Totally Toxic (7 page)

“Zoe, I realize your mother's meeting is about to begin, but—”

I didn't hear the rest of Grandpa's sentence because now Josh was smiling at me.

“So, Grandpa, I'll see you in about an hour?”

“Zoe!” Grandpa's voice was so loud that I had to hold the handset away from my ear. “You must come to the store at once. This can't wait.”

“Okay, okay!” I crept farther into the kitchen, pressed the phone to my lips, and spoke in a whisper. “What's so important?”

“A message,” said Grandpa, more quietly. “From the Superhero Federation, Department of Punishable Offenses.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

“Zoe?”

“I'm on my way,” I managed to croak.

I hung up the phone, went back into the living room, and approached Josh.

“You're not going to believe this,” I said, forcing a chuckle, “but I've got to leave.”

“Leave?” He frowned.

“Yeah, but I'll be right back,” I said, trying to smile.
I hope I will, anyway
, I thought as I dashed off a note to my mom; the words “Punishable Offenses” were ringing in my ears.

I hurried out the door, hoping for the best…

… but prepared for the absolute worst.

little bell on the front door of the cleaner's jangled when I stepped inside. Grandpa nodded to me but didn't smile. I decided to try my luck with Gran.

“How's it goin', Gran?”

“Hello, Zoe dear.” Her eyes looked worried. That made me feel worse—Gran knew all about my superhero training, even though she wasn't a Super herself.

“Sally,” said Grandpa,”will you watch the counter, please?” He didn't wait for an answer; instead, he crooked his finger at me, then stepped through the curtain that led to the rear of the shop.

I took a deep breath and followed him.

Grandpa's office was a small, boxy room tucked in the back of the dry-cleaning store. There was a desk under the window,
where he kept track of his paperwork. On the desk in a brass frame was my fifth-grade school photograph. As Grandpa took his seat behind the desk, I motioned to the picture.

“Worst haircut I ever had,” I said, laughing a little. “And look at that sweater! What was I thinking?”

Grandpa said nothing. So much for conversation.

I watched as he opened the top drawer of the desk and removed a plain business envelope addressed to me, care of Speedy Cleaners. It was postmarked and everything, and looked totally official. That sort of threw me; I was expecting a more high-tech form of communication. The only thing out of the ordinary about this envelope was that it had no return address on it.

“It's a letter,” I said somewhat stupidly.

“I told you it was a letter.”

“You said it was a message.”

“A letter is a message.”

“Yeah, but I thought it would be something more … ya know… technological.”

He handed me the letter. I just held it for a long moment, stalling, I guess.

“So the Superhero Federation uses the U.S. Postal Service.”

“Why not?” Grandpa's tone was even. “It's perfectly reliable.”

I opened the envelope and removed a sheet of average-looking cream-colored stationery with the Superhero Federation logo emblazoned at the top.

Before I could read further, the page in my hand started to tremble. The letters began to shift, moving outward toward the margins, sliding across the surface like a water bug on a pond, leaving the center of the page blank, but only for a split second. I shook my head to clear it, but it wasn't just my eyes going goo-gly with shock. The letters really had scooted to the edge of the page. They were replaced by a graphic that sprouted right up out of the paper, a three-dimensional image like one of those popup illustrations in kids' books. But this was no ordinary cardboard foldout. The image was animated, made of light and shadow, like a teeny tiny movie playing in the palm of my hand.

I stared down at the letter, amazed to recognize a miniature version of my school auditorium flickering on the page. It was actual footage taken the day of the final rehearsal for the school play.

I looked at Grandpa, astounded; a smile played around the corners of his mouth, but he kept his voice stern. “High-tech enough for ya?”

The pop-up scene was showing Howie onstage with Emily, and I was there in the wings. Then I was jumping across the page and crashing into the set, just like I remembered it. At that point, the pop-up movie stopped flickering and flattened itself back into the page. The words skidded from the margins back to their proper places, which I figured meant that I should read on.

So I read on:

I had just gotten to the signature at the bottom when the paper began to glow. It went from cream-colored to electric yellow to bright purple. Then the paper shriveled up and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Okay, so as far as stationery goes, I had to admit, the Superhero Federation had some unbelievably cool letterhead. But that didn't
change the fact that the correspondence had contained the worst possible news I could have gotten.

I was on probation.

Last Chance Saloon.

One more strike and I was out.

In other words, I was in trouble.

It felt like a million years passed before Grandpa got up from his chair and joined me on the other side of the desk. The office still smelled of smoke from the disappearing message; it made me remember the way Gran's dining room had smelled right after I'd blown out my twelve (and one for good luck) birthday candles just a few weeks before—the night I found out I had superpowers. That seemed like a
trillion
years ago.

Grandpa put one hand on my shoulder. “I think you're beginning to understand how important this is,” he said.

I nodded hard but kept my eyes fixed on the floor.

“The Superhero Federation is a powerful institution, Zoe. The most powerful in the entire galaxy. They do not hand out any sort of punishment without giving the situation careful consideration first.”

“Baloney!” I said.

Grandpa looked at me in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“This is just a bunch of baloney!” I said more loudly. The nervous feeling I'd had when I started reading the letter had morphed into anger.

“I
had
to use my powers that day!” I went on.”If I hadn't, Howie and who knows who else would have been hurt. What did the
Federation expect me to do? Let my friends get squashed? Yeah, sure, I broke the rule—I used my powers sooner than I was supposed to, but c'mon, I saved someone's life! And these Federation guys are worried about my
timing?
That's just nuts!”

Grandpa was staring at me with his mouth open. I began to stomp around the office.

“It's not only nuts, it's unfair. You can't punish someone for doing something good!” I stopped and planted my hands on my hips. “Maybe I'm not cut out for this whole superhero thing. If the big bosses would rather I let my friend take a light fixture to the skull than use my powers ahead of schedule, then maybe I don't want to work for them.”

For a moment, Grandpa didn't seem to know what to say. “This probationary period is for your own protection as much as for the whole galaxy's safety,” he said at last.

“What about Howie's safety?” I demanded.”The Federation is a bunch of hippopotamuses!”

“Hypocrites,” came Gran's voice from the doorway. “I think you meant to say 'hypocrites.' ”

“Yeah. That's what I meant. Hypocrites. They want me to develop instincts and take care of the world, and then when I do, they go and pitch a fit just because the rules say I'm supposed to wait. Well, I bet Howie's glad I didn't wait.”

Gran laughed. “Excellent point. I agree with everything you just said. Well, except that part about not working for the Federation.” She crossed the room, then braced her hands on my shoulders and looked me directly in the eye.

“You have the mighty blood of Zip in your veins, and because of that you will
not
quit. I simply won't have it. I suggest you make a formal appeal and tell those big bosses, as you call them,
that you think the rules need to be tweaked a bit. You have every right to do so. Give them a piece of your mind, girl. Maybe they'll see reason. But in the meantime, you're going to get through this probation, pass that blasted test, and carry on the family legacy…
and
you're going to be darn good at it.”

I thought for a long moment. “Are you sure you're not just saying this to make me feel better about the whole probation thing?”

“Positive.” Gran's eyes twinkled. “When you're right, you're right. And besides, I spent the last two weeks working on
this
little beauty!” With that, she produced what she'd been clutching behind her back. It appeared in a flourish of pink and green— zippers shining, snaps glinting in the fluorescent light of the office.

My supersuit.