The OK Team 2 (22 page)

No Superpower in the world can help Cannonball at this point. Invisible me creeps silently away.

EPILOGUE

I
t's deep in the third quarter three days later and we're playing Australian Rules football against Thornbury High School. It's a couple of goals the difference, but we're on top and I'm confident we can hold them off, especially with the continued strong play of Frederick Fodder, showing controlled aggression and completely believable, but impressive high marking ability. If Logi-Gal's refusal to be his girlfriend is bothering him, it hasn't affected his footy.

Simon Fondue has also been playing well, and I've managed to score two goals from the wing without resorting to my powers at all. With Bushranger and his gang safely locked away and the Knight-Hood Pact more or less buried, I feel as though a weight larger than North and South America has been lifted off my shoulders. Even Mum and Dad arguing loudly for more than an hour last night hasn't totally ruined my good mood.

The oval ball comes sideways off an Thornbury player's boot and heads for my wing. I race in pursuit and find that I'm one-on-one with a tall, strong Thornbury defender, who snarls as we approach the tumbling leather ball.

He gets there first and grabs the ball with both hands, but I'm ready to wrap him in a bone-crunching tackle. And here's where it gets weird. As my arms close around him, his skin changes colour for a fraction of a second, from pinkish to a sort of silver brown. His skin is slippery, scaly, cold and rock hard. All the breath goes out of me and I momentarily waver in visibility in surprise and pain. The kid pokes his tongue out at me – a completely blue tongue – before he boots the ball long into their forward line.

I'm still lying on the ground, gasping, as Frederick arrives and the Thornbury kid gives me a nasty grin, his tongue flicking out from between his thin lips.

‘What's wrong, lossssser?' the kid says. ‘Having trouble laying a sssssolid tackle?'

Frederick is immediately in the kid's face. ‘Save it for Thursday night, mate.'

‘Thursssssday night?' He looks confused.

‘Yeah, Blue Tongue – Hero Ball,' Frederick says quietly so other players don't hear. ‘Us, the mighty Flying Tigers, versus your pathetic Caped Crusaders. That's where you use your Power, not here. Don't think I haven't been watching you for the whole game. If you look really carefully, Chameleon is in front of the scoreboard, watching too. You might have just won yourself an official AFHT warning for unauthorised civilian use of your Power.'

Blue Tongue looks startled, flicks out his blue tongue and peers at the scoreboard. ‘Chameleon? I don't ssssee him.'

‘That's because he's Chameleon, moron. Now play nicely today, Lizard Brain, because we can't wait for Thursday when we can really let ourselves go.'

Blue Tongue runs off, shaken. I'm looking closely at the scoreboard.

‘Leon is here?'

‘Don't think so,' says Frederick. ‘At least I hope not. I flew at least two seconds too early for a mark just before.'

‘Then what was all that about not using Superpowers in public?'

‘Good advice for the opposition. Now let's go win this game, whatever it takes.'

I think – I hope – he's joking.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T
his book emerged at the end of a very tough year so the biggest thank you to all my friends and family for their love and support, and especially to Anna (who is more cape-worthy than I could begin to attempt to explain) and, as always, to the Fitzroy Hero Development Squad, Will and Mack.

Extra Cape Bonuses, as usual, to the Giants and to everybody at Allen & Unwin. To Jodie for her editing genius (especially with regard to how a 12-year-old Super girl-band member might speak), to Eva for her support and to Sarah Tran for her enthusiasm. Thanks also to Angela Namoi and Rosalind Price (who is roaming somewhere) and to Liz Bray and her team for pulling together
herohints.com
.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

N
ick Place has been a professional writer for more than twenty years, in newspapers, magazines, TV, radio and the internet, but he refuses to grow up, regardless. Having worked as everything from sports reporter to comedy writer, he now runs a media company, ironically called Media Giants, and lives in Melbourne, Australia. His only known Superpower is an ability to flatten surf by standing on a beach with a surfboard, ready to paddle out.
The OK Team 2: Better than OK
is his fourth novel for kids.