M Is for Mama's Boy Read online

  “What do you want with me?”

  “Relax, there’s no need for hysterics. If I wanted to harm you, my associate would have already taken care of that,” the boy said. “Look, we’re getting off on the wrong foot, and I’m such a big fan of yours.”

  “A fan of mine? Why?”

  “Well, maybe the word fan is not appropriate. You are a mess, really, but your brain—that amazing brain of yours. . . It takes someone of great intellect to stop me, and you managed to do it with a computer you built in your mother’s basement.”

  “I have a way with computers,” Albert said modestly.

  “I know, and it’s a talent that could prove very useful to me. I’d like to hire you, Albert. I want you to build something for me with that amazing brain of yours, and I can pay you very well. My friend informed you of what I’m offering—correct?”

  “He said you could give me superpowers,” Albert said, eyeing the big man for traces of a lie.

  “That is true. I have access to a machine that can take your weaknesses and turn them into strengths. With the great number of weaknesses you possess, you could be turned into an incredibly powerful individual. You could become a real superhero, Albert. Though, I hope you will give some thought to a career in supervillainy. It can be quite rewarding.”

  A television monitor mounted on a tree came to life with a fuzzy image. “I’d like to show you something,” Simon continued as the image came into focus. Albert wasn’t exactly sure what he was seeing. It looked like thousands of electronic bees scurrying about in a strange, light-filled hive. He studied them, then realized what he was seeing: not living creatures, but tiny robots. The longer he looked, the wider his mouth opened.

  “Are those—”

  “Nanobytes,” Simon said.

  Albert stammered, “Scientists have been developing those for over a decade, but what you have here is way beyond the current science. How? Where?”

  “All will be revealed in time. And, anyway, wouldn’t you prefer to know what they do?”

  Albert smiled. He liked mysteries, especially ones involving computers.

  The image zoomed out until the little robots were smaller and smaller and smaller. When the camera stopped, all Albert could see was a set of huge buckteeth.

  “Those things are in your mouth?” Albert cried.

  Simon laughed. “Yes, they have been implanted into my two front teeth. They create a hallucinogenic phenomenon that makes people susceptible to hypnotic suggestions.”

  “So it’s mind control! You control people’s minds with your teeth!”

  Simon nodded. “The ability has been further supercharged by a hallucinogenic toothpaste. Combined with my incredible charm and good looks—”

  Albert interrupted him. “If you can control people, what do you need me for? All you have to do is flash those big teeth and people will do whatever you say. Everything you could ever want is at your fingertips.”

  “Not everything, my new friend. The nanobytes cannot give me revenge. You see, there’s a certain boy in this town with technology similar to mine and I’d like to destroy him.”

  “Why not send this guy?” Albert said, pointing to the goon.

  “What fun would that be? I’d rather make him doubt himself and the things he holds dear. You see, my friend, it is not fists or superpowers that destroy a man, it’s self-doubt. Albert, you are going to help me destroy this boy, and when he is destroyed you will get your superpowers.”

  “Has this kid committed a crime? Is he a bad person?”

  Simon shook his head. “Actually, he’s really very nice.”

  “But if I help you destroy him, that would make me a villain.”

  Simon nodded.

  Albert searched his brain for other superheroes who had started out as villains before they turned to a life of fighting crime. “I don’t know about this. How do you want me to help you?”

  “My nanobytes allow me to control the mind of any living thing that looks at my teeth. I want you to build a device that will allow me to do the same thing to computers. Once I have people and technology under my control, I will have the tools to destroy my enemies and rule the world.” Simon laughed hysterically and his squirrels joined him.

  “Wait, I thought you just wanted to destroy this one kid,” Albert said. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to take over the world.”

  Simon’s eyes shone in the spotlight. “Albert, I’m an evil genius. It’s always about taking over the world. Oh, don’t frown. I think it’s a small price to pay for superpowers, don’t you?”

