning, I made the mistake of going completely vertical and smacked my head on the underside of a helicopter.”

“Ouch.”

“Indeed.”

“Up and out,” I repeated.

“Yes. The key words
are forward propulsion.”

“Wouldn't I go farther if I gave myself a running start?” I asked.

“Maybe. But consider this—you could inadvertently gather too much speed, which would increase the velocity of the jump, thus making it that much harder to control. And besides, rescue scenarios don't always allow for a running start.”

“Hadn't thought of that.”

“Yes, well, it was a logical question. Now… here we go.”

I concentrated on the spot across the river.

“Trust that your strength will carry you,” Grandpa whispered. “It's in you, Zoe. AU you have to do is leap. As soon as your body recognizes that gravity is against you, it will call upon the depth of its own power and take over the jump. Soon you'll be able to decide to use your strength, but for now, you only have to trust your superhero instincts and…
jump!”

I jumped. I kept my eyes forward and launched myself off the earth, springing upward, outward….

I felt the precise nanosecond that the power took over. What began as an ordinary gym-class-caliber track-and-field long jump became a sonic hurdle! It was as if my body just decided to ignore gravity. The jump stretched higher, farther, longer…. I was twenty-five feet up, then thirty, with the water rushing below me. I'd never felt anything like it—I was a little bit scared, a lot excited, and totally super! My blood pounded in my veins like a drum solo in a rock 'n' roll song!

“Focus!” Grandpa called from the bank.

But it was at that moment that I noticed the vat.

It was the bright orange lettering on the side that caught my eye. I shifted my gaze from my landing target to the factory. From the wooded side of the river, I had only been able to see the upper stories of the building. Now that I was airborne, the entire factory was in view, and I could see all the way down to ground level, where a huge vat stood beside the foundation wall.

Stenciled on the side of the vat was the word
HAZMAT.

“Focus!” Grandpa cried again.

But it was too late. I forgot all about the jumping exercise, and the minute I forgot, my body downshifted from Super mode.

“Uh-oh.”

You know those cartoons where the coyote accidentally runs off a cliff, and for a few seconds, his legs keep pumping and he just sort of hovers there in midair before he goes plummeting down … down … down …

Well, I was that coyote.

“Ahhhgggg!”

Grandpa ran across the fallen-tree bridge and met me as I climbed up the bank on the opposite side of the river. My excessive dripping had turned the dirt to mud, which made for a slippery climb.

“What happened?” he asked. “You were off to such a terrific start.”

“I know,” I said, collapsing in a wet heap in the grass. “But then I noticed something that broke my concentra—”

I gasped as a familiar smell sent my brain spiraling.

“Zoe, what is it?”

“I'm dizzy!”

“Must be from the fall.”

“No! It's the smell.”

Grandpa sniffed the air.

“Do you smell it?” I demanded.

“Yes! It smells like…” Grandpa gave me a puzzled look. “Like apple blossoms. No, like eucalyptus. Wait… it's more like … a breeze through a field of heather.”

“Mountain-fresh-country-ocean-autumn-sunrise…,” I sputtered. I closed my eyes tightly, but I could still feel the spinning
in my head. “It's the smell that's making me dizzy!”

With every breath I took, floral and citrus and herbal bombs seemed to be exploding all around me. Then it occurred to me that I wasn't just
smelling
springtime-sunshine-wildflower-blah-blah-blah, I was
tasting
it, too. I must have gotten a mouthful of river water.

“Yuck!” I knew it was impolite, but I couldn't help it: I had to spit. When I did, Grandpa looked shocked.

“Zoe, you're spitting bubbles!”

And I was. A sparkly trail of soap bubbles drifted from my lips and floated toward the sky.