 
### Upbeats 2: Crime After Crime

By Erin Sheena Byrne

Copyright 2013 Erin Sheena Byrne

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

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Upbeats 2: Crime After Crime does not contain inappropriate material and is suitable for children, young teenagers and adults.

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Upbeats

**Table of Contents**

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Observer Scene

Author's Note

To Jolie, my collaborator

Chapter One

My name is Brooke O'Mackey.

I'm tall, athletic, pale skinned, blue eyed and I have shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair.

I'm fourteen, I go to high school, I'm not _that_ fantastic with my grades but they're good enough that no one has to tutor me.

Ask anyone, who has at least met me once, and they will tell you that I am fierce, fearless, determined and confident. And perhaps I am all that.

I have never been scared of anything, no one can stop me when I'm on a path, I think I've forgotten how to cry, and I'm not afraid to say what I'm thinking.

I live in a normal city called Rockwell.

Rockwell is not a terribly big city: in fact, the city part is rather small. In the heart of Rockwell, slap-bang in the middle, reside tall, sleek buildings and skyscrapers. But, walk a few blocks and you're past it. Then you're onto the normal town stuff: the mall, the shopping district, the restaurants, cafes, diners, and older buildings like the banks, libraries and the high school I go to.

If you saw my city on a map, you would see a large, misshapen rectangle with one of the long sides curving along the west coast. So, our winter isn't that cold, we don't get snow. But it is still cold enough to make you shiver.

The opposite long side of the rectangle, the "country outskirts" as they are called, is made up of a vast expanse of farms, old country houses, woods, mountains, rivers and wildlife.

The north end of the rectangle is Uptown Rockwell. That's where all the rich people live so you can pretty much imagine that it's clean, neat, fancy and really shiny.

The south end of the rectangle is Downtown. Downtown is dirty, it smells, it's dangerous and no one under the age of eighteen is allowed (by their parents) to roam the streets of Downtown alone after dark. Cheap, old and practically falling-to-pieces apartment buildings line the filthy streets; drunks dance, sing and sway along the streets at night and graffiti is scrawled everywhere.

Then, in between Uptown and Downtown, are the suburbs where most families live. The suburbs are neat with clean streets lined with tall trees whose leaves change colours in autumn and fall off in winter. The pavements are smooth and easy to ride a bike on. The front lawns are regularly mowed and the houses are smart looking double storey structures, vaguely identical, and well maintained. And the backyards are spacious and most have big trees with either a swing or a tree-house built-in.

I live in the suburbs, in a neat, double-storey family house that lacks a complete family.

My older brother, Arthur, is my legal guardian. He's a detective.

My brother cares for me, drives me around and whenever there are legal papers that need signing, he's the one who has to sign on the dotted lines. But he is not the only family I had.

There is also my dad, but he was never around much. He worked for the CIA (still does) and he was devoted to his work. He worked in a big city, like five hundred miles away, and we never saw him.

He used to come home on weekends and holidays and he used to work closer to home. But that wasn't the case anymore...

So our house is often empty.

It used to be so happy and cheerful. Back when my mom was still alive, dad worked in Rockwell and left home every morning at nine and came home every night at exactly five. He didn't work on the weekends.

Mom would have dinner ready, Arthur and I would come home from school, and we'd all sit around the table, exchanging stories from our day.

And when I was upset, nothing was working out the way I wanted it to, she would turn the music up as loud as she dared and then we'd dance like idiots until she got me laughing so much, I'd forget why I had been upset.

And my father loved her to bits.

Whenever he'd had a tough day at work; "couldn't catch the bad guy," as he would tell Arthur and me; Mom was the only person in the whole wide world who could get him smiling again.

Then one day, she died. No one even told me she was sick...

That was four years ago.

Dad started working longer after that. I never even realized that the clock was ticking further and further: it happened gradually. Then one day, he was gone so long; I nearly got Arthur to drive me down to the office to see if he was still alive.

I was a ten year old about to have a heart attack. Then my father walked through the door with a briefcase in his hand and an unsmiling face. I wanted to hug him and tell him how stupid I had been, but one glance at his face and I learnt to hold myself back from that day forth.

That was the first time my dad came home after dark.

Then he began accepting assignments that took him to other cities and states; something he had never done before.

Nevertheless, soon I was used to never seeing him.

And then he started changing offices. He used to call us often but, slowly, the calls got fewer and farther between.

Now it was amazing if I even received a voice message on the phone.

He was a grieving man. I could understand that. We were all grieving.

But he didn't have to leave Arthur and me alone.

There was a framed picture on my wall of my mother and me, taken when I was ten. Every time I woke up, I saw that picture. Sometimes, it made me sad, but it also reminded me of the good times I used to have with my mother.

My mom was great. She knew all the right things to say, and she never just _said_ anything: she meant it with her whole heart. She was the one who taught me that you never lie: if you are going to say something, then you are going to mean it. And promises are made to be kept.

So there, now you know me. Or, at least, you know the motherless, just about fatherless, in your face, afraid of nothing and no one, girl from across the road.

But there's so much more to me...

I'm a superhero, I can stretch to impossible lengths, I've saved the planet once and I've got a deadly enemy.

But I'm not alone: I've got a team: the Upbeats.

Chapter Two

It all started on a rainy, autumn day about a month ago.

The entire ninth grade was going on a field trip to the zoo.

I found it hard to be thrilled about it: I have never been much of a zoo person. I just never really liked the idea of walking around and reading random facts about animals in enclosures and habitats that were not their own.

But I wasn't going to complain about this trip because the zoo barely had any animals in it anyway: construction had not been completed yet.

So, in all truth, it was just going to be a trip to an unfinished building, which was someday _going_ to be a zoo.

(And, seriously, do you know any kid on this planet that _wouldn't_ jump at the chance to get a day off school?)

The field trip was not well planned, though. Besides the destination consisting of an incomplete zoo, another problem arose when we arrived at the zoo.

Only when the sea of ninth graders and a handful of teachers were all standing around the zoo lobby, dripping wet and shivering cold from the pouring rain outside, did the organizers of the field trip realize that there were too few teachers to shepherd the swarm of kids.

The brilliant solution was to revert to the old buddy system.

The plan was beautiful in its simplicity: groups of four kids could go their separate ways, meander freely amongst the few enclosures that had been completed and inhabited and observe the builders working hard on the "Under Construction" areas.

None of the groups had assigned leaders. But Luke Rosenhart, a tall boy with neat-but-ruffled white blonde hair and the kind of green eyes that tell you he is sensible and responsible, automatically became our leader.

He never said a thing and we never voted, but he's just one of those people you immediately turn to when you're in trouble, you need someone to look up to, or you don't know what to do next.

His doofus of a friend, Ned Detwiler, was in our group as well. Ned is Luke's complete opposite. Luke is fair and Ned is from African descent, Luke is realistic and Ned believes that only bad things can happen to him, Luke is sensible and serious and Ned can crack a joke when he's bound, gagged and about to be thrown over a cliff.

The selection was random: you didn't know who you were going to get stuck with. So I considered myself lucky when my long-time good friend, Robyn Diaz, got in with my group.

Robyn is short with long, dark brown hair, tanned skin and brown, almond shaped eyes. Like Luke and Ned, Robyn may be my friend, but we're opposites at the same time. I'm fearless, and she's afraid of everything. She is soft, shy, a bookworm and loves exploring the woods around her house. And me? I read only if I have to, "soft" is an adjective no one who knows me uses in my description and I keep getting lost in the woods.

Robyn sits quietly, observes, and notices every little detail and I can't even see what's right in front of my face half the time.

And Robyn sticks up for loners.

All kids assigned to a group and we were ready to head off.

Just before we left, however, the teacher in charge, Ms Ling, realized a slight miscalculation.

One kid had gone uncounted.

Smithy.

He moved to Rockwell about a month or two earlier but managed to remain below the radar. Because he never said anything and kept to himself, no one bothered with him. I don't even think the teachers acknowledged his existence.

To tell you the complete truth: I didn't trust Smithy right from the moment I learnt of his existence.

What does he have that he has to hide? Why doesn't he ever say anything?

But Luke, our team leader, allows him to be in this team-(and insists we trust each other)-so I have to keep my suspicions to myself until I can prove anything.

Robyn, just about the only one whoever does trust Smithy, invited him to join us.

So, the five of us went wandering around.

When we got to the reptile enclosure, the historic event that led to our careers as protectors of planet Earth took place.

Bees (that's right: bees) chased us.

(Bees have been known to make hives in buildings so it's not that odd that there were bees there. They would have continued their peaceful existence had I not come along and aggravated them.)

So we did what any sane person confronted by outraged, ready-to-sting bees would have done.

We ran, with no clear destination in mind, like a bunch of idiots.

And that directionless run led us straight into the unfinished hippo habitat.

Desperate and not thinking clearly, we followed Ned and jumped into the artificial lake to escape what could have been the most painful and uncountable series of bee stings ever delivered to a batch of fourteen year olds.

Little did we know that the previous night, an alien had crash-landed into the lake and some... _stuff_... spilt into the water.

He called them _Amepips_ , which is Martian, I think, for superpowers.

The alien was Joncelrin System of the Systematic Home World.

Despite the image you may have in your mind, he is not green with a little antenna and black eyes.

He's actually a skunk. He looks _identical_ to Earth skunks... except for the fact that he walks and talks like humans... and he's about a hundred times smarter than us.

Once he had introduced himself (and demonstrated his alien-ness by shape shifting from a normal human boy to a skunk), System explained the purpose of his little visit to Earth.

System had discovered an evil villain's plot to wipe out the human race. He tried to get help from his people, but, once that failed, he took it upon himself to come to Earth, band together a team of superheroes and stop the villain.

The villain's name is Gemini. System showed us a holographic picture that day we met him and I've see Gemini for myself once after that.

The first thought that sprang to my mind when I laid eyes on that evil maniac was... "He looks so human. How can he be evil?"

The picture showed him to be a tall, athletic man, probably in his thirties or forties, with black hair and silvery grey eyes. All of us were stunned when we realized just how much Gemini resembled Smithy. They could be brothers or something.

Gemini looks so human that it deceives you into believing he is human.

And I don't understand it, but it's somewhat easy to glance over the left side of his face, which is covered with metal, the only obvious sign he's _not_ human.

He wanted to destroy the human race. He didn't believe that humans should keep living... not when we don't appreciate our beautiful home, carry on ruining it and go on fighting one another for no true reason.

Okay, you will never hear me say that I don't agree with him... but let's not forget: I'm not the one trying to gas the entire planet here!

We nearly had him. The Intergalactic Police were all ready to take him away to some secure prison in space, lock him up and throw away the key.

Only problem being... he escaped.

So, now he was out there, somewhere, anywhere, and we had to find him and stop him before he tried to kill us all again.

Yes, it's true I said earlier that I am fearless, brave and afraid of _nothing_ , zip, nada.

But... there was something that scared me, deep down.

It was the horrifying thought that if the Upbeats were too late in finding Gemini before he tried to get rid of humans again...

Well, no one would ever wake up to another Saturday morning, to say the least.

It was a lot to put on the shoulders of a bunch of fourteen year olds.

In the meantime, however, I was determined not to let the responsibility cripple me.

I was going to be normal.

Chapter Three

"Thanks for coming along, Robyn," I said as we clambered along the narrow passage, struggling to move fast while not bumping or side-swiping unsuspecting heads, as we tried to claim the seats at the rear of the bus as eager kids piled on.

I was the captain of the girls' basketball team at Rockwell High and on this particularly frosty Sunday afternoon, we had been forced to endure a long, two, possibly three, hour ride to another town for a game we ended up losing.

I would have been going alone if Robyn had not offered to come along for moral support and to keep me company.

We had lost the game and it was my fault. Sure, coach said that when one person loses, the whole team loses, but this time it _really_ was my fault. I had been terribly distracted ever since we met System. My head was always racing, thinking about Gemini and hoping he wasn't lurking around the next corner I turned. My concentration was not at its best and I lost every easy catch, scored only two baskets and managed to drop the ball, clumsily, into the opposing team's hands a number of times.

I was just glad Robyn had tagged along.

I was actually quite popular, for a freshman, and I had a ton of friends on the girls' basketball team.

But I was not exactly being "Friend of the Year" towards any of them.

Ever since we met System, discovered our powers and Gemini came along (and escaped), I had been ridiculously busy with superhero stuff.

On top of all that, I have a history of blurting things out. I have what they call a "big mouth." I can keep a secret to the point of extreme torture (or death) but I don't always think before I talk. I didn't trust myself to keep my mouth shut about the whole Upbeats thing when I was around normal people. I had to be on the guard.

It felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders when I was around Robyn, Luke or Ned because we had all gone through the same thing, each of us had powers and we had the same mission. I didn't have to watch what I said or what I did when I was around the other members of the Upbeats because they understood.

"Well, it was either come with you on this packed bus full of sweaty girls and then watch a game, which I don't entirely follow, or tag along with my mom to the hospital on her shift," Robyn said, plainly.

I shrugged. "They're fumigating your house: what else can you do?"

Robyn was about to agree with me when a girl sat down, heavily, in the row of seats directly in front of her. The girl, who was panting as if she had run a mile carrying an elephant on her shoulders and sweating like a pig, began to remove her old, scuffed shoes and discoloured socks.

I swear, a fine, green mist drifted up, emanating from deep within the festering shoes and floated up to greet us.

I smelt the odour nearly every school day so I was used to the nose-crinkling, eye-watering, milk-curdling aroma. It was still mightily unpleasant but I had come to the point where I could at least pretend I had not smelt a thing.

But Robyn's nose wrinkled the instant the green mist wafted near her, as if it were trying to hide inside her face. "Termite poison sounds pretty good right about now," she mumbled. "I suppose I could hold my breath."

"For twelve hours?" I asked, trying, but soon to fail, to hold back the laughter that threatened to erupt.

I was uncertain if Robyn would be able to handle the bus ride home. Unsure how I would explain to her mother if Robyn came down with some kind of odour-induced illness, I offered to swap places with her.

Robyn stood up, gratefully, and scooted over to the other side of the bench.

It wasn't much, but maybe she would be able to handle the ride better if she was ever so slightly further away from the disgusting aroma.

"Your dad would have to get out the house too. Couldn't you spend the day with him?" I asked.

Robyn shook her head. "Nah, he's away on some business trip for the next two days."

I raised an eyebrow. "The part-time mechanic is away on a _business trip_?" I asked, disbelievingly.

Robyn held her hands up in a, "it doesn't make sense to me, either," gesture. "It's in Tokyo," she said.

I shook my head, utterly confused. Just as I was thinking of a good joke, I remembered something from the news last night. "Hey, did you hear on the news that story with the giant mutated duck in Tokyo? First it was lizards, now ducks. That city should consider relocating."

"The difference with this mutation is that it's real," Robyn said. "I just hope my dad's okay."

As I was unsure how to continue the conversation, I gazed out the window.

It was winter, and the world outside the bus was colder than ever.

As I said before, it didn't snow in Rockwell: even though we were near the mountains, we were also on the west coast, with a large percentage of our city bordering on the beach. The town we had just visited for the game, however, was over the mountains, further inland, and received some light snow in the middle of winter. Not enough snow that it caused a major disaster and grounded planes and began huge catastrophes, but enough that you had to be careful on the roads.

All the adrenaline from the game subsided, but I was still raging with frustration from not getting that last basket.

I had always found it extremely difficult to kill the frustration after a bad game. It took me a whole day to put a halt to the redness in my cheeks.

Some girls were spending forever, choosing their seats on the bus carefully as if their lives depended on getting the perfect seat. I was beginning to wonder if we would _ever_ get a move on when Coach Brand blew her whistle at a high enough volume to shatter glass (and eardrums.)

Automatically, I sat up straighter. My teammates abruptly ended their intense, engrossing conversations and swarmed into the bus at the last minute, dashing to their seats like scared rodents. Once everyone was in, the driver pulled out of the parking lot and began the long trip home.

As soon as we were cruising, Robyn pulled out a thick paperback book from her backpack and started reading.

Robyn loved books: known throughout Rockwell High for reading a book a day. Sometimes, a book an hour.

I'm not much into reading: in my spare time, I'll be doing something. However, you'll always find Robyn scanning the endless aisles of books at the library, searching for an interesting book she hadn't read yet.

Robyn doesn't _just_ read, though. She's also champion of the swim team: fastest free-style swimmer in the ninth grade (and she can hold her breath for an insanely long time.)

Nevertheless, Robyn was never happiest than when she had located a quiet, isolated spot somewhere far from any life (preferably somewhere in the woods,) and her head was stuck in a thick, well-written book.

This particular book sported a cool, reflective cover that roused even my limited interest.

The other girls in the bus continued their excited chatter, some flipped through magazines, some were on the phone to their other friends not on the basketball team but most were just staring out the window, listening to their music through their head-phones.

I was tempted to join the latter group but my phone's charge was running low, and I reasoned that it might be wiser rather to save it for a time when I needed it.

I resorted to watching the icy scenery flash past.

We drove along a freeway lined either side of the road with forests of tall pine trees, capped with light snow falling like skirts on their layers of leaves and branches.

Poetry is not my strong point, but driving in winter always made me feel somewhat poetic.

(Of course, it's always a little unpoetic when you're breath fogs up the window and you can't see out so well.)

In the lane next to us, driving in the same direction as us, was a pick-up truck carrying, not crates or barrels of hay, but alpacas. White, cream, beige, brown and black alpacas. They looked like they were having a whale of a time with their tongues hanging out like dogs enjoying the wind in their faces.

For a moment, I wondered if it was too cold for them in the heart of winter to be uncovered, standing around in the back of an uncovered pick-up truck. Closer examination of their fur coats made me realize they were warm enough for the meantime.

The alpacas seemed to be rather happy, (utterly delighted, was more like it,) as if they were a bunch of little kids, having begged their parents for months on end until they finally agreed to go to the amusement park.

The pick-up truck sped up and disappeared out of my field of vision: he was overtaking our bus.

I sat back and turned my attention to the other window, across the bench. On the other side of the road, forest gave way to cliffs. A long, waist-high metal railing lined the road, as if to stop any vehicles that were going to plummet to their doom.

You never think about it, but when you see that railing, you instantly trust it, with all your heart, as if you know it's going to save your life.

I trusted that railing. I honestly did.

But it wasn't too long until that trust was shattered like glass.

Suddenly, without any warning, the bus started to swerve, violently, across the road.

Then the bus, teetering dangerously on only two wheels, began to skid.

It was like a carnival ride thought up by a crazy, demented, completely insane lunatic.

For a sickening moment, it felt like the entire bus would collapse on its side.

I'm not the one to panic often but, right then, my mind was convincing me this was the end.

The bus skidded as if without a driver. For a horrifying moment, I wondered if the driver had disappeared, abandoned ship, so to speak. The driver's seat was invisible to me: blocked by the rows and rows of screaming, frantic and horrified teenage girls. I knew he was still there when the bus seemed to somehow stop the ferocious skidding and get back on two wheels once again.

For a microsecond, it felt as if the brutal skidding and tilting on one side had come to a stop.

But we were still swerving. You could feel the tyres struggling to catch a grip on the icy road. It felt like an ice-skating rhinoceros was balancing the bus on its shoulders.

Everyone was harshly flung to the left and then the right. Shoulders bashed into more shoulders, heads knocked windows and kids sitting on aisle seats were flung out their seats like rag dolls.

Robyn crashed into me and I banged my head on the glass window. It stung and I knew it would result in the biggest bruise I had ever been dealt in my life.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

"If I could have helped it, do you think I would have slammed into you on purpose?" Robyn replied, her faint Spanish accent suddenly growing stronger.

Then the bus took a sharp turn and everyone was tossed to the right again. I clutched and dug my fingernails into the seat to prevent myself from slamming into Robyn.

Then, with a sickening thud, crunch and metal on metal scraping that pierced everyone's eardrums; the bus lurched forwards. Those who had managed to stay in their seats tipped forward.