  Like a lot of gym teachers, Coach Babcock loved to torture his students. He felt he had failed as a teacher if his students didn’t cry out for mercy. He often bragged that he held the school district’s record for causing the most hysterical breakdowns in one afternoon. He used such classic forms of torture as weight training, wrestling, long-distance running, rope climbing, wind sprints, chin-ups, and the occasional game of wet dodgeball (the wet ball was superloud when it hit a kid, and it left a huge red welt). But his favorite device of torment was so horrible, so truly evil, that it would drive most children to the brink of madness. It was the square dance.

  For six weeks of the school year, his students suffered through the Star Promenade, the Slip the Clutch, and the Ferris Wheel. As Babcock saw it, square dancing was the most embarrassing and uncomfortable form of dancing ever created, and a perfect way to prepare his students for the crushing heartbreak of life. Square dancing was a metaphor for life—you got swung around and just when you thought you were free, you got dragged back into the dance. He really thought he was doing the kids a favor.

  But he couldn’t teach them if the tornado alarm kept going off in the middle of a do-si-do, like it was now. Babcock looked out the window at the crystal-blue sky and sighed. Arlington had more tornado warnings than any place he had ever lived, and all of them were false alarms. He considered ignoring the siren and forcing his class to continue to Flip the Diamond, but if a tornado came after all and one of the kids got blown away, well, he’d be in for another disciplinary hearing. Discouraged, he ordered the children out through the double doors to the basement, where they would be safe. He left the gym empty, except for the sounds of fiddles and banjos coming from the old record player.

  When everyone was gone, a slender hand removed the needle from the dusty record and the music stopped. Ms. Lisa Holiday locked the double doors that led out of the gym, then did the same to the emergency door. When she was satisfied there were no prying eyes, she rushed across the recently waxed gym floor, her high heels tapping out every step. When she got to the thick rope that hung down from the rafters, she grasped it in both hands and gave it three quick tugs. At once an unseen machine began to rumble beneath her feet. A blue light on the gym wall started to flash and the ceiling above slowly and silently retracted, revealing the bright blue sky above.

  “All clear,” she said, and a wall of the gym spun around and a team of scientists in white coats rushed into the room, followed by a team of mechanics wearing bright orange jumpsuits and hoods. Then part of the floor opened and slowly an enormous space jet rose up from below. It was painted yellow just like a school bus and had two huge wings and a needle nose. The mechanics busied themselves attaching huge fuel tubes to it while the scientists opened control panels and tinkered with its engine.

  Finally, Agent Brand hobbled into the room with the help of his cane. Behind him were Duncan, Ruby, Matilda, Jackson, and Flinch.

  Duncan smiled. He loved the School Bus—the name they had given the ship. He had seen plenty of spy movies with dashing heroes, but none of them had a space jet! He rushed to it and was soon climbing up the side like a spider. He startled a scientist standing on a lift checking the wind calculators in the ship’s nose. The man tumbled backward. Luckily, Matilda was already zipping about using her superinhalers and managed to snatch him in free fall. She dropped him into Flinch’s strong arms.

  “Sorry,” Duncan ca
lled out sheepishly.

  The scientist was not amused. He shouted at the boy angrily and stormed off to file an official complaint.

  Jackson’s braces sprang out of his mouth and lifted him up to where Duncan was perched.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jackson said. “I’ve got a folder as thick as a phone book full of complaints. What can they do to us?”

  “They can deduct fines from your pay,” Ruby said from below.

  “Hey! They pay us?” Jackson cried.

  “Children, the lunch lady has been summoned and we’ll be lifting off momentarily,” Ms. Holiday said from below. “I need to prepare you for the mission. Come back down.”

  Duncan scurried down the side of the space jet and Jackson lowered himself to the floor, where they were joined by their teammates.

  “Where are we going?” Ruby said.

  “Edinburgh, Scotland,” Agent Brand said. “Our friend Simon has resumed his criminal mischief. We’ve gotten word that he’s trying to rob the Royal Bank of Scotland, but naturally, you five are going to stop him.”

