School for Sidekicks (3 page)

But then I got up to the ticket reader—a life-size fiberglass Captain Commanding—and I needed to head into the park. I waved my phone between his extended left hand and his face and his laser eyes scanned the code.

The Captain's recorded voice boomed out, “Welcome to Camp Commanding! Do you have what it takes to be a hero,…
Evan … Quick
?” My name came out in a stilted computer voice. That was new, a special feature for electronic season pass holders maybe.
Creepy
. I was about to move on when the voice spoke again. “Please follow in the Captain's footsteps for your chance to prove yourself worthy,…
Evan … Quick
.”

What on earth? I looked around and saw a series of footprints projected onto the sidewalk behind the fiberglass figure. The prints went in sequence, red print, white print, blue print, repeat. They led off to the left and around the spinning, twisting, blinking bulk of the Sparktopus. Most of the rides at Camp Commanding were themed around Hoods and their battles with the Captain. The Sparktopus had eight lightning-throwing mechanical arms—a real monster.

I stood there half looking at the prints for a long time, trying to decide whether to follow them. But then I finally figured, what else did I have to do?

They ended at a little building I didn't remember ever seeing before. It was mostly masked by a hedge, so no real surprise there, I guess. A big glass door slid aside and a disembodied voice spoke from the ceiling, “Welcome,…
Evan … Quick.
This is your lucky day. Our records show that you turned thirteen yesterday. Is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean ‘yes,' …
Evan … Quick
?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. Your recent birthday makes you eligible for a special Camp Commanding gift
and
a chance to win your very own Mask uniform. Please place your hand on the scanner.”

Say what you will about my chance of ever developing any powers, having my own uniform still sounded pretty cool to me. When a big arrow lit up on the wall and pointed to a small green screen with the outline of a right hand printed on it, I slapped my hand down. The screen hummed, and a line of light slowly slid from bottom to top. As it touched my hand, I felt a scratchy-tingly sensation, like someone was running an electrified metal scraper gently down my fingers and palm.

It didn't quite hurt, but it was pretty uncomfortable. I wanted to jerk my hand away, but I couldn't make my arm move at all. Before I had time to get too worked up about it though, the sensation stopped and I lifted my hand. My palm was bright pink.

A moment later, I heard a sharp clunk and then a sound like one of those giant gumball machines operating behind the wall in front of me. I noticed a tiny door with a basket underneath the hand scanner just as a clear plastic capsule dropped out of it.

“Please take your prize,…
Evan … Quick
, and wait while we process your entry.” This was followed by the sort of stereotypical computer-processing sounds you might hear in a cheap Mask movie.

I picked up the capsule, finding it surprisingly heavy. Inside was a ring with the golden ankh logo of the Office of Strategic Intelligence and Research, International Section inset into the red stone in the bezel. OSIRIS was the agency in charge of metahuman affairs. That was kind of a letdown, actually, since I already had an OSIRIS decoder ring. But I opened the capsule anyway—mostly because of the weight. I was quite surprised when the heavy metal loop fell into my hand—this wasn't a cereal box extra. This felt every bit as substantial as my dad's college ring.

I slipped it onto my ring finger, where it fit perfectly. Okay,
that
was pretty awesome, and it made me feel better about the creepy hand scanner. The computer-processing noises suddenly stopped with a gentle chime.

“Congratulations …
Evan … Quick
, you have been randomly selected to win your very own Mask uniform made from real hero-grade materials. Please enter the booth for the full body measuring scan.”

A section of wall sank in and slid aside with a sharp hiss, revealing a round closetlike room lined with small red disks that reminded me of bicycle reflectors. It was more than a little intimidating. But I looked at my new ring and thought about how cool it would be to have a real Mask uniform even if I never got any powers. The Halloween opportunities alone would justify taking the chance. Still, as I passed through the door, I couldn't help noticing how very thick and heavy it looked.