Robyn was launched out her seat and onto the floor of the bus. The girl who sat in front of us had managed to get both shoes off before the terrible accident and now the festering shoes tumbled away from her and hit Robyn square in the nose.

She started mumbling in Spanish and then, "That ain't funny!" she said, in English. Robyn slid across the floor, on her back, to the front of the bus. When she came to a halt, she sat up. Her hair was in a mess with her fringe in her eyes and long locks of thick, chocolate brown hair plastered to her face. She didn't look happy. (I bet she wished she had just spent the day breathing in harmful chemicals at her house.)

The screech of the tyres, the engine straining and the high-pitched shrieks of girls had nearly killed my eardrums.

Can you imagine a bus full of girls not shrieking when the bus began to plummet? I can't. Everyone screamed like there was no tomorrow.

My heart stopped. When it started again, it raced like a speeding bullet.

"What just happened?" some girls shouted.

No one had to reply, it was easy to figure it out. The driver must have swerved to miss something, lost control on the icy roads and right about now, I figured we were hanging, perilously, over the edge of a cliff.

This was a textbook example of a disaster.

Nevertheless, it was about to be the perfect textbook example of a superhero rescue...

Chapter Four

The bus, for a fraction of a second, was trapped in time. Everyone was frozen, glued to their seats (if they had managed to remain in their seats throughout the ordeal.)

Time caught up to us and chaos reigned. Everyone pulled out phones as they cried, shouted, screamed or just wished they were anywhere on the planet just. Not. On. That. BUS!

Our coach was giving instructions in that voice grown-ups use when a situation is rather dire. The tone of voice that is desperately trying to calm everyone down but at the same time had an underlying, hard not to notice, pitch of sheer panic.

I didn't listen to what she was saying.

Somehow, my mind was as sharp as a blade in danger. Calming down, I looked up and noticed the emergency exit. Standing up on the seat, I opened the small hatch covered with a thin layer of snow above my head, hoping no one heard the rusty creak.

Nervously waiting for every head to turn in my direction, I froze. When I was convinced no one had heard me, and no one was too concerned about what I was doing right at that moment, I hoisted myself onto the cold metal of the bus roof. No one batted so much as an eyelash.

Robyn somehow managed to crawl to the back of the bus without anyone paying any attention to her either and climbed onto the roof to join me.

Once on the roof of the bus, the freezing, icy wind biting through our jackets, we could see the full extent of the damage.

The bus was definitely in great peril, hanging over a cliff. I stretched my upper body far enough to see over the bus.

My heart had a few extra inches to climb to reach my throat... it was a long drop to the bottom.

More than half the bus was suspended over the rails, the wheels spinning in vain, the entire yellow-painted frame rocking menacingly and a horrifying sound drumming beneath us: the sound of metal groaning as the bus slid, slowly, only moments from tumbling to its doom.

"This is bad," I said. It was the understatement of the century.

"Well, what do we do now?" Robyn asked.

My razor sharp mind paused, as if saying, _"Yeah, that's as far as I'll take you."_ I shrugged. "I don't know: we need Luke here. Maybe we could—"

"That'll take too long," Robyn cut in. "Luke and the others are in Rockwell, hours away. We have to save these people _now_."

Robyn had somehow managed to keep her backpack with her throughout the disaster. She unzipped the main section and pulled out two masks, a wig of short, bouncy, brown curls and another wig: a sleek blonde bob.

We came up with the disguises in a sad attempt to hide our identities. The black masks only covered the area around our eyes, but the wigs did a lot to throw people.

I fitted the blonde wig over my thin, strawberry blonde hair I had tied in a small bun and carefully applied my mask.

Robyn had really long and really thick hair. But, somehow, she managed to hide it all under the mass of bouncy curls.

We were ready to save the day!

Only one problem... we didn't have a plan...

"Okay, now what?" I said. My "sharp as a blade" mind was still hitting a blank. Maybe it was the cold was affecting it.

Robyn quietly examined the bus. The screaming from inside the bus had not yet ceased. The shouts and cries were deafening; I don't know how Robyn managed to concentrate on anything.

"I could just move the bus back onto the road," Robyn suggested.

"Yeah, that's good," I said in a heartbeat.

"But that won't work," Robyn said.

The way she said it gave me that feeling you get when a sneaky, sadistic persons pulls out a little pin and pops a balloon you were holding. "Huh? What do you mean it won't work? How can't that work?"

Robyn pointed to the road.

I turned around, cautiously, aware that any sudden movement could equal chaos, and looked back over the road full of cars pulling up, the drivers and passengers coming over to see what they could do or just standing at a safe distance and taking photos on their cell phones.

"This bus is big," Robyn explained, calmly. "I can't just dump it on the road; I'd have to move all those other cars out the way first."

"Yeah, I can see that," I agreed, nodding my head, slowly.

"I can't believe how many people have stopped already," Robyn commented as more cars joined the dozen or so already parked.

The bus began to quake and tip a little further over the edge. It rocked, ominously, threatening to plunge over the edge any second.

The screams from within the bus intensified.

Immediately, I stretched out my arms and wrapped them around the bus multiple times, until I was positive I had a firm hold on the vehicle.

I walked backwards and stretched my legs, gradually, as I stepped off the bus. Now I was standing on the road, my arms wrapped tightly around the bus, hoping against all hope that I didn't lose my grip.

I gritted my teeth. Buses are heavy, to say the least, and my feet were starting to slide. The bus was tipping forwards and it was intent on dragging me down with it.

As fast as a whip, I elongated and wound my legs around a sturdy (but icy to the touch) power pole. When it didn't bend over or buckle from the extra weight, I caught my breath and told myself I was justified in feeling secure for the time being.

The bystanders gasped, pulled out phones from pockets and handbags, and started taking videos that would go viral in a matter of seconds.

Robyn, still standing on the roof of the bus, closed her eyes.

"Don't just stand there; do something!" I yelled, indignantly, at my friend.

But, as I spoke, Robyn was doing something.

The lengthened muscles in my arms straining, I turned my head around to see what Robyn was accomplishing.

The cars that had parked on the road, preventing us from placing the bus on the safety of the asphalt, began to rise up, as if an invisible hand was picking them up, one by one, and placing them, gently, a little further down the road.

All together, there were about twenty cars parked on the road. Each one rose into the air, hovered for a second, and then proceeded to move itself out of the way, drifting above the heads of gawking spectators.

The only problem was that more cars were gathering to watch the grand spectacle getting grander by the second.

The bystanders were torn between taping the girl with the unnaturally extended arms and taping the cars that suddenly decided to just lift themselves up, with no strings attached, and plonk down a couple of metres down the road.

"Thanks," I called to Robyn.

She smiled. "You're welcome," she said, sweetly.

She climbed down off the bus. "Need any help?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, softly. Then, with more volume and emphasis, "DO EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO HELP ME GET THIS BUS BACK ON LAND!"

Robyn stood next to me and concentrated, hard, on moving the bus with her thoughts alone.

She did as much as she possibly could to move the bus with her mind but she was tiring after moving all the cars.

Our powers were still quite young. And, as System explained every so often, we didn't get our powers in the proper, traditional way. You aren't supposed to jump into a pool of _Amepips_. It's a long, scientific process I can't dream of understanding.

With a lot of huffing and puffing, gritted teeth and clamped, shut eyes, I was able to heave the bus a couple of inches over the broken, useless rails.

My elongated arms were starting to lose their strength. I nearly let the bus slip. The bus rocked, dangerously. The girls on the bus, who had put a pause to their screaming for a few moments to crowd at the back of the bus and watch the daring rescue, started up their fits of screaming murder again.

I looked, indignantly, over my shoulder at the bystanders. They just... stood there, as if someone had glued them to the frozen asphalt.

"You all do really good impressions of trees!" I yelled out, hotly. "Put those muscles to work and HELP US OUT ALREADY!"

My little motivational speech dissolved the glue.

Robyn focussed harder, I wrapped my arms around the bus another lap for extra strength and some strong (as well as some not-so-strong but willing) guys, who had been watching, slack-jawed; moved in, unwrapped my legs from around the pole and added their strength to the equation, pulling with all the might they could muster.

I was concentrating so hard on pulling up the bus and not letting go, I barely noticed the crowd of photographers and journalists that arrived on the scene, swarming like the bees that day at the zoo.

My strained, racing mind spared a few moments to wonder how the news crews had managed to turn up so fast.

Cameras started flashing and clicking; journalists started, immediately, to write notes; and television reporters started to retell the events of the past twenty minutes in their serious, "This is actually happening," voices; staring intently into the lens' of the numerous cameras.

I cannot say how long it took, but we got the bus back onto the frosty asphalt with a great deal of huffing, puffing, gritted teeth, grunting and a few vain efforts.

But we succeeded, eventually.

I will forever remember the satisfaction of hearing the black, rubber tyres land on Terra Firma.

My arms were so sore and tired after that, they were barely able to withdraw to their original length.

I was exhausted and I was anticipating a lot of pain when I woke up in the morning. I glanced over at Robyn who looked like she had the headache to end all headaches.

The look we exchanged said we were both ready to collapse. Still, we had just saved the day, as heroes do. We were two, not-so-ordinary teenage girls who just saved the day. Despite the fatigue, we found ourselves laughing that inexplicable laugh people laugh when they just did something they never thought they could manage.

We high-fived each other. "That was crazy," I said to my friend.

We were ready to leave the scene, find a hidden spot to remove our disguises and hopefully sneak back as if nothing had happened.

But before we even caught our breath, journalists and reporters swamped us, scrambling to ask questions, listen to the answers and then write them down as fast as possible.

"Can you tell us where you were before you arrived here?"

"Did you _really_ just stretch?"

"How did those cars move and did you have anything to do with it?"

"Where did you come from?"

"What did it feel like to save that bus-load of teenagers?"

"Why are you here?"

And then, the one question I knew they would ask, but sincerely hoped they wouldn't:

"Who are you?

Chapter Five

My mind, without a moment to recover, was spinning like a top with people asking questions I couldn't answer; the cameras flashing in my eyes, blinding me; and the endless hum of gratitude and thanks from the girls on the bus.

And, the cherry on top, the overwhelming, annoying and utterly aggravating television reporters kept shoving microphones up our noses.

I didn't know how I was ever going to get away from the crowd of maniacs.

But then, just as I was afraid I might develop claustrophobia from so many people pressing against me, an opportunity presented itself.

Out of nowhere, Smithy, wearing his trademark worn-and-torn jacket, jeans faded at the knees and scuffed sneakers (and, at the moment, a black mask exactly like ours), appeared. He had teleported into the middle of the swarm of journalists and reporters, right to where Robyn and I were standing.

"See you on the other side," he said with a slight smile as everyone who saw the new hero arrive gasped.

Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed Robyn's arm in one hand and my arm in the other and we were gone. I would have kicked, screamed and refused to be teleported away, had he not done it so swiftly, leaving me no choice.

I just had to shut my eyes as tight as possible and vow never to open them ever again.

I hated teleporting. I had only been teleported once, back at the warehouse. But I didn't like it one bit. Mostly because I didn't trust Smithy to get us to the other-side alive.

One moment, you are standing in the middle of a crowd of reporters, journalists and innocent bystanders, and the next: you're out of there, leaving no trace of you behind except for a transparent, blue mist.

I hated that feeling.

"Brooke, you can open your eyes," Robyn said, a soft laugh in her tone.

"No, you can never make me open my eyes..." I said, stubbornly. I would never open my eyes again... but I realized just how ridiculous that sounded: after all, I was standing on solid ground again.

Despite myself, I cautiously pried one eye open. We were standing on the other side of the not-so-busy freeway, hidden from prying eyes by a cluster of towering pine trees.

I looked across the road at the puzzled crowd that had gathered. From far away, the multitude of people seemed even bigger than I first imagined.

Smithy was leaning against a thick tree trunk, his eyes closed tight, one hand clutching his chest and trying to catch his breath again.

Robyn rushed to his side. "Are you—?"

"I'm fine," he said, straightening up and pretending, rather convincingly, that nothing had just happened.

Robyn looked unpersuaded but shook it off. "Thanks," she said, softly. "How did you find out about this so quickly?"

"I just happened to be listening to the radio and they were reporting on the 'daring' rescue. I got here as soon as I could get away from Sandi." He smiled. "You guys didn't do so badly on your own."

I should have been tempted to ask who Sandi was, but I didn't really care. "Well, it wasn't easy," I chimed in. "Whether we like it or not, the Upbeats are now going viral."

Smithy looked over to the crowds. "Well, you two are officially heroes," he commented.

A series of sirens could be heard, coming into hearing range. It wasn't long until ambulances and police cars arrived on the scene, pulling up and setting to work.

We watched as, one by one, each of the teenagers was checked from head to toe for injuries.

I sighed. "I guess it's time to go and act traumatised," I said, stripping off my mask and wig.

"Are you going to hang around here?" Robyn asked Smithy.

He thought about it for a moment. "I'll stick around, see how things turn out. If you need me, I'll be here."

♫

Robyn and I removed our wigs and masks and handed them to Smithy, who promised to return them later.

We were about to step back onto the scene when we both paused. Robyn and I turned to each other, stared at one another, trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture, and proceeded to mess up each other's hair.

On any other occasion, if you mess up a girl's hair, you are likely to require surgery afterwards. But Robyn and I were laughing as we completely ruined each other's look.

Once we were certain we had utterly sabotaged one another's hair, we began tugging and yanking at each other's clothes until we looked as dishevelled as any other girl who had been on the bus.

"There, now we look like we've been through trauma," Robyn announced.

"Thanks," I said. It felt weird to thank my friend for messing up my look, but I was truly grateful. "Time to go act traumatized."

We snuck back onto the scene and pretended to have been on the bus the whole time. Nobody noticed we had been gone and no one noticed our late arrival.

Paramedics checked everyone out to see if there had been any injuries. I had a throbbing bump on the side of my head where I had slammed into the window and Robyn had a bruise on her head where she had bumped it on the bus when she slid across the floor.

Besides bruises and minor cuts, no one had been seriously harmed.

Police officers arrived to take statements and figure out what happened.

The bus driver was too shaken up to answer any questions. He just kept going on and on about some llama spitting him in the face.

He was too much of a wreck to drive the bus home, so we had to wait for our families to arrive and pick us up.

My dad wasn't coming: I didn't even bother to call him. He would probably live his whole life and forever be none the wiser as to this event.

(I knew for sure that he would never know I was the hero who had just saved my basketball team.)

Instead, I called Arthur and he was on his way.

Robyn closed her phone after discussing the situation with her mother. "She's having a hard time getting off work," Robyn said. Despite the situation, she laughed lightly and shook her head. "Mom just asked me a thousand and one questions about broken bones and internal bleeding. She is such a mother."

"And an ICU nurse," I added. Robyn's mother is accustomed to dealing with trauma victims, broken bones, internal bleeding, and, often, fatal injuries.

"And, seeing as my dad is in Tokyo... would you mind if I caught a ride home with you?" Robyn asked.

I shrugged. "Eh, why not?"

♫

I was sitting in the back of some random person's car, trying to get out of the way of the cold. Draped over my shoulders was a soft blanket a paramedic gave me. It was the kind of blanket every shock victim is given. I snuggled deep within it, indebted to that random paramedic for the warmth of the thick, bleakly coloured material.

Calming down was much easier when we were far away from the chaos. Now Robyn and I were just two regular girls, like every other regular girl in the world. Why bother with us?

I buried my nose into a fold of the material, trying to warm it up a few degrees. I noticed one of the paramedics, tall-framed, brown-haired, square-jawed, in his late twenties and very familiar, making his way through the mass of people towards us.

His boots crunched snow as he approached. "Glad you were here," he said in greeting.

It was John McGill, a paramedic the Upbeats met a month ago. He was one of the only people on this planet who knew the true identities of the Upbeats.

On our first rescue mission as a team (saving a little girl from a burning building) John was on the scene. He was the only person who turned around and saw us. This was before we came up with our brilliant disguises.

And then, on the night we stopped Gemini from contacting the Monmia, the aliens he had employed to destroy us, John was there, too. (There was a little accident and the warehouse started burning to the ground.)

We knew we could trust John. He would never tell anyone who we were or what these five normal teenagers were really doing.

"I'm just glad we were able to get that bus back on the road," I said.

"I admit, I'm impressed," John said, gazing at the scene. The chaos began to die down and the random people who had stopped to tape the spectacle were helping the paramedics and police.

"Do you know why the bus driver lost control?" Robyn asked.

John ran a hand through his brown hair. "That's not really my department—"

"Oh," Robyn said, dropping her eyes to the ground. "Never mind, then."

"I only said it's not my department: that doesn't mean I didn't investigate," John's eyes sparkled like a mischievous two year old. "Some of the guys over there are working the whole thing out, I overheard them. Apparently, a pick-up truck trying to overtake the bus was carrying a load of alpacas in the back and one of the alpacas, for some reason, just spat the bus driver square in the face. The driver for a moment couldn't see clearly, panicked and lost control and, well... you know the rest. You were there."

"Why did the alpaca spit the driver in the face?" I mused.

John shrugged. "The driver of the pick-up didn't see the accident and drove on, completely unaware. No one's going to press charges. Besides, it was the alpaca's fault. And no one's going to track down and question an alpaca."

"It's like they say: never work with animals... or kids," Robyn commented.

The three of us laughed together.

"Man, those journalists only swamped you two," John observed.

"They wanted to know who we were," Robyn told him. "But we can't tell anyone." Robyn looked up at John with a quiet question in her eyes as she said the last statement.

"I understand. Your secret is safe with me, don't worry," John assured us. "Hey, was that Smithy I saw teleport in and rescue you two?"

Robyn nodded.

"How's his shoulder?"

(Last month, at the warehouse, Gemini shot at us but only succeeded in hitting Smithy in the shoulder.)

"He's fine," Robyn replied. "It's clearing up rather nicely."

"That's good. Anyway, I've gotta go," John said, turning to leave. "You two stay safe."

Chapter Six

What happened, from the alpacas' point of view, as told by Almond, a young male alpaca.

For months, we alpacas had been calmly going about our usual alpaca business, grazing in the field and watching out for any signs of trouble, in case we had to warn the herd.

Our little farm was cosy, happy, and I had a nice family group.

We were content amongst ourselves but everyone is driven a little bit nuts if they don't get out occasionally.

Therefore, we had been trying for ages to convince our farmer to take us out some place.

We had been sneakily placing photographs from newspapers in and around areas most trafficked by our farmer and his family, flocking around his pick-up truck and sometimes migrating to the end of the driveway and staying there until he came past and saw us, waiting until he realized our cunning suggestions.

However, it always ended the same way: the photos were thrown away, we were chased away from his pick-up truck and he herded us away from the front gates.

Nevertheless, eventually, he got the hint!

It was freezing cold, though. Our farmer had no sense of timing, I guess. But at least we were getting outta that place!

So, we were herded into the back of the pick-up truck, all ready and anticipating a nice ride along the countryside.

Oh, the rush!

The wind in my face! Cars racing past us! The fresh air!

I was enjoying it so much, it was almost criminal!

Then a car sidled up to our vehicle and I noticed a dog sitting on the passenger seat. His window was down and he was sticking his head out the window, his tongue hanging out.

I gave it a go and stuck my tongue out, too.

Now I could _taste_ the wind!

I had never experience such excitement in my life!

But my delight ceased entirely when we drove up to a huge, yellow vehicle. It was noisy. And it stank!

When we reached the front of the vehicle, I noticed the human inside that seemed to be controlling the big yellow vehicle. His window was down and a stream of disgusting smoke was swirling and circling out the window, coming from a strange cylinder he had stuck in his mouth.

I was indignant. How rude could he be? He was ruining my day out!

Curious, I leaned over and examined the cylinder closer.

I gasped. It was housing a small fire!

I didn't want it to burn the human's face!

In an attempt to protect the human, I aimed and spat. I am very precise with my spit, just so you know.