  “Yes we are,” Ruby said with confidence.

  “And then I’m going to bodyslam him,” Matilda said.

  “Let’s get this bird in the air,” the lunch lady said as he ran through the open tunnel into the gym. “I’ve got a whole room of hungry kindergartners and you have no idea how vicious they can get when they have to wait on pizza day.” He raced up the space jet’s platform and leaped into the cockpit. A second later there was a rumbling roar and the engines ignited with blue flame.

  Ms. Holiday and Mr. Brand led the children onto the ship and helped strap them into their seats. Within moments the space jet was blasting toward the stratosphere, leaving the gymnasium behind. Soon it was just a tiny spec outside the window.

  “What do you think of our new School Bus?” Ms. Holiday asked Duncan.

  Duncan smiled. The old rocket had been lost when the team was trying to stop Dr. Jigsaw from destroying the world. The new ship was ten times as fast. Unlike a plane, the School Bus didn’t fly across the horizon as it went from point A to point B. Instead, it soared right up into space, waited for the planet to spin, then rocketed back down to the desired location. The method allowed them to travel anywhere on the planet in no time. It was how they managed to go on missions during school hours.

  “It’s an incredible machine and very efficient,” Duncan said to Ms. Holiday. “The numbers I’ve read on fuel consumption are truly breathtaking. This machine gets gas mileage as good as a compact car.”

  “I like the snacks!” Flinch said as he opened four packages of caramels stored beneath his seat.

  Duncan shrugged. He couldn’t expect his teammate to get as excited about technology as he did. Most of the team had little interest in understanding the tools they had at their disposal as long as the tools worked. Ruby knew her way around computers, but her fancy pocket notebook with its state-of-the-art processor was just a laptop computer to her. Duncan, however, saw machines, no matter how small or simple, as miracles. He marveled at the imagination required to design them. So much love and passion had gone into them—sparked by a flash of genius. Machines were truly dreams come to life.

  His teammates would have been surprised to discover that Duncan hadn’t always had a love of learning and technology. In fact, just a few years before, he had been a below-average student, in a below-average school, in a below-average neighborhood. As a third grader at Elmhurst Elementary, a school notorious for its discipline problems and filled with exhausted teachers, he drifted down hallways like a ghost. He was shy and had few friends. And because his parents had taught him to respect teachers, the few friends he did have thought he was weird. He was in serious jeopardy of falling through the cracks—until the day he became a school celebrity. It all happened by accident during one of Ms. Corron’s art classes. That day, as Duncan worked furiously on a dried corn and peas paste portrait of his mother, he spotted Renee Seal sniffing a glob of dried craft glue she had found on her desk. Her neighbor, a notorious prankster named Kevin Houser, told her to eat it. When she refused, he resorted to the best means of coercion a third grader has at his disposal: He dared her.

  The class held its collective breath, knowing the full nature of a dare. If Renee refused, she would be shamed by her peers— possibly even shunned. But a second sniff of the glob told Renee it was better to be friendless than eat paste. She declined. Kevin was triumphant and searched the class for another victim.

  “What about you, Duncan? Are you brave enough to eat the glue?”

  Duncan shook his head. He was busy trying to get a pea just right so that his mom didn’t look like a Cyclops.

  “I double dare you,” Kevin said, causing every kid in the class to drop their project. A double dare was high stakes. For some, the tension of the moment would cause nightmares and bed-wetting.

  Duncan eyed the glue, then scanned the classroom. Even Ms. Corron was sitting on the edge of her seat biting her fingernails. He had never gotten so much attention in his life. Every eye was on him. If he chickened out, he would be subjected to even more ridicule than usual. He had to do it. He had to be brave. He shrugged, snatched the glob off the desk, popped it into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed to a symphony of “Ewwwww!”

  “I can’t believe you did it,” Kevin said, looking stunned. “I bet you won’t do it again.”

  “What’s in it for me?” Duncan said.

  “Five bucks,” Kevin replied.

