Totally Toxic (8 page)

As it swayed gently on its hanger, I could only stare at it— a two-piece ensemble that consisted of a shirt and a pair of pants. They were just about the coolest articles of clothing I'd ever seen, and I was pretty sure Emily would agree with me. I could tell Gran was still working on the suit because some of it was held together with straight pins, and several loose threads hung from the seams. But I knew that when it was finished, it was going to be fabulous.

The top was basically just a long-sleeved shirt, designed with broad hot pink and brilliant green stripes. Pinned to the shoulders was a flowing cape of shimmering pink fabric. Gran had marked the hem; it would come down to about the middle of my thighs. On the front of the shirt was my superhero logo. It was just like the symbol Grandpa had shown me the night he revealed the big
secret, but this one was embroidered in pink and green to match the suit.

The bottom part of the outfit was just as awesome to behold. The pants were green, with a bunch of cargo pockets and utility loops attached. They were cuffed at the knee, and I could see that Gran had sewn heavy-duty knee pads inside. I had already received a pair of superindestructible pink and green boots to complete the outfit.

“Fashionable and durable,” Gran pronounced.”
Very
durable.”

Grandpa reached out and touched one of the sleeves. “Dry clean only, of course.”

“The cape is fireproof,” Gran boasted. “Not to mention ultra-absorbent.”

“You made this for me?” I said in a hushed voice. “Even though I haven't even taken my test?”

“Yes,” said Gran confidently “We have absolute faith in you. We know you're going to succeed.”

“Here's another little something you might like,” Grandpa said, reaching into one of the file cabinet drawers and withdrawing a green knapsack.

“A backpack,” I said, though I guessed it was probably a whole lot more than just a backpack.

“This is where you'll store the supersuit when you're not wearing it,” Grandpa explained. He gave one of the many zippers a shake. “These are unmeltable.”

“Clever.”

“The fabric looks like everyday nylon,” he explained, “but actually, it's made by the Federation specifically for use by super-heroes. It won't snag, rip, shred, or fray.”

“Wow.”

“I've been trying to talk the Federation into marketing it to pantyhose manufacturers,” Gran added. “So far, no dice.”

I giggled.

“The pockets each serve a particular purpose.” Grandpa indicated each of the outer compartments and rattled off its function. “Digital tracking devices go here; truth serum vials slip securely into these pouches; code-breaking equipment is kept in this compartment, and intergalactic communication tools fit here.”

I took the backpack and examined it closely.

“The straps can be detached and used to restrain villains,” Grandpa continued. “The entire thing is laser-proof, which means it can double as a shield against any variety of ray-emitting weapon. Oh, and if you tug this flap three times, the backpack will glow in the dark.”

“Neat.” I took hold of the zipper that secured the front pocket and checked out the three little items that were clipped to it. They looked like key chains, the kind every kid in my class had hanging off his or her backpack. One was a minicheeseburger made out of rubber. The second was a yellow smiley face pom-pom, and the third was a plastic pennant that read
COOL KID.

I tried to imagine what I'd be able to do with these gadgets. Probably transmit top-secret information around the globe, or maybe spray memory-erasing gas, or see through brick walls.

“What do these do?” I asked eagerlyjiggling the gadgets through my fingers. “These things that look like regular key chains.”

Gran and Grandpa exchanged a look. “Those
are
regular key chains,” said Grandpa. “We put them on because we thought you'd like them.”

Oh. Well… that was good, too. I was crazy about cheeseburgers.

Gran gave me a wink, holding out the suit again. “Try it on.”

“Really?”

“I want to check the length on that cape. I think they're wearing them a little shorter these days.”

I took the hanger and hurried out of the office into the fitting room where Gran's customers tried on clothes for her to alter. I tore off my own clothes, then removed the supersuit from the hanger.

I got a little tangled in the cape trying to get the shirt over my head, and the pants had so many buttons, hooks, and zippers that I thought I'd never get them fastened.

When I finally got the pants on, I felt something in the front pocket. I reached in and pulled out a figure-eight-shaped scrap of green fabric.

Reverently, I placed it over my eyes and secured it behind my head with its elasticized strap. Then, drawing a deep breath, I turned slowly toward the full-length mirror and looked at myself. Zoe Richards, superhero.

Well, almost.

A volcano of pride erupted inside my chest as I marveled at my reflection. I seemed to be standing straighter than I ever had before, and there was a bold upward tilt to my chin.

A surge of confidence filled me, despite the mistakes I'd made so far, despite the probation, and despite the fact that I didn't fully agree with some of the Federation's rules and regulations.
I can do this
, I thought. Gran and Grandpa believed in me.

And suddenly, for the first time since discovering that I was
destined to be a force of good and justice in the universe, I believed in myself.

meeting was over when I got home. I carried the backpack into the house hidden under a pile of Dad's freshly dry-cleaned shirts that Grandpa had sent home from the shop. Just knowing I had the backpack was making me smile my head off.

Mom looked pretty happy, too.

“I guess the meeting went well,” I observed, placing the backpack near the stairs.

“Very well,” said Mom, taking the leftover lemon squares into the kitchen. “As soon as I told them about the waste pipe we saw dumping sludge into the river, everyone jumped right on board. We've planned a rally at the factory for Saturday.”

I grabbed a few empty plates and cups and joined her at the sink. “That sounds exciting.”

“Speaking of exciting…” Mom had a little smile on her face as she crossed to the refrigerator. “Josh left this for you.” One of
the meeting flyers was folded and stuck to the metal face of the fridge with a chrysanthemum-shaped magnet, next to my last geography test, the one with the huge red A+ on it. Mom removed the flyer and handed it to me.

I unfolded the flyer and saw that Josh had written a short note on the back of it. I immediately folded it up again for fear of fainting on the spot.

Oh, man! What an amazing day this was turning out to be. first the supersuit and an indestructible backpack, now this! A note from Josh Devlin in his very own handwriting (which was a little on the sloppy side, but hey, I could live with that)!

“He's a very nice young man,” said Mom, but her smile faded. “I wonder if Howie will feel bad about your receiving notes from another boy.”

Ugh. I'd forgotten that Mom was under the impression that Howie Hunt was my boyfriend. I'd had to use that fib a couple of times to cover up for superhero stuff. But seriously, how could I ever have Howie as a boyfriend? In first grade, we used to sit in the backyard and have contests to see which of us could stuff the most marshmallows into our mouth.

“C'mon, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It's a puny little note, it's not a dozen long-stemmed roses! And besides, it's not like Howie and me are married or anything!”

“Howie and
I,”
Mom corrected automatically. “I'd just feel awful if you broke poor Howie's heart.”

I saved poor Howie's life
, I reminded myself silently. To Mom, I said, “Don't worry. I won't.”

I took the note and left the kitchen, seizing my superbackpack on my way up the stairs. After tucking the backpack into the closet, I sat on the bed and opened the note.

My toes tingled. But it had nothing to do with shifting into superspeed!

I looked up from the note to see Emily poking her head in the door.