I watched my little bullet of spit arch through the air and land right on the burning cylinder.

Victory!

Though, the driver didn't seem to like it. I could not imagine _why_ he was so upset: I just put out that fire! I saved his life!

We sped along and I couldn't see what happened to the driver.

But at least my air was clean again and I could continue enjoying my joyride along the mountains...

Chapter Seven

### Brooke

The reporters and journalists continued with their reports, furiously writing notes, bombarding teenagers with questions and taping anything they could on their little handheld audio recorders.

The disappearance of the two heroes didn't seem to stumble them for too long.

Most of the girls that had been on the bus when it had nearly plummeted to its doom were more than willing to answer questions and have cameras flashing at them from all angles. They were going to be on the news all over the planet tonight.

That did not help ease the churning feeling in my stomach. It was a brave and noble thing to save the bus. The girls on that bus were my teammates; they were my friends. Nevertheless, even if they were all complete strangers, and if I could have gone back in time, I would have done the exact same thing, all over again.

I just wished there had been a way for us to stop the journalists and reporters and cameras.

That story was going to go international, and there was nothing I could do about it.

It was a small comfort, but at least Robyn and I had been wearing our wigs and masks. No one would figure out too quickly that it had been us.

But the Upbeats weren't ready to go public. We were the secret defenders of Earth. Angela Spike, the Intergalactic Police Force lady who tried to capture Gemini, said that humans weren't ready yet to know about aliens. Just about every other planet in the universe knew about other people on other planets, but Earth was completely ignorant.

The planet wasn't ready for superheroes. Humans didn't even know how to cope with ordinary people saving other humans, how were they going to react when the Upbeats came along?

I didn't want to be famous.

For two hours, I sat around, waiting for my brother to come and pick me up. When journalists started getting too close, ready to ask a hundred and one questions, Robyn and I dodged them and moved to another spot. It worked brilliantly, we lost them all... except one.

Sabrina Ride, Rockwell High's very own Lois Lane.

She had come along with the basketball team to write about it in the school's paper next week.

And, boy, was she going to have a story now!

Robyn and I had a hard time shaking her off.

I don't believe in gambling, but I would bet my last buck, if anyone was going to figure out who the Upbeats were, it would have been Sabrina Ride. And I did not like her one bit.

She came bounding up to us: a pencil resting over her ear, a notepad in hand and a professional photographer's camera hanging from a thick neck-strap and bouncing around as she jogged over to us.

"Hey, did you guys get a clear look at those two superheroes?" Sabrina asked, barely able to contain herself. She sounded like a little kid in a candy store with a hundred dollar gift card.

We were hanging around some stranger's car. Robyn was sitting in the back seat, the car door open and her legs dangling out the car. I was standing, leaning on the boot of the car.

"We weren't on the bus," Robyn said, without thinking. I kicked her, imperceptibly.

"What my friend meant to say was: no, we didn't get a good look at the superheroes."

And it was true: I didn't see myself.

Sabrina wrote it down, faster than a speeding bullet.

"Do you have any idea what they call themselves?"

"Idiots," I muttered under my breath.

"Huh?"

Robyn kicked me, discreetly. "What my _amigo_ meant to say was, no, we don't know what they call themselves."

This was also true, I didn't have any cool superhero name.

Though, it did give me an idea...

"Do you think these two heroes will show up sometime in the near future? Do you think they want to save more people? Who do you think...?"

Sabrina's constant drone of questions faded to the background noise as I watched the cars that kept coming and going, waiting for my brother to arrive.

Losing myself in my thoughts, I was trying to think of reasons why this whole publicity thing could be useful.

I wouldn't add optimist to the long list of words I use to describe myself, but I'm no pessimist.

I like to think I'm realistic. And there had to be some good that came from the unwanted publicity.

Maybe the world could use some superheroes... it might even prove useful to us. We would have to be extremely careful, though. One false move and we'd be toast.

My thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when I saw my brother's Ford pull over beside a police car.

"No comment," I said, hastily excusing myself. I grabbed Robyn and yanked her out the car she had been peacefully residing in for the past ten minutes.

Leaving Sabrina behind, I marched over to my brother with a confused Robyn trailing behind me.

When Arthur caught sight of me, he dropped his conversation with an officer and hugged me so fast and so tightly, I thought I heard something crack inside me. The air was squeezed out of me, I could barely breathe and my arms were pinned to my sides. My brother is stronger than he looks.

I didn't have the nerve to protest, though. When he buried his face in my hair, I could feel him start crying.

Relieved was too light a term to describe my brother at that moment.

"I'll, um, catch you later," Robyn said, feeling more and more like a third-wheel the longer she hung around the happy reunion.

I heard her walk away, her shoes crunching snow as she swiftly left from the touching scene.

I was pinned so tightly, I couldn't move even an inch to bid my friend goodbye.

I suppose she went off to find Smithy and I guess he took her home. I don't know, I never asked her.

Chapter Eight

Arthur spent an hour trying to piece together exactly what happened to the bus.

I tried to convince him he wasn't part of the forensics department, but it failed.

Eventually, after much pleading, hinting and suggesting, I twisted his arm into taking me home.

It was dark by the time we got onto the highway; the stars struggling to shine through the orange glow the large highway lamps cast over the four parallel lanes.

Arthur hadn't said much more than, "I'm glad you're alright," and "I was so worried," since we got in the car.

It was awkward, to say the least. I wanted to say something but, out of all the options that ran through my mind, nothing sounded right. Nothing felt like it could possibly ease the awful silence between us.

I was just grateful the radio was on; at least then we could both pretend we were preoccupied listening to the music.

It wasn't a station I would have chosen, had I a say in the matter. It was a station that played a marathon of Rock & Roll music from the fifties, sixties, seventies and eighties.

It was a genre I knew Luke would have enjoyed, but it wasn't for me. I much prefer pop.

Tempted, though I was, to change the station, I just couldn't work up the strength to move a single muscle: my arms felt like grinded, pulverized jelly.

I sighed and leaned back in my seat as Elvis Presley took to the stage.

My eyes grew heavy with sleep and I nearly nodded off, the steady, constant motion of the car and the hum of the engine rocking me to sleep.

You know how sometimes, when you're really tired, you begin dreaming, even before you're asleep, and the dream slowly helps you nod off but then, in the dream, you fall or something jumps out at you and you instantly jump? And then you feel stupid for having jumped because you realize it was just a dream.

Well, just as I jolted awake, hoping my brother didn't notice, I heard the radio news presenter interrupt the playlist.

I was about to nod off again when he began reporting on the bus incident.

I sat up straighter and listened, intently. Arthur must have noticed because he turned the volume up a notch.

"The bus was in great peril when two superheroes, unnamed, came to the rescue. This is no joke: _they actually had super powers_ , as I am told by eyewitnesses and the members of a girls' basketball team who were on the bus as it hung, dangerously, over a cliff.

"One of the two superheroes, both believed to be young girls, actually stretched her arms, like 'a piece of chewing gum,' as a witness described it, and wrapped them around the vehicle to prevent it from plunging over the edge. Now, there are debates about the other hero's role but some believe she used her _mind_ to move cars out of the way so the bus could be placed, safely, on the road again. I'm here with Stacy, a girl on the team, who—"

Arthur changed station, abruptly.

"Superheroes," he said, more to himself than to me.

"Yeah, crazy, huh?" I pitched in. "Who comes up with this stuff?"

"No, I believe it," he corrected. "Everyone there saw it, they have video evidence and not everyone can lie so consistently. It's just..." he trailed off.

"It's just that it's hard to believe. It's hard to imagine there could _really_ be heroes out there," I offered.

"Hmm... maybe." Arthur looked over at me and ruffled my hair. "I am eternally grateful to them, though, for saving my little sister."

"I guess they knew how special a little sister-bigger brother relationship is."

We didn't say much after that, but the silence wasn't as awkward as it had been...

Chapter Nine

I had an idea. It came to me just as I entered that deep, far away sleep where time speeds up, the world melts away and you are no longer aware of the world around you.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my heart pounding, my mind racing and my fringe sticking to my forehead, but I had an idea!

I glanced at the glowing numbers on my alarm clock. 3:24 a.m. I hadn't slept much but there was no way I was going to fall asleep now.

Once I had woken up, I remained awake, staring blindly up at my ceiling, formulating my idea.

It was brilliant. It was fantastic!

And I couldn't wait to tell the others after school when we met up at the cave, as we did every day once school let out.

♫

I ran through the woods, heavy rain drenching my jeans, my jacket, my hair, my _everything_.

I was pumped, adrenaline flowed through my whole body and I, for once, forgot to think about how much I hated the rain. My muscles were killing me from the previous day, but I loved my new idea so much and I was so positive that the others would agree... I couldn't focus on much else.

It was such a groundbreaking, Earth-shattering, space-invading idea, there was no way on this planet or any other that the others could argue with this brilliant brainwave!

It was after school, Monday, the day after the bus incident. It had become routine for the Upbeats to meet at the cave every day after school.

It had started out as a way for us to check up on System, practise our powers, and just feel as if we were being useful. For all our powers and what-not, we weren't of much use until we found Gemini.

System was a master of signals and communications. Creating, detecting and disguising alien radio stations were his little hobby. Every day, when we hung out around the cave, System worked hard at building radar detectors. He wouldn't sleep until he detected a signal from Gemini.

A month ago, when we first met System, he explained how he had found out about Gemini's evil plans. He had intercepted some transmissions and discovered that Earth, a planet that is galaxies away from his home world, was in danger. System wasted no time: he leapt straight into action. His people would do nothing to help us, and they didn't like System, a young Systematic, telling them what to do. So he set out to build a team of superheroes to save the planet, on his own.

We hadn't heard a word from Gemini since he ran away from the Intergalactic Police a month before, but we couldn't give up. My idea was proof of that.

Gemini was close to success the first time around. There was no telling how prepared he would be the next chance he got.

Soggy leaf litter sloshed under my soaking wet sneakers; my hair hung in little rat-tail like strands, pelting my face; and my un-gloved hands had grown numb.

Nevertheless, it was a blessing that there were no branches mercilessly whacking me in the face.

I made it to the cave: System's temporary home.

With the heavy rain clouds, it was rather dark outside. But since Friday, the last time I saw the cave, some new bright and colourful lava lamps had appeared in System's cave, illuminating the craggy walls with splashes of red, orange, pink, purple, blue, green, yellow, indigo... you name the colour and System had it.

System loved colour, as illustrated by the new supplies he had acquired around the cave.

I climbed up into the cave. The others were already there.

"Hey, Brooke," Luke said as I hauled myself over the little ledge that acted like a balcony: the entrance to the cave.

"What's up?" I replied. I was itching to tell everyone my idea, but I didn't want to let it just _burst_ out. I wanted to wait a few minutes, act normal and then lay it on them.

Robyn was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a book; Ned was lazing about in a beanbag, reading a newspaper; Luke was sitting, on the couch, doing his homework and Smithy was leaning against the cave wall, his head down.

"I was simply asking System if I should expect to see a report on flying hippos anytime soon," Ned answered me.

I rolled my eyes. Ned was the most annoying kid I had ever met.

Don't get me wrong: Ned and I were not enemies. I mean, we were the good guys, on the same team, even. We just... agreed to disagree. I think that's the best way to put it.

" _Ugh_ , Ned, do you even know how to be serious?"

"I was being highly serious, thank you very much," Ned replied, indignantly. "You remember a month back when we jumped into that artificial hippo lake?"

"No, I forgot," I said, sarcastically.

Ned blinked. "Well, we were at the zoo and—"

"Oh, just carry on, I know what you mean."

I knew Ned was pulling my leg when he laughed. "Anyway, all that outer space chemical... _what-evers_... poured out into the water. And I was reading in this newspaper—" Ned flapped a page of his newspaper in indication, "—that the zoo has been completed and all the animals have been introduced to their respective habitats, enclosures, whatever. So, that means the hippos are swimming around in that lake. So... my question stands: will the hippos get powers?"

If I had to be honest, I would have admitted: it was a good question.

But I tried not to be honest when I actually _agreed_ with Ned.

System's little skunk legs were flying up in the air, his top half stuffed into a toy box that held anything but dolls, cars and whistles, as he searched for some piece of technology I couldn't exactly put a name to. He tipped himself out, a little device that looked like a solar-charged calculator in his little skunk paws.

"No, allow me to explain," System said. I had to resist the urge to let out a high-pitched " _Aww_!" Seeing a skunk talk is so cute!

"The Amepips are specifically designed so that when their containment vial is opened, and as soon as any element from the outside seeps in, for example: oxygen or H2O, they will react immediately, which means they will become active. Then you will need a _Transfigglerater_ , or a _Pipanalizer_ , to—"

" _English_ , System, _English_." Ned had a terrible time concentrating in _human_ science, there was no way he could stay on track with _Systematic_ science.

"You can then get the powers," System said, sounding like a rocket scientist using small words to explain a complicated concept to a first grader: a concept he himself knew very well but the first grader would never comprehend. "But the Amepips are designed to only be active for a period of forty-eight hours so that there is no harm or risk of mutations later."

"So you guys factored in hippos when coming up with your chemical concoctions," Ned nodded, approvingly.

"No, actually, we didn't," System said, a little perplexed. "But if the Amepips were active for longer than that, or if they never became dormant, there could be a build up of chemical waste over a long period of time and that can cause—"

"Okay, okay, I get it: you guys are very environmentally inclined," Ned interrupted.

I was enjoying this exchange but I didn't really have anything worthwhile to add to it. I played my idea around in my head a couple of times, trying to think of a sensible way to express my thoughts.

I strode around the cave and examined a pink and purple lava lamp, placed in the centre of a round, polished wood coffee table.

System's cave didn't hold much when he first moved in: just a whole lot of computer bits and pieces. Now, though, it housed an old, soft, floral three-seater couch; an assortment of coffee tables, some broken and barely holding up, some looking almost brand new; a mini fridge; a blender and two microwaves. I found five new laptop computers, three stripped down to the bare components, two used for detecting alien signals in space and on Earth; a coffee machine; fifty odd lava lamps; an array of bean bags and a stack of books in one corner, courtesy of Robyn.

Most of the stuff System had around his cave had been found on the side of the road in the junk piles people made up, ready for the garbage trucks to take away.

I fell backwards into a beanbag and picked up a comic book lying on the ground next to it.

I was reading the words and examining the pictures but all I was thinking about was my new idea. How would the others take it? Could it work? There was only one way to find out...

Chapter Ten

"I have an idea," I said, my voice wavering with the anticipation.

"I'll make a card to commemorate the occasion," Ned mumbled.

I reached my arm across the room and smacked him on the side of the head. It wouldn't have hurt him: he was, after all, invincible.

"What's your idea?" Luke asked, sounding like a parent breaking up a feud between two kids. He got up off the couch and stood, leaning against the cave wall, crossing his arms.

"Well, I was thinking, yesterday, when Robyn and I saved that bus and we got swamped by journalists; they asked about a million questions. And our story got all over the news, all over the world—"

"Yeah, I saw the report on the seven o' clock news," Ned said. "You nearly let the bus fall... I saw."

I ignored him. "Just about everyone on this planet has heard that story by now," I continued. "Everyone knows heroes exist..."

"I'm not so sure that's a _good_ thing," Luke commented, frowning.

"Just hear me out. We all know how Gemini got away from the Intergalactic Police people and we know he's still out there, plotting his next scene to destroy humans. We need to find him. And, I'm pretty sure Gemini knows he has a band of superheroes after him... and I'd like to bet that he'd do almost anything to find us.

"Therefore, this is my idea: we draw Gemini out by getting into news headlines all over the world! Whenever there's a crime, we'll be first on the scene. Whenever there's a disaster, we'll be the first ones there. Whenever somebody shouts for help, we. Will. Be. There. And no one will ever know it's us because we've got our masks!"

Ned jumped up and clicked his fingers, indicating he had an idea, too. "Oh, and for extra security, we can come up with superhero names!"

"I don't know if that's such a fantastic idea..." Luke said. "We might draw Gemini _out_ but..." he trailed off, lost in thought. He frowned and crossed his arms again. He looked out the entrance to the cave and gazed at the tall trees.

I bit my lip, waiting to hear what Luke had to say. I doubted he liked the sound of my idea.

But it would work! Gemini would see or hear the reports easily: they'd be all over the news, television and radio everywhere he went. There was no way he could miss it.

And when he heard about heroes, he would immediately know it was those five kids who foiled his last plan to destroy the human race.

I didn't know exactly how Gemini would make himself known, but I was positive he would try to get rid of us. We were, after all, the biggest threat to his plans, whether he liked it or not.

It seemed as if everyone in the cave was holding their breath. (Okay, perhaps not everyone: System didn't follow _everything_ we humans went on about half the time.)

Luke started pacing, up and down, wearing in the cave floor.

I wanted him to like my idea. It wasn't often I worried about what others thought of me, but I considered it the greatest seal of approval if Luke Rosenhart liked my idea.

After an agonizing five minutes, everyone came to the conclusion that Luke needed more time to think this over. So, we stopped holding our breath and went back to our usual activities.

Robyn left her spot on the floor and took up residence on the sagging, floral couch. She stared at a comic book on the coffee table and concentrated, hard.

The book slowly, wonkily, lifted off the table. Suspended in mid air, no strings attached, it was a marvel to behold.

It slowly crawled through the air, as if an invisible hand was holding it in the air. It hovered for a second and then fell into Robyn's hands.

Ned was exercising his power, as well. He couldn't really exercise his invincibility, but his strength he could. He got off the beanbag he had been casually sprawled on and bent down by the floral couch. He placed his hands firmly underneath it and then, with a minimal amount of huffing and puffing, lifted it up. Robyn jerked and let out a yelp of surprise, which made nearly Ned lose his hold and drop the couch.

"Do you mind just staying still?" he said, his voice straining.

Robyn giggled: she was enjoying herself.

A transparent, glittery blue mist was left in place of where Smithy had been standing. He teleported from his shadow by the cave wall onto the couch, next to Robyn. The extra weight, even though it was minimal, was just a bit more than Ned could manage. His arms gave way and the couch came clattering down, but not before Smithy had grabbed Robyn's hand and teleported her to the other side of the room.

All that could be seen of Ned was his arms and legs, sticking out from under the couch, kicking and flapping around like a trapped spider.

Any normal kid would have suffered bruising, internal bleeding, and possibly some majorly damaged organs. But Ned was invincible and therefore remained unharmed.

Of course, his power did nothing to stop him getting annoyed.

"My life stinks!" came Ned's muffled grumbling.

I'll admit I laughed.

And I couldn't help myself: I snuck over, as if it mattered that Ned heard me, and jumped up onto the couch.

Ned groaned even louder.

"Get off, fatso, whoever you are!" he pleaded. "Pleeeaase!"

"Who you calling 'fatso'?"

"Brooke, I swear, as soon as I get out of here, I'll..."

"You'll do nothing, that's what you'll do," I smirked, though he couldn't see it.

Ned's legs and arms thrashed, kicked and went crazy. "Get off, I command you to leave this couch, Elastic Girl!"

I didn't like the name. So, even though I had been _considering_ leaving the couch, I had to stay.

"Okay, okay, break it up, children," Luke said. A smile he tried desperately to swallow appeared on his usually serious face.

Luke paused mid-pace, came over and shoved his arms into the couch. He reached in, grabbed Ned by the shirt collar and pulled Ned through the couch.

(I had no idea Luke could do that.)

Ned was giggling as if someone had tickled him with a packet of feathers. "Luke, bud, no offence, but I seriously don't like it when you pull me through stuff with you. It feels weird. Don't do it unless you really have to."

Sometimes, it seemed like everyone's powers were cooler than mine.

Sitting on the couch, I reached out my right arm and grabbed a can of soda on the other side of the room.

It's not a _bad_ power. I mean, I could have one of those terrible powers like super burp or something else gross.

And a lot of people wish they could stretch and reach things on the other side of the room. Mostly lazy people who just want to sit and watch TV and not get up but some busy people, too.