There were a pair of footprints printed on the floor. When I stepped into the prints, the door slid closed behind me. I was committed now. I heard the gumball machine noise again and looked around for another basket. This time, a little door popped open, spitting out a set of dark swim-meet style goggles.

“Please put on the goggles,
… Evan … Quick.
”

They were so dark I could barely see, but I dutifully put them on. A few seconds later, I was glad I had. Every single disk in the room lit up like a steroidal sun lamp, bathing me in red light. Even
with
the goggles on I found my eyes watering. Before I had time to get too freaked out over that, I found something much better to freak out about.

Remember the tingly itchy sensation the hand scanner had given me? That! Everywhere, and stronger, and not only on the surface either. It felt as if someone had wired a little tiny battery to every single cell in my body. Not painful, but not the least bit comfortable either.

It went on and on and on until I thought I was going to come apart. I wanted to curl into a ball or scream or … well, anything! But I couldn't. I couldn't move at all. The beams coming from the disks had me pinned as tight as any Hood who ever lost a battle to the Wrestleosaurus.

 

3

Breaking News

After a long, burning time the force holding me in place released me and the door opened. I staggered out into the little lobby area and would have left right then if the outer door hadn't refused to open. I was pretty panicky and I pulled out my cell phone to call my mom and have her come get me, but there was no reception. Probably for the best, since my lying phone's clock said it was less than fifteen minutes since I'd come through the front gate. I'd feel pretty stupid about calling her before she even got home.

I was still a little wobbly at that point, but the very familiar act of checking my phone settled me down enough to think. The first thing I noticed was that the stupid electronic voice was blathering away again.

“… work for you?”

“What?” I asked.

“Do you want me to repeat the message,
… Evan … Quick
?”

“Yeah, uh, yes.”

“Your measurements are complete,
… Evan … Quick
. Due to the difficulty of working with fabrics like Armex and Invulycra, it will take some hours to complete your custom Mask uniform. It will be ready at this building after 3:00 p.m. Will that time work for you?”

“Yes.” Anything to get out of there.

“Please come back after three,
… Evan … Quick.”
The big glass door opened and I bolted out into the park.

How to describe Camp Commanding? It's big. Not Disneyland big, but big enough for two separate roller coasters and a whole pile of smaller rides. It smells like new plastic and cotton candy. Everything is oversize and shiny and—as much as I hated to admit it—a little desperate looking, like it's trying too hard to be awesome. Or maybe that was just me after the booth.

I felt really, really strange, like Jell-O with weird fruit in it, all bouncy-squishy-shiny with odd bits floating around my innards. That gave the whole place the feeling of walking through a nightmare, and I had the strangest impression that the endless hordes of fiberglass Captain Commanding figures were judging me.

“Shut up,” I grumbled at a particularly concerned-looking statue, making a passing gaggle of nine-year-olds look at me strangely.
Wow, did I feel funky.

I noticed a hot dog cart then, and dug out enough cash for a can of Metamorphosis—MaskerAde's main competitor.
I know, I know, but I really needed a pick-me-up, and technically I wasn't violating my mom's orders, since she hadn't mentioned
Metamorphosis
, just MaskerAde.
For the first time ever, I didn't get an immediate jolt of energy.

I rode the smaller of the two roller coasters next—the Commanderiat, followed by the Shocktopus—and my favorite ride in the park, the SuperCollider. It's basically a giant pinball machine where you get to ride inside the ball. Picture a big hamster ball with a pilot's chair hanging from a three-way swivel in the middle, and you've got the idea. The swivels don't move as fast as the ball, so when one of the big paddles hits the ball, you go rolling along head over heels for a while until you slow down enough for the chair to get back to hanging upright. That's usually when you run into another paddle or a bumper.

It's awesome! But I just couldn't shake off the weird feeling I'd gotten from the booth, no matter how much I tumbled around or spun in circles. So the rides started to wear after a while. I finally ended up at the Captain's Bunker. Supposedly it was an exact replica of the armored fortress-penthouse he uses as a base, though I sometimes wonder if the real thing has quite so many posters of the Captain. The Captain's gym has always been a favorite of mine. It's full of exhibits that let you see how you measure up to the Captain, like a target range with a helmet that lets you pretend you have laser eyes.

