The Super 4 : Dark Death (9 page)

“
Okay, Papa.”

I walked with Alex to her car. Her dad, Mr.
Stevens, worked for O-CoolTech too. There was some bad blood
between him and papa, because they were both tied for the third
position.

I looked at papa. His face was drawn into a
snarl. I looked at Mr. Stevens. He looked relaxed, but in his eyes
I saw a deep hatred. I rolled my eyes, at their silly duel. They
were even! Why are they fighting? To prove who’s the better man?
This was like cats versus dogs. In the end the dog wins. But who’s
the dog?

I pondered over this, while Alex got into her
car and her Dad drove away. I was still standing on the curb, when
a door slamming knocked me back into the real world. I turned
around and saw the bright flash of red from the small window on the
door.

I wondered how come he hadn’t told me to come
in. Then I realized that he probably thought I was waving goodbye
to Alex, as I’d done for four years.

Well not anymore! I walked into the house with
my head held high. I went to my room, opened a page in my diary,
and wrote:

Dear Diary-

Darryl

XII

I raced up the stairs to my apartment on the
second floor. I silently turned the lock in my door and slipped
inside. I went to my room through the tiny kitchen, tacitly
avoiding my mother.

She dealt with bank robbery. And if you’re
wondering how come we don’t live in some mansion, it’s because
she’s scared the police will come and get her.

I actually think the whole thing is really
dumb. I mean come on! What’s the point of robbing banks if you
don’t use the money? For the hundredth time I wondered if she was
secretly a hoarder. But I shook of the thought, imagining her
expensive hairdo and clothing. Not to mention her extensively
largely bedroom, which included the living room.

The buzzing of the intercom interrupted my
thoughts. I pressed the button.

“
Hello?”

“
Darryl, please come down. We have
something to show you.”

I took the tiny, stuffed elevator down to the
ground floor. Two women stood outside.

“Are you Darryl?” The tall red head asked.
When I nodded, she continued. “I’m Detective Caroline Opps and I
was looking into a bank robbery. It appears that your mother has
been stealing amounts of up to a million dollars at every bank she
goes to. So far she’s robbed thirteen banks across the
state.”

I pretended to look shocked. Then the shorter
lady, with purple spikes for hair spoke, “I’m Ms. Kidd. I’m a
social worker and deal with cases like yours.” She gave me a
reassuring smile that did not do its job at all. “You can confide
in me.” Then, as if I was a dumb-witted first grader she added,
“Confide means trust in. You can tell me anything.”

I nodded again, still not speaking. “Darryl,
we’re here to take you to the Family for Troubled Kids social
group. Is that okay?” Opps told me.

I spoke for the first time. “Can I go get my
book?”

“
...What do you mean you’re new?”
The dumb pink-haired lady asked.

I noticed that social workers must love hair
dye. “I’m sure I’ve seen you around somewhere!”

“No, you haven’t!” I said, willing myself not
to explode with the frustration welling up inside because of this
pink-haired receptionist. “I don’t even have ‘one of those face’!
Hello! Amber eyes! Dark skin! Short hair! Open your eyes lady!” I
yelled, causing everyone in the room to look at us.

“
Ah! You’re right! I haven’t seen
you before!” She said grinning. “Well then what’s your name? Full
one please.”

“Darryl, with a y, Russell Klein.” I said
slowly, for her benefit.

“Okay. Thanks. Here’s a form to fill
out.”

I glanced over the questions. There were basic
ones like, your age and your birthday, and there were some that
were completely off topic. Like, 'do you prefer tacos to
tortillas?' And whether or not you like Captain America.

Sighing, I reluctantly scribbled and circled
answers onto the paper.

I entered my new room.

One peek destroyed all my visions of a neat
room, filled with books.

It made pigsties look neat. There was dirty
underwear everywhere. On the bunks, on the eighties radio, even on
the air conditioner.