But molecular density control, mind reading, teleportation, shape shifting, strength... they all seemed a ton cooler because I didn't have them.

My power wasn't crummy. I knew it was useful and I tried to look on the bright side.

There were things about stretching that I had discovered and liked. It continued to amaze me how, when stretching, my clothes stretched with me.

I was tempted to ask System about it but I could barely keep up with his explanation of _Amepips_.

For about two hours, System fiddled around with the computers, laptops and other software and hardware that would make the greatest scientific minds in our world widen their eyes. He was scanning for alien signals, and had found none.

Luke, though, was still pacing up and down, holding his chin, thinking.

The suspense was killing me: I wished he would say something and either put down my idea or tell me he liked it.

Eventually, an exhausted Luke flopped down on the soft couch and yawned. It was getting darker outside by the minute. "I think it's time we started heading home," Luke announced, mid-yawn.

Well, when he started yawning, it set the rest of us off.

We all yawned in unison.

"But what about—?" I started but was interrupted.

System stopped fiddling with some computer guts and looked up at us. "Oh, I just remembered something," he said, shocked that he had forgotten.

"What?" Luke asked, nearly falling asleep.

System pulled out a small crate out from under the coffee table. He lifted off the lid and revealed a dozen watches of different makes, shapes and colours.

"Here," he said, simply.

"You raided the _Watches 'R' Us_ shop?" Ned quipped.

"No, I found these in huge containment vessels called 'Dumpsters'," System explained.

"Well, no offense, System, but I already have a watch," I said. I tapped the round, smooth face of my wristwatch in indication. "And this one works."

"Yes, granted, I'm sure you all have your own primitive time-telling devices—"

"Hey!" Ned exclaimed, indignantly crossing his arms.

"—but these have some... modifications."

"What modifications?" Luke asked, examining a watch that looked similar to his own.

"I combined primitive cellular phone technology with these time-telling devices so that you will be able to track each other."

"And tell me: how is that a good thing?" I asked.

System shrugged. "Don't you want to know where each other are at any given time?"

Ned poked the face of the watch he had strapped to his wrist. "Is there any way to turn this thing off?"

System picked up a smaller, pint-sized watch. Obviously, that was his watch.

"I also equipped each 'watch' with a Morse code transmitter. I believe this is a code all humans learn and understand..."

"I didn't," I said.

"Uh-uh, me neither," Luke agreed.

"Nada," Robyn pitched in.

"Come again?" Ned said.

Smithy, though, said nothing.

We all, slowly, turned to stare at him.

" _No_ , you don't _seriously_ know Morse code... do you?" Robyn shook her head, slowly, disbelievingly.

Smithy shrugged as if it were no big deal. "'Course I do."

"You are a guy of many mysteries," Robyn laughed, lightly.

"Sue me," he said.

Chapter Eleven

Before we left the cave, System handed each of us a sheet of paper printed with the Morse code alphabet.

If you have ever seen Morse code, you might know a little about how it operates. Morse code works with a series of dots (which make the short sound: dit), and dashes (which make the long sound: "dah"), jumbled up into about a hundred different combinations to create letters, numbers, even commas and full stops.

I'm not exactly great with codes and puzzles so I didn't know how I was ever going to get the hang of it.

I really hoped I never got into a situation where I would need the others to come in and rescue me because there was no way I could use the Morse code transmitter... thing... on my new watch.

Everyone left the cave and went their separate ways.

The country outskirts are miles from my home in suburbs.

But it was an easy walk along well-lit streets and smooth pavement.

Luke walked alongside me on the long haul home, deep in thought and short on conversation.

For as long as I could remember, Luke had lived across the road from me. His parents were friends with mine and we grew up together.

We used to ride our tricycles together, play in the park that resided in the middle of our street, climb trees and sometimes play in the old tree house in Luke's back yard.

But ever since my mother died and my father left... Luke's family hadn't had too much to do with Arthur and me. Every now and then, Mrs Rosenhart stopped by and asked if Arthur and I needed anything. Sometimes she baked a pie or a batch of cupcakes for us.

Luke and I were good friends. But we drifted apart as the years flew by and just gradually turned into casual friends. You know: the kind of friends that would wave if they happened to see each other, say "hi" in the hallway at school if they crossed paths, and maybe chat if they were stuck together somehow.

But we didn't go out of our way to hang out with each other, we didn't spend hours on the phone and our conversations were always light and to the point. And, although it was never said out-loud, they all carried an undertone of, "let's hurry this up so we can get out of here and go back to pretending each other didn't exist."

But since we got powers, met System and found out about Gemini, we spoke a whole lot more. We grew closer.

Although it may sound a little mushy, it was nice to have Luke back as a friend. I hated the way we tried to ignore each other in the past.

But Luke wasn't saying a word as we walked down the street. From years of hanging around Luke, I knew that that meant he was thinking. Deep.

"By the way, I never got your answer, chief," I said, shattering the silence.

Luke viewed it as downright criminal when any of us called him "chief," but it just rolled off the tongue so easily: it slipped right out before I could stop it.

"Don't call me... oh, forget it." Luke ran a hand through his fair hair. "I was just thinking about what you said at the cave. I mean, you're right; people aren't just going to leave us alone. Journalists, reporters, paparazzi... they'll stop at nothing to get a hold of a story like this. And Gemini _will_ see those headlines."

"Superheroes," I agreed. "A story like that would be bigger than Elvis dying, bigger than the artificial heart, bigger than... than man stepping foot on the moon! Of _course_ , Gemini would hear about it! We'd finally have him!"

Luke nodded. "That's exactly my point. I'm just worried that if we draw Gemini out, he could get the jump on us before we see him coming. We're new to this whole superhero thing. Who's to say we will get Gemini before he gets us? He's older, far more intelligent and an alien from another planet!"

He had a point.

"But, we've got System; he can detect just about every signal and radar transmission you can think of!" I argued. "System would find Gemini _long_ before he shows his face in public. And we have our disguises. Maybe Ned's right: superhero names aren't a bad idea."

"Gemini's smart," Luke said, reasonably. "He'll know how to cover up his tracks better than even System could detect. And this brings me to my next point: if we start coming up with names, if we answer journalists' questions... they wouldn't leave us alone. They'll want more. They always want more. Eventually, we'll slip up. They'll find out who we really are, they'll find out about aliens. It would make Gemini's job ten times easier if the world was in chaos and he knew the identities of the Upbeats. And you remember what Angela Spike said: humans are not ready to find out about aliens. It's an intergalactic law, even."

"And I know how you are with laws," I playfully nudged Luke on the arm. He smiled for a brief moment. "But we won't tell them about System, we won't let them even suspect we're just five ordinary kids."

Luke thought about it and slowly came to a halt. Automatically, I stopped walking, too. "Brooke, I can't let anyone on this planet, besides John McGill, find out that we've got powers. I don't want to think about how people will harass us, study us, or plaster our names on headlines... I just can't risk letting that happen. But I will never stop you from saving someone: that is something we have to do.... Still... it's not a good idea to search for the lime-light. Looking for trouble is something I strongly advise against."

He was right, of course. One thing I will say about Luke, he was almost always right. His logic was nearly impossible to argue with.

(But that wasn't going to stop me from trying.)

"But we need to find Gemini. If we don't try and draw him out, he could destroy us tomorrow and then it won't matter if anyone knows there are superheroes out there or not."

Luke nodded slowly. "Yeah... you're right."

"And I sincerely think it will work," I pressed on, unafraid. "Gemini wants to do this with as little trouble as possible. And we're a speed bump in his plans."

Luke nodded, again. "Well... how about this," he said, slowly, purposefully, "we carry on saving people, as superheroes do, and see if getting into newspapers and headlines will draw Gemini out. Okay?"

I grinned and hugged Luke. He didn't hug me back: he's far too stiff to concede to "hugging."

"See you tomorrow," I said. I ran the last few metres to my house and waltzed up the path to my front door as if music was playing, the whole neighbourhood was singing and there was a spotlight shinning on me.

I turned the lock, opened the door, stepped inside and shut the door behind me without another word.

I couldn't help grinning from ear to ear: Luke Rosenhart actually approved of my idea! Well, more or less, but, it was enough for me!

I headed for the stairs, feeling bright and cheered on, ready to get down to a tough math assignment, when a hand grabbed my arm, firmly.

If I had not realized it was just my brother, I would have screamed so loud, the neighbours would have come running.

I looked at my brother and concluded that he had gotten off work a few hours earlier than usual. Instead of his coat, scarf and smart shirt and pants, he wore jeans, socks, an old faded jersey I have been guilty of borrowing, and his hair was a mess.

"Where have you been, Brooke?" Arthur asked.

I shrugged, nonchalantly. "With Luke and the others," I answered, simply.

Arthur crossed his arms. "What 'others?'"

I sighed. "Luke, Robyn, Ned... some kid called Smithy.... Don't worry, they're good kids. Well, that's a lie: Ned, he's a pain in the butt."

"I hardly ever see you," Arthur said, inflicting as much guilt with his tone as he possibly could.

I felt two inches tall. "You see me all the time," I said, uselessly. It was unusual for my brother to act like this.

Arthur nodded. "You know, if you want to talk, I'm always here. I understand I'm not mom, but—"

Before I realized it, my feet stepped off the third stair, my hand left the railing and I stood on level ground with my brother.

"You're doing your best," I interrupted. "And I appreciate that more than anything else in the whole world."

That got a smile out of my big brother.

"So... what's for dinner?" I shrugged off my jacket, slipped it on a hook by the front door and set about removing my soggy shoes. "I'm starving."

"Oh, yeah," Arthur said as he grabbed me, pulled me up while I still had one shoe on, and started swing-dancing, 1950's style, headed for the kitchen. "I have been looking into the culinary arts and have conjured up a masterpiece!"

Okay, when your brother cooks for you and calls it a masterpiece, it's most likely going to be microwaved pizza, cold hamburgers or, possibly, stir-fry, if you've had time to train him.

It was none of the above.

(If my brother starred on a cooking reality show, the judges would be lost for words...)

In the kitchen, on the counter-top, displayed like dirty laundry on a round, white plate was a pile of tuna sandwiches.

(The presentation could have used some help.)

I tried to hide my disappointment. I found myself actually wishing for microwaved pizza.

I looked over at Arthur, who smiled like a proud two-year-old, bearing the trademark two-year-old gift of a sandy weed from the garden.

"Um... great. I was just in the mood for seafood," I said, politely. Arthur's smile widened.

I usually did the cooking. I was never a five-star master chef or anything, but I was creative.

Every now and then, and a lot lately: since I had been busy with all the Upbeat stuff, Arthur had been doing the cooking.

He said he was giving me a break and he said it as if he was doing me a big favour.

(I had to be more on the ball...)

After the quaint dinner, Arthur and I washed the dishes, Arthur washing and I on drying duty.

"So, how's school?" Arthur asked, conversationally.

"Fine," I said. "Mrs Higgins is still piling up English homework for the class."

Arthur laughed. "You know, she taught me, she taught dad and possibly even grandpa."

"And she will go on to teach my grandchildren," I said with a giggle. "You know she broke her wrist last month? It healed in three weeks."

Arthur's eyes widened. "What? No way!" his voice carried a strong tone of disbelief.

"I'm serious," I insisted.

With a raised eyebrow, Arthur looked at me, trying to decide if I were telling the truth or not. He eventually shrugged. "She's a tough old bird."

Arthur and I said nothing more. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but after a few minutes of clinking dishes and sloshing, soapy dishwater, I decided I wanted to break the silence.

Slyly scooping soap bubbles in my hand, I waited until Arthur wasn't looking and launched the soapsuds in my brother's direction.

The initial shock wore off, he flung some back and we both laughed like idiots.

The soap bubble war was on.

I think we eventually got the dishes done. I can't remember...

Chapter Twelve

Luke and I discussed our decision with the others when we met up at the cave after school on Tuesday.

Robyn said it might work, System agreed that it was most likely going to draw Gemini out, Smithy said nothing and Ned instantly started coming up with names for everyone.

So, it was official, we were going to get noticed!

♫

We had been on edge for days, just waiting for something to happen, eagerly anticipating our first call to duty.

The radio was on 24/7; our ears pricked and ready to respond to any cry for help we heard.

The only obstacle: Rockwell wasn't a crime hotspot. Criminals seemed to turn a blind eye on our city.

(Maybe that wasn't a bad thing...)

But we had to get noticed. Gemini had to find us so that we could find him.

In the mean time, we couldn't allow Gemini to ruin our lives completely: we had to act normal, keep a low profile and do all those normal, mundane things fourteen year olds across the globe did.

Moreover, in keeping true to that statement, I had to do my homework.

It was a Friday afternoon, three days since our resolution to respond to any emergency we heard about. We had decided not to meet up at the cave _every afternoon_ because we realized we weren't being of much use to System. We may as well as be doing our schoolwork, finishing our chores and getting on with our lives.

Therefore, I was struggling through algebra, sitting at my desk. Occasionally, when a question stumped me, I lifted my eyes and gazed out my window.

On a normal day, from my window, I could look straight into Luke's bedroom, had he not had his blinds closed on that particular day.

When Luke's blinds were closed, it meant he was out and about.

I was biting the eraser on the end of my pencil and running my hands through my hair, determined to get a good grade and make my brother happy.

The radio sitting on my desk was on, tuned into the local Rockwell City radio station, softly, so my brother downstairs wouldn't hear.

Having music, or anything else distracting, playing in the background is something you should never allow when you're studying: don't learn from my example.

I had my radio on in the hopes of hearing a report of a situation happening right at that moment. If I could be the first to hear it, I could be the first to respond.

I had been struggling for a whole hour to figure out what my x's, y's and z's were up to.

Afraid that if I went on any longer my head might explode, I put my pen down, stood up and started walking around my room, stretching out my legs.

Thunder rumbled in the sky, threatening to rain. A chilling breeze blew in through the window and I shivered. I leaned over my desk to close the window and absentmindedly turned the radio volume up.

Just as I did, a song was interrupted, abruptly, by the jingle for breaking news.

My heart started to race, my optimism peaking.

I readily sat down at my desk, listening intently. As the reporter introduced herself and explained where she was, I took a moment to tell myself not to get my hopes too high. It was most likely going to be an announcement for all residents to be aware of a powerful storm heading for Rockwell.

"I'm here at Rockwell City Mall where seven armed men are holding everyone in the shopping mall hostage," announced the reporter, sounding deadly serious. "Police are trying to negotiate with the men but the situation is 'as delicate as glass,' says the constable. The north, east, west and south entrances to the mall are each being guarded by an armed gunman. It is unknown what they are holding the hostages for, as they have not made any demands, as of yet. Local law enforcement officials are working on a way of safely getting all the hostages out but, as I have been informed, this situation is likely to continue for quite some time. It is advised that anyone near or planning to go to the mall should stay far away."

This was bad. I had been expecting a typical bank robbery or a cliché jewellery thief.

But this...?

All of a sudden, it didn't matter to me if Gemini heard about it or not. The Upbeats were the only ones who could get in there and save those people.

And that was exactly what we were going to do...

Chapter Thirteen

The watches System had given us, and the code we had each committed to memory, through much trial and error, came in handy.

As soon as the report was over, I immediately flipped up the clock face on my watch.

System had actually done a spectacular job on the watches. They looked like ordinary watches, the kind every person on the street wore. But, once you flipped the deceivingly normal looking watch-face up, you would find a little green screen, much like the ones in submarines, with six, little, red flashing dots in constant motion. The dots signified the other Upbeats, including me. I could see where everybody was at any moment!

And the little button on the side of the watch, the one you use to set the time, could be used as a Morse code transmitter if you pushed down enough.

Furiously, I started tapping the Morse code transmitter, a stream of dits and dahs blurting out and hopefully reaching the others.

I didn't wait for a reply; I wrote a note to Arthur and stuck it on my pillow, packed my disguise into my backpack, grabbed my jacket and climbed out my window, just in case Arthur stopped me before I got to the front door.

♫

Batman had the _Batmoblie_ , Superman flew to his rescue missions and Spiderman swung from building to building, shooting webs from his wrists.

What did I have?

A six-gear mountain bike.

I pedalled to the shopping district in the heart of Rockwell City. There are two major shopping malls in Rockwell: the Underground Mall and Rockwell City Mall.

The mall in question was the latter.

With my heart pounding and my mind racing, I sped towards the mall.

It started raining just as I got there. Thunder ripped through the atmosphere and lightning struck the earth. It was the kind of storm people are generally advised to stay indoors during.

But I had to get there.

When I got close, I realized just how an impossible mission it was going to be to get inside the mall.

Police cars parked _everywhere_ ; officers and detectives scattered about, discussing the situation, the tension clearly written all over their serious faces; and TV news crews standing around, interviewing anyone that appeared to know something.

Roadblocks had been put in place so that unsuspecting civilians, snoopy reporters and eager photographers did not wander in and get into trouble.

I was not a hero at that moment; I was still Brooke O'Mackey, girl from across the road. So the roadblocks did their job and kept me away from the area.

As I pulled on my brakes and grinded to a halt as close to the investigation team as possible, I saw my brother arrive on the scene.

He stopped in front of a roadblock, showed the officer on duty his badge and they moved the roadblock, momentarily, to let him drive through.

He parked his Ford in between two police cruisers and stepped out. He looked around, taking in the scene.

I didn't allow him to see me: instead, before he glanced my way, I snuck into an alleyway between two office buildings to don my disguise and cleverly plan my next move.

It didn't take me long to slip on my wig and plaster on my mask.

From my vantage point, I could see the large double storey mall, the mall car park, the police officers, the street and a direct path to the west entrance to the mall.

I couldn't go in just then: not on my own. I needed the rest of the team...

".-- .... . .-. ./ .- .-. ./ ..- ?" my watched bleeped. It was from Luke.

Relieved that the others had received my earlier messages, I quickly replied and told them where I was.

In a matter of seconds, Smithy teleported the rest of the gang, including System in his Kevin form, into the alleyway where I was hiding out. They were all wearing their masks and wigs, beanies or baseball caps.

"Did you guys hear the news?" I enquired.

Luke nodded. With his brow creased and his mouth straight: he looked at least twenty years older.

"So, what's the plan, then, Chief?" Ned asked. Instead of his enormous afro Robyn had bought for him a month ago, he sported a simple backwards baseball cap.

We huddled like a football team. I don't know why we did that: I guess it might have been to stop the police or anyone wandering past from eavesdropping on us.

"Okay, here's the deal," Luke said in a low voice. "We need to know what the situation is inside. There are seven gunman altogether. We know that four are posted at the entrances, so that leaves three unaccounted for. If my suspicions are correct, then the other three will be keeping an eye on the hostages, making sure none get away."

"So what do we do?" Robyn asked, sounding worried, not for herself, but for the innocent hostages.

"Smithy, I'm going to have to ask you to teleport Ned, System and me inside the mall."

"Got it," Smithy agreed.

"Ned, I'm going to need you to distract the three gunmen inside so Smithy can teleport the hostages out while I tie up the gunmen posted at the entrances."

"Distracting, annoying and in just in general irritating people is my specialty," Ned declared, proudly.

Luke turned to Kevin. "System, can you spray like normal skunks?"

"If a situation demands it," he replied, discreetly.

"Okay, well, this is the situation and I'm demanding it," Luke said. "I'll need you to help me. Spray the gunman, in the face, and while he's distracted... um, does your spray... you know... _stink_?" Luke asked it as if it would be embarrassing for System.

"Yes," Kevin replied, simply.

"Alright, then while the guy is distracted by the stench, I'll tie him up—"

"Have you got rope?" I interrupted.

Luke opened his mouth to say yes, thought about it and closed his mouth. "Okay, first we'll have to teleport into a hardware store," he clarified. "I'll get rope and then we commence our plan of action. Any questions?"

Robyn put up her hand. "What about me and Brooke? What do we do?"