There was also a set of electronic dumbbells that started out at five thousand pounds but stepped down every few seconds until a normal human could lift them. They didn't look like much, and without the positronic magnets in the stand, they barely weighed ten pounds. But the grips were real indestructibilium—because anything less tough might shatter in the Captain's grip—and the dynamo that drove the magnet was designed by Foxman back when he was still a real hero.

That part wasn't mentioned in the exhibit, but I'd read it in an old issue of
Commanding Quarterly
that my dad bought for me in an online auction at Hero's List. Foxman used to be the Captain's best friend, but no one talked about it anymore. Or Foxman for that matter. Not since the tilted tower incident in October of '99. After that, he basically folded up and slowly slid out of sight.

The basketball team guys came rolling in a few seconds after I did and went straight for the dumbbells. I tried to sneak out then, but Manny spotted me heading for the door.

“Hey, Dorkman, don't you want to try the weights?”

I shrugged. I really, really didn't. Not with an audience, but what was I going to say?

“Come on,” he said. “You lift weights, and you're always on about Masks and Hoods. Don't you want to see how you stack up against a real hero? I'll even go first.”

He reached for the weights then, and I knew I was stuck. At first, it was funny watching him take on the barbells. He puffed and panted at the beginning when they weighed five thousand pounds, but you could see he was really trying. He might not be all jerk, but I knew he wanted to show me up. Finally, they dropped down to something he could lift and I checked out the numbers as he did a couple of curls. Seventy-five pounds—I was going to have a terrible time matching that. I do lift, but I'm a skinny thing.

Manny stepped away from the machine and gestured me into his place. I resisted the urge to bolt. I'd been here before, lots. But not in front of an audience, not since the first time.

You see, the screen that shows how much you're lifting is placed so it's really hard to see while you're actually trying out the weights. That lets you believe that you're doing better than you are, that maybe you're really lifting Mask-level iron. It's like it was
designed
to get your hopes up and then crush them. The first time I tried it, that's exactly what happened. I thought for one brief shining moment that I was finally getting powers. I was so excited I about burst a vein. But it was all just a cruel joke played by the guys who built the exhibit.

Every time I think about that, it makes me angry. What right did they have to give a kid hope like that and then snatch it away? Still, every single time I came to Camp Commanding, I had a go. I kept hoping that this time would be the one when my powers finally kicked in.
Stupid, huh?
Today, even though I had an audience and I was about to make a complete idiot out of myself in front of them, I felt that same burst of irrational hope. I couldn't help myself, and that made me even angrier.

I glared up at the banner above the machine. On one side, it had the Captain holding his barbells high, and on the other, King Arthur pulling Excalibur out of a stone. The way the artist had rendered him, Arthur looked an awful lot like the Captain. Below it said, “See how YOU measure up against CAPTAIN COMMANDING!”

Not very well,
I thought.

But I didn't have any choice. Not with half the basketball team watching me. I reached for the dumbbells, then paused. Maybe if I watched the gauge while I was lifting I could at least avoid the trap of half believing I was getting powers. I was going to feel plenty humiliated without adding freshly shattered hope on top of everything else. It wasn't easy to get a look at the thing, but I twisted around and leaned forward until I got the gauge in sight.

I took the grips in my hands and pulled. Nothing. The meter read
5,000 lbs
. It felt like trying to lift a building. Still, I strained and heaved with everything I had. I threw my rage and disappointment into my back and shoulders and
lifted
with my whole body. Nothing. I pulled so hard my vision started to flash purple around the edges.
4,500 … 4,000 … 3,000 … 1,500 …
I felt something shift deep down inside me. Suddenly my whole body went tingly-itchy again like it had back in the booth. The meter blinked and repeated
1,500 lbs
. It had never done that before.