  Duncan reached over and snatched the bottle off the table. He unscrewed the cap and poured it into his mouth. Then he licked his chops. “Pay up!”

  Another giant “Ewwwwwwww!” rose up in the room. Ms. Corron nearly fainted.

  Kevin reached into his pocket and handed Duncan a crumpled five-dollar bill. He didn’t look angry at losing his money or even humiliated; in fact, he looked like he had just won the lottery. From that moment on, Kevin stuck to Duncan, well . . . like glue. He paraded the chubby boy through the school, boasting about his strange taste in food, turning Duncan into his own personal sideshow and offering to repeat the art class incident for anyone who was willing to pay to see it. Much to Duncan’s surprise, lots of people were willing. He and Kevin did six shows a day, in empty broom closets, bathrooms, and the boiler room. There were even Saturday and Sunday matinees on the playground.

  “Come see the amazing Gluestick—the boy who eats paste!”

  Kevin took an unusually high cut of the money, 75 percent, but Duncan didn’t mind. He was a star, getting more attention than he ever dreamed possible. Plus, he actually liked eating paste. It was soft, like custard, but with a woody flavor. Kevin said it would ruin the show if the kids suspected that eating paste was a pleasant thing to do. He didn’t want a copycat act muscling in on their spotlight. So Duncan pretended to loathe it.

  Soon, however, Duncan and Kevin’s carnival act came to the attention of the principal, who brought it to the attention of Avery and Aiah. Duncan’s parents listened to details of the whole tawdry scheme while staring at their son as if he had six heads. The next day, his parents started looking for a home in a new school district far away from Elmhurst Elementary and Kevin Houser.

  Nathan Hale Elementary was one of the best public schools in the state, and it was nestled in a tree-lined community that offered the family a fresh start. The mortgage was crippling, but if Duncan’s parents saved and scrimped and cut coupons, the family would survive. The struggle would be worth it to get their kid back on the right track. Unfortunately, what Avery and Aiah didn’t know was that Kevin Houser had a cousin at Nathan Hale by the name of Brett Bealer. Kevin had told Brett all about Duncan’s taste for sticky adhesives, but unlike his more business-minded relative, Brett used the information to taunt Duncan, not profit from him. Before the boy could make a single friend, he was awarded a series of mean nicknames: Paste Boy, Sticky, Elmerface, Crazyglue. The list went on and on. It looked as if someone had flipped the Off switch on Duncan
’s bright new start.

  That was until a young boy with the biggest set of buckteeth he had ever seen approached Duncan in the cafeteria.

  “Are you the kid who eats the paste?”

  Duncan nodded, his face bright red with embarrassment.

  “My name is Heathcliff Hodges. I represent a group of people who would like to meet you. We believe you have the makings of a hero.”

  Now, Heathcliff’s face haunted Duncan’s memory. The boy with the big teeth had recruited him onto the team and helped train him. Duncan had been more surprised and saddened than anyone when Heathcliff betrayed them. He didn’t like the idea of having to face his former friend again.

  “How do we know Heathcliff is robbing this bank?” Jackson asked now.

  “Police reports are claiming that dozens of squirrels are scampering around inside. There was also a trail of walnut shells on the sidewalk,” Agent Brand replied.

  “BEAEEAGGGCH,” Flinch cried, then turned the knob on his harness. The caramels had sent him into an overexcited fit. “Sounds like our nutcase. Don’t worry, we’ll handle him. And this time we’ll make sure we catch him.”

  “Ms. Holiday, a little information about our destination, please,” Brand said.

  Ms. Holiday stood up, straightened her skirt, then waved her hand over a sensor. Behind her a map of Scotland appeared on a bank of monitors.

  “Scotland is part of the United Kingdom. It consists of over 790 islands and has an ancient culture dating back to the Neolithic period.”

  “Um, the what period?” Jackson asked.

  “The stone ages,” Ruby snarled. “Don’t you ever do your homework?”

  “My strategy is to coast on my looks,” Jackson said, then stuck his tongue out at her.