Luke chewed his lip. "Look, no offence, but you are girls. And this is a dangerous situation. I don't know if we'll get out alright. But you're still part of this team: I'm putting you two on back up. You can come with us and help out if we need you, but just... you know... stay out of harm's way, okay?"

Why did he even bother to add: "no offence?"

I bristled. I was all ready to argue with him about the placing of Robyn and I on backup when he straightened up, ending the conversation.

"Okay, people, let's rock 'n' roll."

Chapter Fourteen

Smithy teleported all six of us into a small hardware store on the second floor of the mall.

He did that thing again, where, after he had teleported, he clutched at his chest, leaned against a wall, gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, as if he were in pain. I thought about saying something but he straightened up after a moment and pretended it had never happened.

Luke grabbed two packs of rolled up rope and, before exiting the store, placed the money for the rope on the counter.

"We're the good guys," he explained. "We _don't_ steal."

Then the boys set out to do their respective roles in saving the day while Robyn and I had to hang back, "out of harm's way."

The second floor of the mall was completely deserted. It was like a ghost town. All the little and big stores alike had their bright lights on with their displays sitting, readily, outside their open doors but there were no sales personal, no cashiers, no restocking staff and especially no customers.

Robyn and I wandered over to the escalators. They were still running, but no one was riding them, impatiently waiting to reach the bottom or top; no busy executives in a hurry, walking up/down the escalators, rushing to get to their destination; and no little kids trying to run up the going down escalator.

The area around the escalators was rather big, and we could easily peer beneath us at the situation on the second floor.

And... it helps when you've got a superpower like stretch.

My hands firmly gripping the cold, ceramic railing, I bent over the railing and stretched the length of my upper body to see underneath.

"How do you get your clothes to stretch _with_ you?" Robyn asked.

"I dunno," I replied, sounding a bit strangled.

The blood rushing to my head, I surveyed the scene beneath me.

It was the food court. But this food court didn't sport the standard scene of bustling people, scanning the packed court for a table; queuing to buy tacos, milkshakes or burgers; trying to figure out if they want special sauce or not; and some rowdy teenage boy trying to be funny by sticking straws up his nostrils.

Instead, men, women and children of all sizes, colours and ages were sitting on the floor, some hugging their knees to their chests, while three intimidating black-clad figures stood guard over them, guns held at the ready.

I estimated there were at least six hundred people altogether.

The tables and chairs had been thrown around, carelessly, and the hostages were rounded up in the middle of the cavernous room like cattle.

The little kids were crying, the teenagers were trying to be brave, the mothers were holding their children close to them for protection, the businessmen were checking their watches impatiently and one guy in a suit (he looked like a lawyer) was arguing with one of the gunmen standing guard over the vast group.

As I watched on, Smithy teleported into the middle of the crowd of people, crouching, with Ned by his side.

Teleporting is a quiet power. You don't hear a thing. You have no warning that someone is about to appear, except for a faint wisp of blue mist.

Smithy teleported right in front of a girl about our age. Her eyes widened and she was about to scream, but Smithy held a skinny finger up to his lips to indicate silence was needed. She closed her mouth and nodded, understandingly.

Ned crawled on his hands and knees through the crowds, whispering a "sorry" or "excuse me" to anyone he bumped.

A gunman saw Ned crawling towards him and aimed his gun, just in case this cocky kid was intent on causing complications.

Ned stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

Intrigued, I stretched a little closer to hear the conversation.

Ned stepped up to the gunman. He looked him right in the eye as if challenging him, put his head down and then proceeded to step around the armed man.

Knowing now for sure that his kid meant trouble, the gunman spun around with his gun at the ready.

The audience gasped when they heard the safety catch click. They were concerned for this kid but there was no trace of concern on Ned's face: only a wicked grin.

"What do you want?" the gunman asked Ned in a deep voice.

"I was gonna find a mop. Or maybe you could mop the floor. It's seriously dirty there!" Ned spoke with such conviction, actors everywhere would've _killed_ to get lessons from him. But Ned's determination and ease was not taught: it was the trademark confidence that comes with a power like invincibility.

"What? Really? _That's_ what you're worried about, kid?" The gunman, realizing Ned was nothing more than an annoyance, dropped his hands for a moment and shook his head. "You're nuts. Get back in there and keep quiet."

Ned stood his ground. "Not until you mop this place," he demanded.

The gunman grabbed Ned, roughly, by the collar, turned him around and gave him a mean shove. Ned fell flat on his back.

The gunman laughed, sadistically. "Why do you wear the mask? You're not much of a superhero, you know."

A corner of Ned's mouth lifted, mischievously. "Oh, I'm not?"

The gunman thought it was funny... for now....

Ned bounced back to his feet and ran for the exit, sprinting like an Olympian.

"Huh? What?" the gunman was stunned. Why was this kid so insistent?

He soon recovered, raised his gun and shot without further thought.

The loud bang echoed through the entire mall.

The crowd of hostages gasped and turned away, unable to watch the horrific sight.

But the bullet just ricocheted off Ned's back like a trampoline.

The gunman's eyes grew wide and he stared at his gun, as if it were broken. He gave it a shake, like he was getting water out, and aimed again.

Ned turned around, another wicked grin on his face.

The gunman pulled the trigger but, once again, the bullet just bounced off Ned's chest, leaving the annoying kid without even a scratch.

The gunman, realizing his gun was not working out, dropped the usually deadly weapon and ran at Ned.

He tried to tackle Ned to the ground but Ned was practically glued to the floor. He stood upright and it seemed as if nothing, not even a fierce hurricane, could knock him over.

The other gunmen left their posts and ran over to help their fellow criminal in bringing this maddening kid to his knees.

But, try as they might, they didn't succeed. Ned was impossible to tackle.

They, too, tried shooting him but their bullets were as affective as their friend's had been. They didn't even make him _flinch_.

Chapter Fifteen

I stretched back and laughed.

Robyn, on the other hand, looked anxious. "What were those gun shots?" she asked.

"They shot at Ned. Don't worry: he's invincible."

Robyn was instantly relieved. "I know, I know. How's Smithy doing? Is he getting the hostages out?"

"I'll take a look," I said. I reaffirmed my grip on the railing and tipped forward. I stretched out and weaved my way along the ceiling, winding around a batch of lights and veering around cobwebs, until I had the best view of the food court beneath me.

Smithy teleported next to two small, scared children. He smiled, kindly, to let them know he didn't mean them any harm and held a finger up to his lips to signal silence.

The little kids must have been separated from their parents. The boy, he looked like he was about six, and his sister, who could only be about two or three, recoiled with fear when Smithy arrived. The boy hugged his sister, tightly, in an attempt to protect her.

Smithy realized the two little kids were frightened to death and came up with a plan.

He looked around to see if anyone was watching him. When he was sure no one was looking his way, he took off his black mask and beanie to reassure the little kids that he was the good guy: a bad guy wouldn't bother to, nor want to, show anyone who he really was.

Smithy held out his hand to the little girl. She was tiny, with sad little blue eyes and a mass of brown curls. She looked into Smithy's eyes and took his hand, her little heart full of trust.

In the blink of an eye, Smithy, the boy and his little sister, were gone, a silvery blue mist left in their place.

I stretched back to Robyn.

"Well? How is Smithy?" Robyn enquired, sounding terribly nervous.

"He's a hero," I responded, stunned.

Now, I know what I said at the outset: I didn't trust Smithy. I knew nothing about him.

But... seeing him save two little kids? That look of utter trust in that little girl's eyes? The way he reassured them by taking off his mask, something I probably wouldn't have done, had I been in his place?

He was a hero. He was an Upbeat.

And I was proud, for that moment, to have him as my teammate.

"I wonder how Luke is going with tying up those gunmen at the entrances..." I commented.

Robyn shrugged. "I can try calling him."

I looked at her as if she were nuts. "The ringtone will alert the gunman—what if Luke is trying to sneak up on him, silently?"

Robyn shook her head and giggled. She tapped her right temple. "I wasn't going to us a phone," she corrected me.

"Oh," I said, feeling like an idiot.

Robyn closed her eyes and concentrated. I leaned closer, like you do when trying to listen in on a telephone conversation.

Robyn opened her eyes after a minute and frowned. "No reply," she said. "It felt like talking to a brick wall."

"Maybe you weren't doing it right," I suggested.

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Brooke, I've read minds before. I know how it feels when someone is listening. You just know that your thoughts are getting across. But right now... I don't know. Something's up."

"I wonder what could be going on," I mused.

Robyn started pacing, up and down, just like Luke. "Would you mind checking up on him?"

I crossed my arms, sourly. "I'm a girl, remember? I could get hurt."

"Are you seriously going to hold onto that? Luke was just worried about us. This is real and this is dangerous. This isn't a game."

"But he didn't leave you and I behind on our first mission," I argued. "So I don't see why he had to leave us behind on this one."

"Luke was just thinking about us," Robyn said, softly. "He has to think of all his team members and he knows that this situation is serious. He wants as few casualties as possible."

I nodded. "Fine, I'll find him."

Chapter Sixteen

I could have stretched myself around the entire mall, poked my head around corners and see if I could find Luke.

Instead, I did the simple old-fashioned "track them using the tracking device on your watch equipped with alien technology and _walk_ to them" trick.

(No one would ever see it coming...)

Luke's watch was telling me he was near the west entrance. No one noticed me, so I snuck down the escalator and just walked _straight_ _past_ the gunmen who were still trying to tackle Ned to the ground, past the hostages and on towards the entrance.

I did not run: there was no point in hurrying. Ned was doing his job of distracting the gunmen, Smithy was teleporting the hostages out and I was pretty sure Luke was getting on well enough with his mission of tying up the gunmen at the doors.

I strolled past the empty shops, inspecting their displays, until I reached the west entrance.

I had been quite calm up until then, but the feeling ebbed away when I saw my fearless leader, unconscious and propped up against the wall, his hands tied in front of him and his ankles bound with the very rope he had purchased.

System, in his natural skunk form, was tied up, too, but he wasn't unconscious. He had been tossed onto Luke's lap, carelessly. When he saw me coming, he started squirming, trying to get back on his feet.

I dropped to my knees and started untying System, furiously.

But he kept trying to pull away. "Hold still," I hissed at him. I undid the knot of rope around his little mouth so he could tell me what he wanted.

"Behind you!" he shouted.

I spun around, on my hands and knees, and looked up, only to see the ugliest, biggest, roughest, most real-life gunman I had ever seen in my life!

(Okay, to be fair, I didn't know if he was ugly: he had a balaclava covering his face: but he was BIG!)

And he had a gun pointing straight at me...

"Um, hi," I said.

He let go of the safety.

It seemed as if everything just rolled downhill from there. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the mayhem unfold.

Smithy stopped teleporting hostages out and collapsed from sheer exhaustion. A few hostages bent down next to him, trying to revive him.

Ned was failing in his attempt to distract the three gunmen.

Instead of getting ticked off, they started coming up with more effective ways to get rid of him.

Somehow, one of them got hold of knockout gas and sprayed it in Ned's face.

Ned, as soon as the mist hit his flesh, coughed and waved a hand in front of his face, blinking his eyes like crazy.

"Ha!" he said, courageously. "Your knock-out gas is no match for—"

He may have been invincible, but the knock-out gas still did its job: he staggered, swayed and fell to the ground with a lack of grace. He crashed like a sack of potatoes.

(My hero.)

I looked up and saw Robyn leaning over the railing on the second storey. Her eyes were so wide; they looked like something out of a cartoon.

<Robyn, Luke put us on back-up,> I thought out loud to my friend. <So now, it's time for us to back them up!>

I saw her smile. <I hear you, loud and clear,> she replied.

"Well?" the gunman pointing a gun in my direction said. "Aren't you going to explain yourself?"

I shrugged. "What do you want to hear?" I asked. I don't know why but I felt braver than a lion at that moment. I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. Not really. I've never been the kind of person who got scared easily.

I figured out why I didn't always concentrate in school so well. It was because it wasn't dangerous enough. My mind focussed better when the situation was dire.

I didn't really know it then but I would soon discover in my life that most criminals have a hair-trigger temper: it doesn't take them long to get angry.

This guy had the shortest one I had ever come across.

Staring down the cold, metallic barrel of the gun, the gunman all ready to pull the trigger, I wasn't scared. I had complete faith in my friends.

The thug said nothing, didn't laugh as I thought all criminals did. He was going to shoot.

But, all of a sudden, the gun floated up out of his hands, drifted through the air, carried along by an invisible hand, and dumped itself in a trash can, no questions asked.

(Knowing my friend, she purposely dumped it in the recycle bin.)

Another thing about criminals: it doesn't take much to spook them.

The thug took a shaky step backwards. Underneath his balaclava, you could see his mouth opening and closing in bewilderment.

I stood up; hoping the gun moving on its own would have been enough to paralyze the thug completely.

It wasn't, though. In a few seconds, he had recovered and pulled a knife out of nowhere (probably his shoe.)

Shocked bewilderment transformed into boiling anger. He wasted no time in lunging towards me, ready to take me out.

I didn't want to hurt the guy. Like Luke said: we were the good guys. If we went around hurting people, even the real bad guys, we were no better than they were. And there were other ways to stop a criminal, as I shall demonstrate.

Fast as a whip, I stretched out my leg, positioned it in front of his running feet and tripped him up. He fell spectacularly, but didn't hit the ground.

Instead, the invisible hand that had thrown away the gun came to his rescue... so to speak.

Robyn manoeuvred the thug (who yelled and screamed the whole way) through the mall, over the hostages and onto the going down escalator.

While still holding the thug in mid-air, Robyn switched off the escalator, manually pushing the button, and, softly, placed the criminal on the stationary black steps.

As soon as his backside touched the safety of the steps, he immediately began scrambling to his feet and running down.

His accomplices, the three gunmen that had been guarding the hostages and taking out Ned, rushed to their pal's side.

Frantically, I searched the mall floor, (which, by the way, Ned was correct: it was filthy), looking for the knockout gas they had used on my fellow superhero.

I found it lying, unattended, beside a food court table. It was a simple little metallic can. I ran towards it and elongated my arm a few extra inches to grab it and save a few precious seconds.

Once it was in my grasp, I ran towards the escalator.

<Robyn, catch!> I yelled and threw the can like a basketball through the air.

It arched over the heads of the hostages, who held their breath and followed its arc with their eyes.

(Oh, if only my coach could have _seen_ it!)

Robyn held out her hand and it fell, perfectly, into the palm of her hand.

(In hindsight, I can't help but wonder if Robyn didn't use her power to make the can fall faultlessly into her grasp.)

Robyn leaned over the rail and saw the four gunmen had reached the bottom of the escalator. She gasped and thought fast.

You know how, some times in the year, malls have those ridiculously huge and boldly coloured ribbons laced around the framework of the ceiling?

Well, I could just be thankful that this crazy event happened during one of those times of year.

Robyn caught sight of the thick, bright purple ribbon. She took a few steps backwards, braced and psyched herself up, and ran for it. She jumped over the railing, like a gymnast, flew through the air like a sugar glider, and reached out for the ribbon.

It was something I thought I would never see my shy, scared friend do. This was totally unlike Robyn Diaz.

Everyone watching the spectacle experienced the unsettling feeling of their hearts skipping a number of beats.

For a moment, it almost looked like Robyn wouldn't make it. Time slowed down and it didn't look like this was going to be the day for the Upbeats.

But, someone had to be on our side, because Robyn successfully grabbed hold of the ribbon.

The unexpected weight caused the staples holding the ribbon in place to buckle. The ribbon, with Robyn holding on for dear life, swung like a pendulum.

Before the ribbon reached the bottom of its swing, she leapt off, landed like a gymnast at the Olympics on the ground floor and darted towards the gunmen who had been trying to escape.

I ran up to Robyn but before I could reach her, she had sprayed the bad guys in the face with the knockout gas.

They fell to the ground, their landing softened by the ribbon Robyn had swung from.

I slowed down and walked, leisurely, towards my friend.

She stood, satisfied and accomplished, hands on hips. She nudged one of the big, ugly, scary and about-to-go-to-prison thugs, gently with her shoe.

The four of them snored, peacefully, wrapped up in a soft, silky, purple ribbon.

"Aw, don't you just love them when they're asleep?" I commented.

Chapter Seventeen

I walked over to the pile of Ned on the floor and gave him a gentle shake. "Ned," I said in a soft, motherly tone. He didn't stir. I decided I might need to take a different approach. "WAKE UP!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Ned woke with a start. "Huh? What happened? What did I miss?" His eyes wide, he jumped up into a "ready for anything" pose.

I patted him on the shoulder. "It's over, bud," I told him. "And, yes, we won."

Smithy, who was completely spent and had been lying propped up against a wall throughout the whole daring rescue, recovered slightly and got to his feet. Robyn shot to his side and instantly started asking him if he were all right, checking his temperature just like her mother would have done, had she been there.

I squatted down beside Luke and undid the knots tying him down. He opened his eyes and groaned. I helped him to his feet and he held a hand to the back of his head where he had obviously taken the blow. "I feel like an elephant danced on my head," he moaned.

"Let's be glad it wasn't an elephant," I commented.

The five of us stood as a team. And before we knew it, the hostages were cheering for us, clapping their hands, shouting their thanks and whistling like the members of an audience at a rock concert.

System waddled over and joined us. I noticed he still had his little legs tied together and realized that that was probably why he couldn't have helped us out in our daring rescue.

I quickly bent over and unfastened the rope. It wasn't hard: the thugs weren't boy scouts.

One of the hostages came up to us: a kind of fat, dishevelled, untidy guy with thick, dark stubble residing on his many chins and a scruffy fedora with a PRESS pass stuffed into the band. (I suspected the pass was a fake, though.) He had a good quality DSLR camera hanging from a scuffed leather strap around his neck. He held the camera up and flash! He took a photo of the six of us, smiling triumphantly.

(If only he knew that those smiles were really just the smiles of five scared kids who had somehow managed to save the lives of hundreds with the help of superpowers even they didn't yet understand.)

He extended a chubby hand and Luke shook it. He was far too mature to let the opportunity for a handshake to pass him by.

"The name's Badger," he introduced himself. "I'm paparazzi. Free-lance. I'm not going to harass you guys: I just want to know something. What do you call yourselves?"

"The Upbeats," Luke answered Badger.

Badger whipped a note pad, as dishevelled as he was, out of his pocket and wrote it down. "Great, cool, fantastic," he said. "But what I really meant was: what do you call yourselves. Like what do you call yourself, little missy?" he asked Robyn.

Robyn froze. "You... you want to know my... my name?"

Badger laughed. "No, not your _real_ name, anyway. I don't want to be the one who discovers who the Upbeats are. That is something I will let someone else far less fortunate than I discover. No, I want to know what you call yourselves, as in, your hero names."

Luke frowned. "We don't have hero names..." he trailed off.

Ned coughed and cleared his throat. "What my friend here _means_ is, of course we have names. He's just a little bit too modest to say we're _'heroes_.'"

Luke glared at his "friend." He looked like he was two moments away from slapping Ned.

Ned didn't see the look or else he chose to ignore it. He squared his shoulders and was all ready to start giving his teammates their official names.

I wrapped my arm around Ned's and dragged him off to a quiet corner of the mall.

" _Uno_ _momento_ ," Robyn said, discreetly.

The others followed Ned and me.

"Ned, what are you doing?" I hissed.

"Giving us names," he said. He frowned. "What, you'll let Twig here—" he gestured to Smithy, "—name the whole team but you won't let me name the individuals? Don't you trust me?"

"In answer to your question, no," Luke said, flatly. "Because I just know you're going to give me something really dumb like Dense or Solid."

Ned was about to protest but assumed a look of deep thought. "Dense... that's a good one, Luke. Dense... I like the sound of it..."

Luke slapped his forehead. "Well, I don't," he said.

"FYI, I wasn't going to call you Solid or Dense," Ned said, crossing his arms. "I was going to call you Tripp."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because Luke discovered his power when he tripped into the lockers at school and went straight through them," Ned explained.

Though I tried to find fault with it, I had to admit that it was actually rather thoughtful of Ned.

"Well, what were you going to call me?" I asked, eagerly.

He smiled. "The Human Rubber Band."

I punched his arm.

He laughed. "Okay, I was going to say Taffy. You know: because you stretch like taffy and I happen to know you like taffy."

"Not bad..." I conceded.

Robyn looked over at Smithy. "I'd call you Blink," she said, shyly. "Because you come and go in the blink of an eye."

Smithy smiled, appreciatively. "I like it," he said. "And you should be Dream, because you're... you know..."

"You can control _anything_ and read people's minds, but you never do it to hurt them: you're too nice for that," Ned finished.

"And what are you, Ned?" I asked.

"Flicker," he said. He grinned, far too satisfied with himself.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Why Flicker?"

"Well, you know how my super strength flickers in and out the whole time?"

"Oh, so now _that's_ your excuse—" I started.

"Whatever: we've got names. And System, well, no one is going to find you out. We'll just stick to System, for simplicity sake," Luke said.

"So, let's go tell Badger," I proposed.

We walked back to Badger, who was fiddling with his pencil, waiting for us to return.

He brightened up when he saw us coming and resumed his air of master free-lance paparazzi photographer.

"So? What are your names?" he asked, eagerly, his pencil poised.

We exchanged glances and nodded, reassuringly, to one another.

"Tripp," Luke said.

"Dream," Robyn said.

"Blink," Smithy said.

"Taffy," I said.

"Flicker," Ned said, striking a pose.

"System," System said.

Badger wrote it down as fast as lightning, his pencil running along the paper and his sentences punctuated with great emphasis.

He looked up and grinned at us. "Nice names," he commented.

"Thank you," Robyn said, sweetly.

Badger fished around in his shirt pocket for something. He produced an untidy business card and handed it to Luke, who held it between two fingers like it was a dirty sock.

"Whenever you want me to sneak around, find something out, find some dirt on someone, take a photo of anyone doing most anything or you just wanna chat: look me up."

"Um, thanks," Luke said. "But why are you...?"

Badger laughed like he couldn't believe us. "Are you kidding me? I love you guys! You just saved everyone in this mall, brought down a gang of notorious felons and gave me first dibs on the story! I owe you guys big time. You can, from now on, consider me your personal snitch."

Chapter Eighteen

It was late when I got home.

In all the excitement, we forgot about the other three criminals and had to bring them down. It went a lot quicker because we worked together (and no one was on back-up.)

Then the Upbeats were swamped by journalists, reporters and paparazzi unlike the friendly Badger we met.

Then we had to hand the criminals (most asleep) over to the police, go over the whole thing about a thousand times and figure out how to slip away without anyone seeing Tripp, Taffy, Flicker, Blink and Dream transform back into Luke, Brooke, Ned, Smithy and Robyn: five ordinary kids from Rockwell High School.

Our opportunity came when a brief pause occurred between journalists shoving microphones in our faces and photographers flashing their cameras in our eyes. For a single moment, no one was looking our way and Smithy managed to teleport us away from there.

♫

I got home before Arthur, which was a bonus as I could quickly rush up to my room, climb into bed and pretend to be asleep before my brother came home and inevitably checked in on me.

I was exhausted from the day. I was just glad it had worked out all right.

And I couldn't care less if Gemini heard the report or not: it didn't matter anymore. We had saved those people and brought a gang of (apparently) notorious criminals to their knees.

Well, now that _that_ was over, I could sleep peacefully until the Upbeats' next call to duty.

♫

For two weeks, the Upbeats responded to every cry of help, every report of burglary, every disaster and every crime we managed to hear about within a two hundred mile radius.

We became quite famous, actually.

And it was great, saving the day with my friends by my side.

We saved many people who probably wouldn't have stood a fair chance had we not swooped in and saved the day.

The only thing that managed to put a damper on our heroics was... Gemini didn't turn up.

Maybe he was too smart for us and knew what we were up to or he was lurking in the shadows, biding his time.

But it was enough to discourage us. We had been bending over backwards to get into the news and Gemini still hadn't surfaced.

We couldn't let it take over our lives, though. We still had to be normal kids in a normal town doing completely normal stuff.

(So school, chores and homework remained mandatory.)

Eventually, the calls of help started to ease up a little. You go through times like that when all the bad guys decide to take a bit of a holiday for a while and the good guys can relax ever so slightly.

"So, what's the plan of action today?" Ned asked as the six of us hung around the cave early one frosty Saturday morning.

Luke ran a hand through his hair. "Well... I've been thinking... it _is_ a Saturday, we _are_ a bunch of kids, and the Annual Rockwell Well Foundation Anniversary Festival _is_ in town..."

Ned's eyebrows shot up. "Well, well, well..." he quipped.

"Don't use that joke around me again," I warned. "It's just too sad and I expect better from you."

"I just think we should relax a little. Gemini isn't going to show anytime soon, System hasn't read any signals and we're wearing ourselves into the ground," Luke explained. "We're just a bunch of fourteen-year-olds... and a skunk from outer space. We need to goof off a little."

Ned stuck a finger in his ear and pretended to be cleaning it out. "Did I hear you right? You, Luke: the forty-one year old trapped in a fourteen year old body, the kill-joy to end all kill-joys, the—"

"Say 'wet blanket' and I'm pulling you through the couch again," Luke cautioned.

"What I _mean_ is: you do understand what the Well Foundation Anniversary means, right? It means rollercoasters, candyfloss, a ridiculous 'Well' themed parade, fireworks, an outdoor concert, costumed street performers, water slides, Ferris wheels, clowns, bouncy castles (for little kids, of course) and just overall: fun. You know what fun is, right?"

Luke cocked an eyebrow at his friend. "I know what it is, Flick."

"Ahem, it is Flicker, not _Flick_ ," Ned corrected.

"I just thought it might be a good idea to go together. Besides, I have to take Jemima; Mom's paying me ten bucks."

"Glad to see bribery isn't dead," I said.

Robyn squeaked. "That's really sweet of you, Luke. Come on, gang, it'll be fun."

"Oh, I'm going," I said. "Don't think for a moment I'd pass up an opportunity to see Ned on the Terminator."

"Before we head off," Robyn said, standing up and stretching like she was getting ready to swim the 400 metres, "I just need to go and find my piggy bank: I seem to have misplaced it again."

"Is System coming, too?" Smithy asked, speaking for the first time.

Luke looked over at the small skunk fiddling with an old brick phone. "Yeah, we just gotta make sure we dress him. Remember: he likes his colour."

Chapter Nineteen

It was late afternoon. The sun was getting ready to set, casting a vibrant orange glow over the Rockwell City showgrounds where the Well Anniversary Festival was set up.

It was an exceptionally warm winter afternoon and people were happily braving the chilly water slides.

Loud electronic, alternative and modern rock music blasted from enormous speakers, at top volume, vibrating through the ground and making everyone's pulse fall into sync.

The screams of crazy teenagers (and terrified parents) on the fast paced rides filled the air along with the loud chatter that always accompanies large crowds.

There aren't many things in this world as colourful as a festival.

The band hadn't arrived yet. They were set to perform at eight o' clock that night, just before the fireworks.

The seven of us, Jemima included, strolled around the showgrounds together. System, in his Kevin form, was fitting in perfectly as a fourteen year old. He wore just a simple yellow T-shirt with some logo printed across the back, plain jeans and sneakers. His mousy brown hair was not too neat but not too messy, either. He looked completely normal.

This was System's first festival on Earth and his human hazel eyes clearly sparkled with delight: he was enjoying every minute of it.

"Hey, Luke? Can I please get a balloon?" Jemima asked, sweetly. She was six years old, petite with shiny blue eyes, blonde hair like her brothers and the cutest smile.

Luke was holding his little sister's hand, keeping her close to his side. She was smiling, enjoying hanging out with her big brother's friends.

Luke looked around, searching the mass of noisy people and festival volunteers, looking for a guy selling balloons.

"Here you go," Ned said, handing Jemima a red and white polka dot balloon.

Jemima accepted the balloon, gratefully. Luke bent down on his knees and tied the balloon on Jemima's bracelet so that it wouldn't fly away.

I nudged Ned with my elbow. "Don't think for a moment that I didn't see you snatch that balloon from a tree only two seconds ago," I told him, leaning close so Jemima didn't hear.

Ned shrugged, innocently. "I cannot believe you'd suggest such a... okay, yes, it was in a tree. Honestly, what? Are you seriously going to pay a dollar for a dumb balloon that's going to lose all its helium tomorrow when you can simply get one out of a tree?"

"Cheap skate," I muttered in his direction. Jemima, though, was satisfied with her balloon.

We walked past the water rollercoaster, the Tunnel of Terror, the Terminator and the Ferris wheel. Queues of people stood waiting outside the gates of each ride.

"Oh, _sweet_!" Ned exclaimed, stopping outside the Terminator as a batch of sick looking teenagers stepped off, unsteadily wavering as they headed for the toilet block. "Now that I'm invincible, I so want to go on this thing."

Kevin tilted his head, observing the colourfully painted ride. "What does this recreation contraption accomplish?" he asked.

"The Terminator goes up, down, sideways, and spins... mostly at the same time," Luke explained. "It's purpose? To make you so disoriented, you no longer know which way is up."

Kevin took a step back in disgust. "I thought humans were past torturing," he practically spat. The look of absolute abhorrence and repulsion on Kevin's face was almost funny.

"It's for fun," Smithy said. "It's not torture. You go on, get tossed around like a rag doll, scream a little and then get off and head for the porta-loos as fast as your shaking legs can run."

"Why do teenagers love dumb rides like that?" I asked.

Luke, Ned and Smithy shrugged. "It's the thrill of it," Luke said.

"And I think we're idiots," Ned added.

"Well, I don't want to go on it," Jemima said, sternly.

"You can't go on it, anyway," Luke pointed out. "You're too small."

Beside the entrance gates to the ride stood a tall, cardboard, cartoon tiger, smiling, with his paw extended over a long, oversized ruler. He was the "You must be this tall..." guy.

Jemima let go of her brother's protective hand, walked up to the cartoon tiger and checked her height, just to make sure she was short enough not to ride the Terminator.

Her height was so far under the limit, it was funny, but Jemima looked relieved.

"Brooke and I can take Jemima on the Ferris Wheel," Robyn offered, extending her hand to Jemima. Jemima skipped over and took Robyn's hand in her left and mine in her right. "You boys can go ahead and introduce Kevin to the Terminator."

They didn't waste time arguing. "Have fun!" Luke called after us as we headed for the Ferris wheel.

"Don't have too much fun," I called as they hopped in line.

Ned looked over his shoulder at us. "I think we both know who's going to have more fun."

Chapter Twenty

The queue for the Ferris wheel was much shorter than the queue for the Terminator. The queue consisted of young families, smaller kids and couples smiling mushily at each other.

We stepped into a swinging carriage long before Luke, Smithy, Ned and Kevin even reached the ticket box for their ride.

The noise of the fairground faded the higher and further we got from the ground.

I found it calming just gently swinging as the oversized wheel slowly rotated, taking us higher, giving us the best view of the fairgrounds and further.

The sun had sunk well below the horizon and night had fallen.

The carriage was mostly glass, enabling the rider to have the optimum view. Looking up, I could see the stars sparkling and down below I could see the people, who transformed from a few feet tall to the size of ants as our carriage paused at the top of the wheel.

I could barely see the faces of the people. From up there, the crowd looked like one pulsing vein, running smoothly to and from their destinations.

"It's beautiful," Robyn commented, smiling as she surveyed the bright lights of Rockwell city and the fairgrounds shining like technicolour stars.

With a soft jerk, the Ferris wheel started turning again.

As we got closer to the ground, the faces of the people became clearer and more detailed.

I could pick out some people I recognized: neighbours, teachers, local storeowners and kids I went to school with. My eyes didn't focus on any of them. Instead, they darted around the show, searching for the Terminator.

The boys had just climbed on, taken their seats and the safety restraints lowered. The ride started slowly, as if teasing them. It swung a little and turned, slowly, around. Then it stopped, as if it were malfunctioning.

But before too long, it started up again, only this time, its intentions had changed from taunting and teasing to throwing the passengers around like rag-dolls.

Even from way up high, I could see the look of absolute terror on Ned's face. I wished I'd had a camera.

I was laughing so hard, I made the carriage rock. "Do you think Ned will survive?" I asked.

Robyn shrugged. <He may be invincible but I don't know,> she said in her mind. Jemima didn't have a clue about her brother's friends being heroes.

But my delight over my friend's suffering was short lived. From my vantage point, I could see just about everyone in the crowd and one face stood out among the rest.

I sat up straight and pressed my face up against the glass to get a better look.

I had seen the face only once before, a face I had wanted to see but at the same time had been dreading.

It meant there was trouble ahead.

It meant the moment this carriage stopped at ground level, I was going to hit the ground running.

It meant I was going to get home late tonight.

"Gemini," I said under my breath without even thinking. He was walking through the crowds, roughly pushing people out of his way, followed by his henchmen dressed in their mock SWAT uniforms.

"Who?" Jemima asked as she gazed out at the crowds, trying to see what I had seen.

I coughed. "Oh, no one," I answered. I caught Robyn's eye, she knew what I was thinking and she knew what I had seen.

It took forever for our carriage to reach the bottom of the wheel. When our door opened up automatically, Robyn and I grabbed Jemima and shot out of there faster than lightning.

With Jemima practically flying behind us as we ran through the sea of people, we frantically searched for a place to put on our disguises.

"Hey, Jemima, Brooke and I have to, um, meet someone," Robyn explained, bending down so she was eye level with the sweet little girl.

Jemima shrugged. "Okay, so are you going to make me wait outside the Terminator for Luke?"

Robyn bit her lip. "No, um, actually Luke has to meet them with us..."

I searched the crowd for a person I could rely on to watch over Jemima for a few hours while we went and sorted out Gemini.

I groaned when the only person I could recognize was Sabrina Ride.

She didn't see me and was walking away. Reacting rather than thinking, I reached out and quickly grabbed her, yanking her towards Robyn and me.

"Hi," she said, bubbly as ever. She pushed her glasses further up her nose. "Isn't this festival great?"

She looked like a typical teenager enjoying the festival. She had a box of popcorn in one hand, her camera slung around her neck, her wavy brown hair tied up in a high ponytail and she was wearing a hooded jumper with the slogan for the festival printed across the front.

"Look, um, we're a little busy at the moment and we need someone to look after Jemima for a couple of hours," Robyn explained, getting a little impatient to get moving.

Sabrina smiled at Jemima. "Oh, Luke's little sister. Sure, I'd be more than happy to watch Jemima. I have a little sister of my own, you know. She—"

"That's great, Sabrina," I cut her off before she could relate her whole life's history. "We'll be back soon, Jem."

At that, Robyn and I raced to the toilet block, tying our hair up in preparation for the wigs before we even reached a stall.

"What is Gemini doing _here_?" Robyn asked me as we, at the same time, slipped the latches on the stall doors to the "Occupied" position.

"I don't know. But this can't be good. Have you sent a message to Luke and the others yet?"

Robyn was in the stall next to mine. I could hear the Morse code rapidly tapping out of her watch. "I'm going as fast as I can but, somehow, I don't think the boys are really hearing it over the screams on the Terminator."

Chapter Twenty-One

In less than a minute, I had my wig planted on my head and my mask positioned, securely, on my face.

I wasn't Brooke anymore: I was Taffy, the superhero.

I stuffed my backpack in a dark corner of the restrooms, under the sinks. It was black so I had no worries of it sticking out and drawing attention.

Robyn and I dashed out of the toilet block, our senses on high alert, ready for anything, looking over our shoulders and around at people: searching for Gemini and his henchmen.

My senses on full alert; there was nothing I couldn't see, hear or notice. However, my heightened senses did nothing for my lack of coordination.

A large group of random people had gathered to watch some show, but I saw them too late and, so, ran slap-bang into the back of an unsuspecting teenager.

"Hey, watch it!" he said, indignantly.

"Sorry," I mumbled and took a step back. "Why is this crowd here?" I asked Robyn in a low voice.

Robyn shrugged. "I guess it's for some side-walk performers," she answered.

Robyn balanced on the balls of her feet, struggling to see over the mass of people congregated in a tight circle.

Robyn is not the tallest girl you will ever meet: standing on tiptoe, she only _just_ reached my height.

"Allow me," I offered. I stretched myself up until I was about seven feet tall. I could easily see over the heads of people now.

I peered into the middle of the wide circle to see what all the fuss was about.

There was no show.... No show _I_ wanted to see, anyway.

<It's Gemini,> I told Robyn only.

<What is he doing?> she asked.

I leaned a little closer, hovering over the heads of the unsuspecting bystanders.

Gemini; roughly six foot four, black hair, grey eyes, pale skin, a scary resemblance to Smithy and the left side of his face encased in metal. He seemed to be confused: he didn't understand why all the people were congregating around him and his armed henchmen.

"I have nothing to argue with you people, please leave," he asked, forcefully.

"Go on, give us a show!" some idiot yelled.

Gemini looked even more confused. "A show? You believe this to be a _show_? Oh, I'll give you a show..."

His henchmen took their positions around their boss and aimed their technologically advanced weapons at the audience.

You'd think they would have gotten the drift by then. But, no. They started clapping and whistling, enjoying the performance.

"Ugh, these people need a few more brain cells to rub together," I muttered to myself.

The applause further frustrated Gemini.

<Can you read Gemini's mind?> I asked Robyn.

<I've tried before,> she replied. <Either he doesn't think much or he has some kind of mental block that I can't get through. I can't _read_ his thoughts, but I can sort of feel his intentions. He's angry.>

<I could have told you that, Captain Obvious.>

<And ready to shoot.>

<That I was also guessing.>

<Yeah, and you wouldn't mind a stick of candyfloss, either.>

She was right. <Hey, stop reading my mind and let's get to work!>

Robyn giggled in my mind. She could get rather cheeky when she wanted to.

<Well, what should we do?>

I scanned the crowds, searching for the rest of our team. In amongst the large throng of mothers, fathers, kids and random couples, I saw the boys, with their beanies and masks already on, running through the crowd; dodging people and apologizing to all those they _didn't_ dodge.

It wasn't hard to tell they had just gotten off the Terminator: they were swaying back and forth, violently, as they weaved through the assembly of people.

<Tell Luke and the others where we are: I can see them coming,> I told Robyn.

In a matter of seconds, the boys reached us.

They doubled over, hands on knees, gasping for breath. I stretched down and joined my team.

I couldn't help but smile. "I'm guessing you guys had fun," I said.

"That. Was. FANTASTIC!" Kevin cried, in between gasps of breath, drawing a bit of attention.

"He enjoyed it," Luke translated. "Says it reminded him of the public transport on the Systematic Home World."

"What kind of planet allows transport that encourages nausea?" I asked.

"Well, I know one place I never want to get a bus pass," Ned mumbled.

"Okay, down to business," Luke said. "What's going on?"

"Gemini's here—" I began.

"We know," Luke cut in.

"His henchmen are with him—"

"We know," Luke interrupted, again.

"They're ready to shoot at anyone that annoys their chief..." I trailed off, waiting for the interruption that didn't come.

"We didn't know that," Luke admitted, standing up straight.

"What do you think we should do?" Robyn asked.

Luke chewed his lip, thinking. "I don't want to put anyone at risk and I don't want to hurt Gemini's henchmen: for all we know they could just be innocent people."

"So, what are we going to do?" I asked.

Luke looked around the fairgrounds with that look in his eyes that said he was thinking at a million miles a second. It didn't take too long for his eyes to rest on the fairgrounds' locker rooms.

"I have a crazy idea..."

"Famous last words," Ned muttered.

Luke glared at him. "Can you at least try and imagine something working out for the best?"

Ned thought about it for a moment. "No, not really. Murphy, ever heard of him? Yeah, he's got this law and it is out to get me. Don't ask me why: I don't know what I did to him—"

"Never mind," Luke interrupted before his friend could carry on. "Right now, though, I just have one question: has anyone here ever wanted to be a street performer?"

Chapter Twenty-Two

With the crowds gathering to watch a fuming Gemini and his dressed up henchmen, it wasn't difficult for us to sneak into the restricted locker rooms.

The locker rooms were where all the employees and volunteers kept their assorted props and junk.

The people who walked around wearing costumes of iconic characters, hugging kids and stopping to take photos with fans, kept their spare costumes in the lockers.

And that was what Luke was thinking.

We ran into the locker rooms and Ned dashed straight into the costume cupboard and set to work.

"Get costumes for everyone," Luke instructed.

"You got it, chief," Ned replied.

"Don't call me chief."

"So, we dress up as cartoon characters, wearing our normal disguises underneath... and do what, exactly?" Ned asked as he riffled through the pile of colourful costumes.

"We draw Gemini away from the people. I don't think he'll be interested in shooting any innocent bystanders after he sees us," Luke explained. "So, use your powers as much as possible, distract Gemini and his henchmen and just run. Run like there's no tomorrow."

"We can't run forever," Robyn pointed out. "What are we going to do once we get Gemini and his henchmen away from the fair?"

"I was hoping we could talk..." Luke trailed off, thinking. "I was considering tying them up and somehow contacting Angela Spike... I don't know. We're just going to worry about getting them away from people first."

Ned picked up the head of a costume and examined it. He sniffed inside and immediately recoiled. "This idea stinks," he commented. "Literally."

"I know, but we've come this far, we may as well carry on," I said.

It took a few minutes but, eventually, Ned chucked five cartoon costumes behind him.

"Where's yours?" I asked, picking up some random piece of a costume of a cartoon character I couldn't identify. It was yellow. I began climbing into it.

Ned closed the door. "It's a surprise," he said.

We clambered into our costumes as fast as we could and helped zip each other up.

"Pee-u," Ned exclaimed from inside the closet. "I wasn't kidding: this really stinks."

I had to agree with him: the costume reeked of bubblegum, sweat, soda, sweat, old socks and... did I mention sweat?

My costume had two, large oval eyes made of black, white and blue netting. I could see and breathe through them, but no one else could see inside my costume.

It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to walk in my clunky new costume. So, I decided to practise a little. I walked around the room, taking big steps, trying to grow accustomed to the feeling. I walked past a mirror and caught sight of my reflection. "I'm _Tweety Bird_?!" I exclaimed.

I clumsily turned around and looked over at the others.

Luke was Bugs Bunny, Robyn was Amy Rose from Sonic the Hedgehog, Smithy was Crash Bandicoot and System, as Kevin, was Flower the skunk from Bambi.

"Ha, ha, ha," I said, mockingly. "Real funny, Ned."

Ned burst out of the closet and struck a famous body-builder pose. He was the very green and, very small, Incredible Hulk.

"I chose our costumes according to us," he waved a fake-muscular arm in Smithy's direction. "Smithy never talks and neither does Crash Bandicoot. System is a skunk, let's all face it. And Bugs Bunny is—"

"I don't want to hear it," Luke interrupted. "Let's just get out of here."

The crowd of people, old and young, men and women, had not yet broken up. In fact: more had joined. Gathered around a rather irate Gemini, they still had no idea that this guy had tried to destroy the human race just over a month ago.

"Okay," Luke, in his ever-smiling Bugs Bunny costume, said in a low voice. "Go in there as street performers: pretend you're joining the act and then give Gemini a reason to chase you. Remember: don't get hurt and don't hurt anyone else. Now, go!"

I gently eased my yellow wings between people and they politely parted to create a clear path for the six of us to join the "show."

Gemini, who was struggling to brush away some annoying bystanders with cameras, saw us coming and groaned. He didn't think his day was going to get any worse... and then it did.

We started doing what every person in an oversized cartoon costume would do: we waved like idiots and did clumsy little dances on the spot. The crowds lapped it up, clapping and cheering us on as we twirled and skipped our way to Gemini.

I swear, Gemini's jaw hung open and his eyes were wider than saucers: he stared at us as if we were aliens.

"This is ridiculous," Gemini said, sternly. "I am not here to perform, I am not here to be insulted and I am not here to harm you people. So could you please just leave or I will be forced to—"

"Well, what are you here for, then?" some little kid, who knew no better, called from the crowd.

"Maybe he's famous and he's here to sign autographs!" another idiot called.

Gemini slapped his forehead and slowly slid his hand down his half-normal, half-metal face.

"I don't know: he looks just like my dentist," I heard someone from the crowd whisper.

Everyone whipped out pens and autograph books and stormed closer to the "famous" Gemini.

We slowly closed in around Gemini, still waving and dancing.

<Luke says it's time to rock and roll,> Robyn said.

<My pleasure,> I replied.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gemini is not from Earth, that much I am certain about. Therefore, he doesn't understand some things that we humans have grown accustomed to: like people dressing up in ridiculous outfits and acting like idiots.

Or random people mistaking you for a celebrity and swamping you for an autograph. (Happens to the best of us.)

I will admit, though, it was fun: dancing around in that stuffy Tweety Bird costume. It stank, it was claustrophobic and it was hot inside the costume. But I still managed to enjoy myself.

But, all good things must come to an end.

With no warning, I stretched out my arm (or stubby yellow wing) and wrapped it around one of the henchman's weapons.

I lifted the object over the heads of the inhabitants of Rockwell and threw the weapon as hard as I could in the direction of the water slide as I silently hoped it would short circuit in the water.

The crowd gasped and everything went still for a moment. I chanced a peek at Gemini who turned a whiter shade of pale.

Not too much time passed before the crowd was clapping again and pulling out their phones to capture the action.

Smithy (Crash) teleported from his spot next to Bugs Bunny and appeared behind Gemini. He tapped him on the shoulder and teleported back to his original position before Gemini could even twirl around to see who it was.

Gemini was absolutely stunned. He was standing, slack-jawed, staring at us in complete bewilderment. His face cracked into a smile as recognition finally sparked: he knew who we were.

He quickly regained his composure. "Guards, get them," he ordered, calmly.

It was probably a well planned-out trap the Upbeats had just waltzed into. But we had prepared for a trap.

<Here goes nothing!> Robyn called, cheerily. I couldn't believe she was actually enjoying this.

Putting a pause to our little jigs and bouts of waving to the crowd, we turned tail and ran, each one of us heading in a different direction.

There were five henchmen plus Gemini. Gemini pursued Luke (Bugs), and that left one henchman for every remaining member of the Upbeats.

Ned darted for the rollercoaster, Luke ran for the bouncy castles, Robyn headed for the Ferris Wheel, System shot towards the petting zoo and Smithy ran towards the fun house.

I raced towards the water slide with the henchman I had taken the weapon from hot on my heels. He pulled a smaller, but equally menacing, weapon from a holster around his waist

Taking the steps three at a time (which is extremely hard to do in an oversized Tweety Bird costume,) I made it to the top of the water slide.

"Excuse me," I said, politely, to a man who was just setting down his tyre, ready to race down the water slide.

He stepped aside, realizing this was serious as soon as he saw the henchman, and allowed me to clamber into the tyre. He even gave me a little push.

(Etiquette is not dead.)

I didn't exactly see which water slide I had just hopped onto but I soon figured out it was the Raging Rapids.

Eddies, miniature whirlpools and a ton of bumps and skids awaited me.

Water rushed up to meet me, soaking my yellow and orange costume, making me even heavier.

Flung harshly to the side of the slide, I bashed my arms and legs into hard, artificial rock. My costume was slowing me down as it got heavier and heavier the more water soaked into the hard material.

I struggled for a moment as I slid down a smooth decline and managed to get the head of my costume off. I threw it behind me and readjusted my sleek, blonde bob and mask.

I found good reason to be thankful for the little hand holds on the side of the tyres: they came in good use when I was nearly thrown out of the tyre while riding the bumpy declines, which only got bumpier and bumpier.

I thought it was over but then I came to the whirlpool to end all whirlpools.

Dizzy was too light a term to describe the torture that whirlpool inflicted.

I was disoriented, woozy and out of control. Going round and round in an endless circle, I feared it would never spit me out.

I struggled to kick against the artificial, brightly painted rock walls but my foot only ended up getting bashed mercilessly.

Thankfully, it did end when another kid came down the ride and bumped into me, giving me momentum, sending me out the whirlpool of torture and tipping me over the next decline.

The only problem with the extra little push was that it knocked the teenager, who could only be a year older than me, right out of his tyre and onto my lap.

He screamed and I screamed, too.

There I was, rushing down the last slide, which was the longest, the bumpiest and the roughest, with this screaming boy on my lap. He was trying to get off and I was trying to get _him_ off.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" he yelled over the noise of the rapids.

"Don't think I meant for this to happen, buster. Now get off!" I replied.

I was struggling to shove him off and he was thrashing about, using all his energy to push himself off.

The last slide led into the large pool where riders dismounted their tyres and swam for the steps.

I was thrown off my tyre and landed, on top of my unwelcome hitchhiker, with a colossal splash.

Just as I got to the steps, the henchman who had been pursuing me landed in the pool, too.

Hesitation forgotten, I ran towards another water slide. But the rest of my wet and heavy costume, which I had not been able to shed on the rapids, kept slowing me down.

Hopping and skipping on one foot, struggling to clamper out the rest of the costume, I ran like there was no tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next water slide I shoved my way onto was the Tunnel of Terror. It was a long, twisty, enclosed, dark slide that took sharp corners and steep dives, throwing the rider along the walls of the tunnel.

It wasn't actually as terrifying as it was always said to be, but it wasn't for the faint of heart or the claustrophobic.

I had never been frightened of the Tunnel of Terror. At a Rockwell Well Anniversary Festival a few years back, Robyn and I were going to ride the Tunnel of Terror together but she got so scared, she didn't even touch the double seater tyre.

So, Arthur had to go down with me and we loved it.

It was the same tunnel I was going down this time, but the circumstances were completely different. This wasn't for fun, this was to save my life.

You can't ride the Tunnel of Terror on your own: you need to go down with a friend. Or, in this case, a complete stranger.

A couple were getting ready to go down together when I came running up the stairs, panting and gasping for breath. I pointed behind me, gesturing to the angry (and wet) henchman chasing me.

The man stepped aside and let me hop into the tyre with his girlfriend. She didn't mind. She actually thought it was going to be fun sliding down the Tunnel of Terror with a superhero.

We pushed off, without hesitation, and the artificial current immediately swept us away.

It was pitch-black in the Tunnel of Terror. My eyes were rendered useless: I could see _nothing_. It was disorientating.

The fast pace of the ride created a low whooshing sound that was strangely comforting. Cool water splashed us in the face and the sharp bends threw us like rag dolls to the left and right.

The girl I was travelling with screamed out of pure delight. I couldn't help myself: I screamed, too. It was fun, despite the situation.

Little holes were punctured into the round roof of the tunnel and arranged into arrows that pointed downwards. But as the bends got sharper and the steep declines intensified, the arrows started to point behind us, as if indicating we should turn back.

It was fun, until something started bumping us from behind.

"Hey!" the girl shouted. "What's the big idea, buster?"

It was the henchman. He must have jumped onto the ride seconds after we had and caught up with us.

There was no way of avoiding him. I just had to hope with all my heart he wouldn't decide to shoot.

No sooner had we seen the light seeping in through the exit of the tunnel did the ride spit us out into the large pool of water that slowed our momentum.

I sprung out of the tyre, swam like crazy towards the steps and hauled myself out of the water. The moment I stepped out of the pool, someone grabbed my wrists and yanked them, painfully, behind my back.

"No, let go!" I yelled. I kicked and fought like a tiger but they had a strong grip.

It turned out not to be the henchman, as I had first assumed.

"You have the right to remain silent," said the buff security guard.

"You're kidding me," I mumbled.

"I never kid."

Chapter Twenty-Five

The security guards "escorted" us to their little makeshift headquarters on the fairgrounds. We were being taken in for disturbing the peace. Oh, but don't worry: they got Gemini and his henchmen, too.

The "headquarters" was really just a big, white tent. It didn't even have a floor! We stood on soaking wet grass with patches of mud scattered here and there.

My team and I sat on uncomfortable, moulded, plastic chairs, rubbing shoulders with each other. Gemini and his henchmen were in another tent.

The Rockwell fairgrounds security guards were detaining us for the moment, waiting for higher law enforcement officials to arrive and take over.

I was the only team member who had managed to ditch their costume; the others were still sitting around wearing their oversized, smelly and claustrophobic costumes.

From inside the tent, we could hear the loud music, shouts and screams of delight and terror and the constant drone of conversation from the festival. Life was carrying on and no one seemed too bothered or put off by our vigorous chase.

I was soaking wet and shivering cold. I was wearing a jacket, a long-sleeve T-shirt, jeans, socks and boots but, when you're wet, it doesn't matter what you decide to wear: you will be cold.

No one spoke, no one thought out loud and no one dared do as much as whisper in the tent. There were only two security guards hanging around: a young rookie and an older chap who looked as if he were retiring soon. To be honest, it was a bit of an insult: two security guards, one about to retire and one still going through the handbook, were no match for five super-powered teens and their alien friend. We could have gotten free, had we wanted, but we had no intention of escaping.

"Hulk hungry," Ned suddenly piped up, putting an end to the long silence.

<Ned, what are you doing?> Robyn asked him.

"Excuse me?" one of the guards said, confused.

"I haven't had dinner and I've been on the go, non-stop: chasing bad guys, running up a rollercoaster, getting run over by a rollercoaster car with a four-hundred pound lady on board..." Ned (Hulk) clarified, gesturing freely and flamboyantly with his huge, fake muscular green arms. "And, so, long story short: Hulk hungry."

"A bunch of superheroes in cartoon costumes, a chase through a festival, and the Incredible Hulk asking for a snack. Man, this reminds me of the summer of 1969," the older security guard said, longing for the good old days. "Of course, that was the _real_ Hulk back then."

"Ooo-kay," the younger security guard looked at his mentor with concern. He shook his head, causing his mass of dark curls to bounce all over the show, and began riffling through his pockets. "I have half a muesli bar... would that do?"

<Boy, are these the nicest security guards or what?> I told Robyn.

Ned accepted the muesli bar. "This is relevant to my interests," he said before peeling off the wrapper. He took off the Hulk head, revealing good ole Ned with his backwards baseball cap and mask, and proceeded to stuff the remains of the bar in his mouth.

"Ank coo," Ned thanked the security guard through a full mouth.

It took about ten minutes for the police to arrive. Three armed officers walked into the room, and let me tell you something: you never feel more like a criminal than when the police walk into the room... regardless of whether you actually did something or not.

Luke stood up. He held out his hand to shake the policeman's. When he didn't take it, Luke realized he was still wearing the bulky Bugs Bunny costume.

"One second," he said before proceeding to climb out the cartoon costume. From within the grey and white cartoon character emerged Luke Rosenhart, or rather Tripp, with his mask covering the area around his eyes and his black beanie completely disguising his white blonde hair.

The officer shook Luke's hand and opened his mouth to say something. But before he got a chance, I butted in.

"Look, you don't need to question us: we're not the criminals here. Metal-Face and his henchmen in the other tent, though, are. We—"

Luke put a hand on my arm to calm me down. "Br—er— _Taffy_ , let the nice man finish talking."

I bit my tongue.

"Thank you, and just call me Frank," the officer said. He was a man in his forties with thick, dark brown hair and a thick, neat moustache. He wore dark sunglasses, even though night had fallen, and he spoke with a deep voice that didn't convey any emotion.

"As I was saying, we know you aren't criminals—"

"Then let us go," I interjected.

"Boy, you never miss a beat, do you?" Ned said.

" _Anyway_ ," Frank carried on, a slight tone of frustration entering his emotionless voice. "You are not criminals. But we don't know exactly what you are."

I opened my mouth to say "heroes," but Frank didn't let me.

"Granted, you have 'saved the day' on a number of occasions, but some are still wary."

"Who's wary?" Luke asked, cautiously.

Frank turned to him. "The government, the military, the FBI, CIA, District 61, even MI5..."

"And I thought I'd never be famous," Ned commented.

"You have... superpowers," Frank said the last word as if it were a word from another language. "And this puts a lot of people on edge. The public regards you as heroes, and even I will thank you kids for what you've done. But there are concerns that if you turned rogue..."

"How cliché is this?" I mumbled.

"But we're not dangerous," Smithy piped up, talking for the first time since I could remember from that evening. I spun on my heel to look over at him. He had taken off his Crash costume, though I don't know when, as I had not exactly been watching him. "You never have to worry about us turning on people or going crazy: we're not like that."

"Yeah," Robyn agreed. "It may be a little done already, but we're here to help, not destroy. When the world needs a hero, they can call us from now on... and we will be there."

"We'll save the day, crime after crime," I said. "And right now, that guy you have in the tent next to us, he is going to do something. I don't know what, and I don't know how. But he is going to try something and it is not going to be nice. So, please, let us go already so we can—"

Frank held up his hands. "I'm not the one saying you're the bad guys," Frank said. "I just have orders to carry out. And right now, I can't let you go and I can't let... what's his name? Jemima?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luke stiffen at the mention of his little sister's name.

"Gemini," Kevin corrected.

"Yeah, him, I can't let him out, either," Frank said, trying to reassure us. "I have to sit tight and wait until a senior CIA agent gets here. He has questions to ask and an investigation to carry out. He was called a few hours ago, but I don't know when his plane gets in—"

"Fifteen minutes ago," a deep, familiar voice boomed.

My heart froze, stopped beating and dropped to my shoes. My head spun, my face paled and my blood turned to ice.

I feared I might faint when a tall, red-haired, hazel-eyed man in his forties walked through the opening to the tent.

<Hey, Brooke, isn't that your... your dad?> Robyn asked me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

My father, the senior, never home, never calls, never sends an email, CIA agent.

A brown trench coat, jeans, muddy shoes, gloves and, again, sunglasses at night.

People, who really know me, know that I look like my mom. But the red tint in my hair, my tall frame, my temper and my detective's intuition, all come from my dad.

I hadn't been in the same room as my father for almost three years and the last phone call I got from him was over two years ago. I hadn't counted on ever seeing, or hearing, from him as long as I lived.

I stood there, in the tent, in the cold of a winter's night, the smell of junk food and sweat from the costumes filling my nose, staring at my estranged father, nearly fainting.

But he was as clueless as to my presence as he was to knowing the identities of the Upbeats.

I couldn't swallow, I couldn't think and I couldn't talk. I didn't trust myself to speak.

My father took off his glasses, shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled, leisurely, to the middle of the room.

Automatically, the Upbeats formed a line, much like a military line-up. We stood stock-straight and squared our shoulders, ready for inspection.

My father examined each of us from head to toe. My friends didn't flinch, none of them looked as worried as I felt.

I nearly lost it when piercing hazel eyes bored into my own blue eyes.

"I can see through any disguise," my father said as he studied me like a bug under a microscope.

The way he lingered as he glared at my face caused me to start shaking, uncontrollably. My dad, the greatest CIA agent there ever existed, was going to see through my disguise in a second.

"But these... these are _good_ ," my dad straightened up. "They must not be from around here."

<Ned says: 'seriously, he didn't see through these pathetic disguises?'> Robyn relayed.

I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until it all came out as a huge sigh of immense relief. Every muscle and bone in my body turned to jelly.

Considering as my father wasn't going to reveal us any time soon, I felt safe enough to turn my head and look at the others.

Ned, still wearing the full-body piece of the green Hulk costume, smirked.

Luke still looked tense, though.

Kevin, who had removed his over-exaggerated skunk head, blinked, confused.

I barely registered Smithy: he stood quietly, arms folded, observing the scene.

I couldn't tell what Robyn, the only one who was still wearing a complete costume, was thinking. Nevertheless, I did see her head jerk, suddenly, as if she had heard something.

<What's up?> I asked her.

<We have to get out of here,> Robyn told me.

<Yeah, I guessed as much,> I replied, a sarcastic tone entering my... uh, thoughts.

<No, really. I heard something...>

A panting security guard rushed into the tent, interrupting our exchange of thoughts.

He was young and short but muscular. His chest heaved with every gulping of air, you could almost see his heart racing and a nasty bruise was forming on his left temple.

"Trent, what's wrong?" the older security guard, who had been watching over us, asked. "You look like you're going to fall over."

"Metal face... got me... from... behind..." said Trent, gasping dramatically between words.

"Calm down, calm down," my dad told him. "Someone get this man a glass of water!"

As he spoke, a glass of water floated through the air, held by invisible strings, towards the panting guard.

The guard stared at it as if it were a dream but gratefully accepted the drink.

Trent took a large gulp and continued his story. "That guy with a metal face and his pals: they got us from behind and ran out."

"Where did they go?" Luke asked, seriously.

Trent looked Luke up and down, uncertainly.

"Just tell me, this could be a life or death situation! Where did they go?"

"Just tell the kid," Frank told Trent.

Trent nodded and swallowed, hard. "I don't know where they went, exactly: they knocked me and the others out. But he did say something about a bomb..."

The colour drained from Luke's face, his brow set and his lips pursed, tightly.

He turned to Frank and my dad. "Sorry to cut the occasion short, and I know the last thing you want to do is let us go, but we are the only ones who can stop Gemini," he told them with an undertone of force creeping into his voice: this was one masked super fourteen year old you did not want to mess with.

"We've got officers surrounding the grounds," Frank informed us, "that guy is not—"

"I'm not going to argue with you," Luke retorted. "Whether you like it or not, we're leaving." He straightened his shoulders and walked, boldly, towards the exit.

My dad stepped in front of the opening to the tent, as if it were going to hold back six superheroes.

"I can't let you leave," he said, sternly. "I'm not done with my questioning."

"Okay, that's it." Luke looked over his shoulder at us, his team.

"We are _outta_ here!" Ned yelled, ecstatically punching the air.

Everyone grabbed the nearest person's arm or hand and, as if rehearsed, Smithy instantly teleported us out the tent, right behind my father. My father, determined not to let us slip out his fingers, ran after us and stood in our way.

The six of us split into various directions, ducked and skirted around the tall frame of my father and bolted into the noisy chaos of the Rockwell Well Anniversary Festival.

My dad, too stunned and too unsure to react, just stared in dumbstruck awe as his detainees got lost in the multitudes of townsfolk.

Before I was out of earshot, I swirled around and looked my dad in the eye. "Oh, one last thing: go home tonight. I'll bet you anything your kids miss you."

My father shook his head, slowly, disbelievingly. "How did you...?" he trailed off.

I winked and smiled, lopsidedly, at him. "Trust me: I'm a superhero."

And, without further distraction, I ran after my team to go, find Gemini and put a stop to whatever nonsense he was planning!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"How are we going to find a bomb in this place?" I asked as I stood on tiptoe, struggling to see over the heads of random townsfolk.

"I don't know," Luke answered, sounding frustrated. "Look for an unmarked, mysterious, black backpack or a bowling ball bag..."

My thoughts spun as wildly as the Terminator: noise, chatter, laughter, screams and music blasted my eardrums from all sides; a strong mixture of aromas including hot dog, sweat and various deodorants made my nose burn and bright lights, hundreds, probably thousands, of faces I couldn't name, and about a billion other things to see made my eyes hurt.

There were too many places to look: it was impossible to find one little bomb.

"It's hopeless," I said, despairingly. "There is no way we can ever find it!"

"We have to," Luke replied, tersely.

"But, how—?"

Suddenly, a loud _boom_ followed by a low rumbling and the blood curdling noise of shattering concrete interrupted my words.

Thousands of voices rose and screamed, yelled and shrieked all at once.

Instantly, I closed my eyes, held my arms above my head and crouched low.

But... I was still alive.

Cautiously, I stood up and surveyed my surroundings.

Everyone had stopped dead in their tracks and stood, scared and waiting. The rides still spun, twirled, rose and fell; the lights still flashed and people were still alive and standing.

"Okay: that wasn't as bad as I imagined," Ned said, nonchalantly.

"But a bomb _did_ just go off," Luke said, warily searching around.

"Yeah, but where?" Robyn asked.

Suddenly, my eyes fell on the fun house. Or, rather, the remains of what used to be the colourful, creepy, weird and overly exaggerated fun house.

"There!" I yelled and pointed.

The six of us ran over to the crumbling ruins. People parted and let us through, as if they knew we were there to help.

Luke bent down and examined the broken entrance sign that welcomed all paying customers into the fun house. He held it in his hands, as if it were some vital piece of evidence, and stood up.

"Was anyone inside the fun house!?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

People in the crowd looked to the people next to them and a loud murmuring rose up. Everyone was asking the same question Luke had posed.

"The band!"

"Excuse me?" Luke called, looking around, unsure of where the voice had come from.

A skinny, weedy, shaking and terrified-looking eighteen-year-old boy jumped out of the crowd and stood in front of Luke. "The band that was going to perform tonight, Class in Jeopardy—"

"Oh, I love them," Ned said.

"They arrived a few minutes ago and decided to enjoy some of the amusements before they went on," the boy relayed the information at a hundred miles an hour. "They were the only ones in there."

Luke dropped the dented sign and looked, solemnly, at the wreckage.

"Do you think they're still alive?" the boy asked, his voice full of concern. "Can you save them?"

"I don't know... but we're going to try," Luke told him, trying his best to sound reassuring.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Okay, strategy time," Luke said as the five of us leaned in closer to hear every detail of our rescue plan. "Ne... _Flicker_ , you start moving the debris."

"So saw that coming," Ned said as ran off and eagerly began lifting big piles of broken brick out the way.

"Dream, try calling to the band, see if they're okay, and then help Flicker."

Robyn nodded. "You got it."

"System, do you know what a crane is?"

Kevin grinned. "It is a bird!" he replied, so proud of himself for knowing the answer.

Luke slapped his forehead. "Well, that is... ugh, never mind. Just... turn into something useful and help Flicker. Blink and Taffy, you're going to have to wait until there's an opening, then you can help us get the band members out," Luke instructed. "So long, I'm going to go through the rubble to try and find the band."

"Got it," Smithy and I said and nodded at the same time. Luke ran to the colourful debris of the fun house, turned insubstantial and slipped through the mess of broken bricks, smashed concrete and twisted metal.

It was the first time I actually noticed that Luke went fuzzy at the edges when he went through stuff. Like someone had taken a sponge and blurred his lines.

Kevin shape-shifted into a big, silver-back gorilla and began helping Robyn and Ned by moving large, heavy blocks of concrete out the way.

Smithy and I didn't have very useful powers when it came to the heavy work.

Ned was strong and invincible so he could move heavy piles of broken bricks and sharp metal without hurting himself.

Debris hovered in the air and gently transported itself to a safer spot, far away from the wreckage. Robyn was doing a fine job with her mind control.

System, the gorilla, proved to be a great help: he was extremely strong. He and Ned were almost in a competition of strength.

And, while Luke's power wasn't much use with the heavy lifting, he could at least search for the bomb victims.

Smithy couldn't teleport in without knowing where to go and I was of no aid until I knew where I was needed exactly.

We kept ourselves busy enough as it was by trying to keep the onlookers calm and away from the crumbling fun house and making sure no one else had been hurt in the blast.

The crowd watched on in dumbstruck awe as the Upbeats worked, intensely.

Loud music still blasted out of the oversized speakers and rides were still in motion, though no one was riding them anymore: everyone had gathered to watch the daring rescue.

Agonizing minutes ticked passed and the feeling of complete uselessness only grew inside me. I stood around, my arms crossed, watching the toe of my sneaker, intently, as it kicked at a loose piece of asphalt.

The low murmuring continued, though, when I looked back at the crowd, it didn't look like anyone was talking.

Smithy gazed at the ruins of the fun house, deep in thought.

He and I had never really spoken. We had never had a complete conversation but I never felt too bad about that because Smithy had not had much conversation with anyone besides Luke and Robyn.

I could describe my relationship with anyone in the team. But I couldn't say what the status was with Smithy because there really was no friendship. We were both superheroes, in the same team and we saved the world together, end of story.

"We should go after Gemini," I said, breaking the uneasy silence between Smithy and I.

Smithy shook his head. "He'll be long gone by now."

I said no more and continued my tedious stone kicking.

It is amazing just how much you can think about stones. I was having a great conversation in my head with myself about how there seemed to be more small stones than big stones.

"Was that really your dad back there?" Smithy asked me.

I nodded. "Yep."

"I wonder where he is now..."

"It's strange that he didn't come after us... I guess he and the other officers went after Gemini."

"Where's your mom?" Smithy enquired, conversationally.

(Boy, was he chatty tonight...)

"She died... when I was ten," I replied. It had been years since I had spoken about my mother to anyone other than my brother. It felt strange to be telling it to someone who was basically a stranger to me.

"Oh... I'm sorry," Smithy said.

"It's alright."

"You must miss her a lot."

"Yeah, all the time."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"We found them!" Luke called, triumphantly, as he stood up out of the mess of concrete, bricks and metal with a dusty, weak and bruised teenage girl with long black hair streaked with pink, purple, silver and dirt, draped like a rag doll in his arms.

Luke stumbled out of the mess, careful not to bump the girl around too much.

An ambulance had arrived only minutes earlier. Two paramedics raced over, carrying a stretcher. Luke gently laid the girl on the stretcher and ran back to the disaster sight.

Ned moved a large slab of concrete and bricks out the way and yelled; "Found the others! Blink, Taffy: this is where you come in!"

Smithy and I ran over and started helping.

The pile of debris and broken fun house was high, considering how big the building had been. Smithy and I had to climb a small hill of props, mirrors and weird paintings mingled amongst smashed bricks and cracked concrete to reach Ned, Robyn, Luke and System, who had shifted back to his usual Kevin form.

When we got there, we could finally see what the others had accomplished. A sort of well had been dug out and a way down, illuminated by the lights of the festival, I could see the three remaining band members.

"Taffy," Luke said. I nodded, understandably.

I crouched down as close as I dared to the edge of the well and lowered my elongated arms.

I wrapped my left arm around the waist of a boy with crazy, unnaturally red hair and my right arm around a girl with normal blonde hair in twin buns and a pink star painted under her left eye.

I pulled them up, gently, being careful not to bash them against the sides of the tunnel.

Smithy teleported down into the well, held onto the last member of Class in Jeopardy: a boy in jeans with normal brown hair; and teleported out.

I lifted the two band members to safety. The paramedics didn't miss a beat and ran over, faster than lightning, and took the beat up and bruised, but still breathing, band away on stretchers.

The crowd cheered, clapped, whistled and shouted their thanks.

The six of us linked arms, leaning on each other's shoulders for support after the long night.

The ambulances stayed a while, making sure no one else had been injured and treating the members of Class in Jeopardy.

The evening had been going just fine... and then the dreaded photographers, reporters, journalists and TV news crews showed up.

Instantly, the six of us groaned.

Expecting the inevitable flashing cameras and microphones bombarding us, the six of us cringed in anticipation.

However, it wasn't so bad.

There were still flashing cameras and microphones shoved in our faces, but the press took it a bit easier on us than they had been in previous rescue missions. Maybe the Upbeats had earned some respect among the media circles.

The ambulances packed up the band members and drove away, heading for the hospital. Everyone stood and turned to watch them leave. Once they were gone, the cheering died down.

In fact, they started to groan.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

A disheartened little kid looked up at us. "We were all looking forward to the music."

"That's why most of us came down here," a random guy called from the crowd.

"Do you really think we care about wells?" another random person shouted from even further back in the crowd.

"Really? We just saved the day, rescued four teenagers from certain doom... and now everyone's depressed because there's no band playing?" Ned was outraged. He crossed his arms in a huff. "Ungrateful much?"

Luke put a hand on his friend's shoulder and turned his back to the crowd. We huddled in a little circle and spoke in low voices.

I didn't notice it straight away but, looking back, a smile had started to creep onto Luke's usually serious face.

"Let's give them a show, shall we?" he suggested.

"Why?" I asked, not seeing the point in anything.

"Well, we saved the day; we may as well end it with a song. You know, nothing can ever go wrong, if you end with a song," Robyn said, optimistically.

"I know you can play drums, Ned," Luke said, delighted his idea was playing out. "I'm on bass guitar, Robyn plays piano and I've heard her sing—"

Robyn blushed, automatically. "I nearly fainted in that school play when I was seven... and I was just the back end of a donkey!" she didn't deny she could sing, though.

"Oh, come on," I told her. "Do it for the people, do it for Class in Jeopardy, do it for your friends."

Robyn looked uncertain but finally sighed. "If I faint, it's on your hands."

I smiled, feeling satisfied that I had managed to talk my friend into doing the very thing that scared her to death.

"Now all we need is someone on guitar..." Luke said and trailed off as everyone looked at Smithy.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know guitar."

"What will Taffy here do?" Ned asked, poking a thumb in my direction.

"I'm not telling you what instrument I play," I said, stubbornly.

"Oh, come on, why not?"

"It's... well, it's a little..."

Ned poked me, playfully. "Go on, tell me."

Luke put a hand up to stop the inevitable fight. "She can sing with Dream."

"And System?" I asked. "What is he going to do?"

Everyone looked at System.

"I know what a television is," he replied, helpfully.

"That's not... actually, that's perfect!" Ned exclaimed. "You can supply visual effects! You know all those really cool colourful, abstract, artistic flashy things?"

"You had me at colour."

Luke turned to the crowd. "You want music, you got music."

The crowd cheered, loudly.

Chapter Thirty

The stage had been completely set up so all we had to do was familiarize ourselves with the layout and instruments on the very stage Class in Jeopardy was going to sing on. System turned into a big, over-sized TV screen and played around with colourful fireworks, swirls and paint splashes.

We were tuned, plugged in and all ready to go... only one problem remained.

I covered my microphone with the palm of my hand and leaned backwards towards Luke. "What exactly are we going to sing?" I asked.

Luke, his fingers all positioned on the bass guitar's neck, shrugged. "Anyone know the Beatles? Eagles? Chubby Checker?"

Ned started jumping up and down, excitedly. "Ooh, can we do Smash Mouth?"

"Or we can do that..." Luke rolled his eyes, defeated.

"I don't know any of their songs on drums, by the way," Ned interrupted.

I slapped my forehead. "Then why did you suggest it?"

Ned shrugged. "They have some good songs."

We stood on stage, unsure what to do. The crowd clapped and cheered, anticipating the rocking of their lives.

We had to do something soon or else there was going to be a riot on our hands.

"Um... I wrote a song," Robyn said, shyly.

Everyone turned to look at her. "I didn't know you wrote songs," I said, almost hurt that my best friend had kept this piece of information from me.

"Well, it's actually just a poem I wrote: it's only lyrics, no notes or chords," Robyn corrected herself.

"We can make up the music, we can jam," Luke said. "Just give us the words."

Robyn fished in her pocket and pulled out a crinkled piece of paper. Gingerly, she handed the piece of paper to me. Her face went so red; she was terrified her friends might hate her song. I quickly read the words. "Hey, this ain't half bad."

She moved her microphone stand closer to mine and shared the paper with me.

"What music are we going to play?" Ned asked.

Robyn thought about it for a second. "Something... Upbeat."

Ned grinned and twirled his drumsticks. "You got it, kid."

"I'll give you all a signal when it's a chorus and another signal for the bridge," Robyn informed.

Ned started drumming, softly, Smithy jumped in with soft but happy strumming and Luke backed them up.

Now it was just up to Robyn and I.

<So now the Upbeats are a band as well,> I said to Robyn.

Robyn smiled. " _Okay, here goes nothing..._ "

♫

System's screen was colourful and excited, Ned's drumming made everyone feel like dancing, Luke's bass was just right and Smithy's guitar really made the occasion.

And Robyn could _sing_!

When the song began, she stood stock straight with her hands holding onto the microphone stand so hard, her knuckles turned white and she sang in a whisper so quiet; people were cupping their hands around their ears to hear her.

Nevertheless, as the song progressed, the bass warmed up and the beat rose, she gradually gained confidence and sang with more volume and emphasis.

She didn't have one of those stunning voices that would win _Idol_ or anything, but she carried her tune with feeling and you could tell she enjoyed herself.

Robyn even started to dance.

In fact, Robyn was getting so into the song, I softened my own voice until I was just singing back-up.

Not many moments in life will warm your heart up like seeing your shy and scared friend get up, sing in front of an audience, enjoy herself and have everyone love her.

Everyone in the audience had such a good time that everyone danced: even grandmas and little two year olds!

Not to get full of myself or anything, but the Upbeats rocked that night...

And the fireworks went off in the middle of the bridge of Robyn's song, making the whole night just... perfect.

Epilogue

It's an understatement to say it was late when we left the showgrounds.

At the end of our little performance, Smithy teleported us out of there and into a quiet alleyway.

We took off our masks, wigs and assorted head gear. Kevin shifted back to his regular skunk form and started waddling off towards the woods.

"Is he really going to be okay walking all the way back to the cave?" I asked.

Robyn shrugged. "He goes walking around town all the time: he walks far."

Luke yawned. "Well, it's time for all of us to start heading home and..." he stopped, abruptly, his eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" Ned asked.

Luke turned to Robyn and me. "Where's Jemima?"

Robyn and I exchanged terrified glances. "Oops... knew we forgot something," I admitted, sheepishly.

"She's with Sabrina Ride," Robyn told Luke. "I'm sure she took good care of Jemima. Just give her a call and ask her where she is."

Luke whipped out his cell phone and started searching the contacts list. He pushed a few buttons and held the phone to his ear. After a few seconds, "Hi... Sabrina?"

"I think he'll omit this minor detail when he relays the events of tonight to his mom," Ned leaned in and whispered, loudly, to the rest of us.

"He had better... or else he can kiss that ten bucks goodbye," I replied.

♫

I got home at midnight and went straight to bed. I didn't bother to take a shower and I didn't change into my pj's.

The next day when I woke up, I took that shower I so desperately needed (I stank of sweat and bubblegum from the Tweety Bird costume and chlorine from the water slides) and skipped downstairs, merrily.

Somehow, life seems just a tad more manageable in the morning.

(That, and the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen up the staircase was killing me.)

Rubbing my wet hair with a towel in one hand and pulling up a sock with the other, I jumped over the last step and into the kitchen.

"Hey, Arthur, I didn't know you could fry..." I suddenly froze on entrance to the kitchen.

"Dad?" my jaw dropped to the floor the moment my eyes fell on, not my fair haired, tall, smiling brother but my red-haired, hazel-eyed father... wearing a too-small, purple apron.

The towel I had been using to dry my wet hair fell from my hands onto the tiles as I ran and hugged my dad like there was no tomorrow.

I pulled away for only a second. "Why are you back?" I asked as if I had no clue.

My dad smiled. "Someone just... made me think of you."

I grinned, uncontrollably, and hugged him again.

I never thought he'd come home again. The way I saw it, he had upped and left and was never going to return.

But, there he was, home for a day.

"Now, how do you like your eggs? Fried or scrambled?"

There isn't really much in this world that is normal. Nevertheless, right now, my life was pretty ordinary.

And I liked it.

Observer Scene

The concert was pretty amazing. The Upbeats received so much applause, they stayed on and sang five more "poems" Robyn had written.

I stayed for the show, drifted along in the crowd and enjoyed myself.

Afterwards, I decided to go and find Gemini.

I searched and searched, but I couldn't find him. Still, I knew he would be back. He wasn't finished his job yet...

No matter how far Gemini ran, or how well he hid, I knew he'd be back to wreck havoc for the Upbeats...

Author's Note

Just a quick note, Class in Jeopardy is a band I dreamed up. At the time of writing this, I had no knowledge of a band with the name or the likeness. If such a band does exist, I was completely unaware of it.