Also, the room was packed. And loud! It was
like entering a dance party. Half the lights were off and the
latest pop music was pumping out of the stereo. This mixed in with
the stench of sweaty teenage boys dancing and dirties underwear,
resulted in me wishing I could live in the trash.

“Why would you want to live in the trash?”
Asked a teenager, about a year older than me. He had signs of a
beard. I guessed he was south Asian.

Realizing that I had spoken aloud, I fretted
to correct myself. “I said...um...This is a lot better than trash
place I used to live in!”

The boys accepted my answer and carried on.
Except for the Asian kid. I saw intelligence beneath his dark brown
eyes.

Waving a strand of black hair out of his face,
he came over.

“Hi!” He said, “I’m Sanjit!”

“Darryl.” I said, shaking his hand.

“What grade are you in Darryl?”

“Eighth.”

“Really? Me too!”

I was taken aback by his answer. I was sure he
was fifteen. “Really! How old are you?”

“Twelve.” He said, in a
that-is-the-most-obvious-thing-in-the-world type of
voice.

I was smart, but even I wasn’t twelve in
eighth grade. Sure I was in eleventh grade math and English. And in
all the other academics. Except for French. In my school we don’t
skip grades without one hundred percent in every
subject.

“
You look older.”

“
I know!” Sanjit said
sadly.

“
Why are you sad?” I asked,
astonished that this was bad. I knew how angry Harrison got because
he was shorter than everyone else.

“I have no friends in my school. Everyone in
my grade is older than me and they think I’m weird.” He said,
crestfallen.

“Well you do now!” I said, in a fake tone of
cheerfulness. I find it hard to make friends, let alone be one. But
Sanjit looked so happy I left my thoughts. After all at three
forty-five p.m. on June nineteenth I would be officially two years
older than him.

“When’s your birthday?” I asked

“June eighteenth, at one twenty-two a.m.” He
said, proudly.

“Really!” I asked. Perhaps he was a
psychic.

He nodded. “Why?”

“Because that means that I’ll never be more
than two years older than me.”

His face lit up. I wondered why he welcomed
the fact so greatly. “On Friday’s we have wrestling. No one’s in my
age group, so I’m not apart of it.” He said, “I get latrine
duty.”

“Well not anymore!”

I desperately wanted to go back. I’m not a
fighter! And I especially didn’t want to fight my new best friend.
But he looked so excited that I reluctantly climbed into my tight
fitting wrestler uniform.

I looked like a tomato. I had on a goofy red
helmet, those blue teeth protector things and I was wearing a
skintight bright red uniform. It was humiliating.

I watched the fights, wishing I had Harrison’s
melting ability. Or even better, invisibility!

I stepped on to
the makeshift ring. Sanjit had a goofy look on his face. I
sighed.
Let’s get this over with.
I thought. Thomas blew the whistle. His grey eyes
looking on in excitement. Sanjit and I circled each other. Then,
without any warning he charged.

I moved to the side. Sanjit ran straight off
the mat. I was pleased that I might win without hurting
him.

Thomas blew the whistle once more. This time
as soon as the whistle was blown he ran straight at me. I panicked
and uselessly held my hands out in front of me.

I was down on the ground before I knew
it.

I was ashamed.

In the final round, after the whistle was
blown, I circled Sanjit quickly. I randomly went in opposite
directions, hoping to confuse him. Instead, my head felt dizzy and
just before I stumbled, Sanjit ran over and pinned me to the
ground. I distantly heard the sound of Thomas saying, “One….
Two…Three! You’re out!” But my head was too far away to pay
attention. I remember Sanjit getting off me. After that there was
blank nothingness.

I woke up on a stinky bed that smelled of
urine. I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to rid myself
of the spell of nausea and dizziness. The nurse noticed that I was
awake and came over.

Her nametag
read:
KATE

My first thought of her was that she was the
first person without dyed hair since I got here. My second thought
was wow! Her black, shiny hair was done in a bob form, and her
silver eyes were like two full moons. When she spoke it was like
listening to a hundred mice squeak at the same time.

“
Good to see
you’re awake!
”
She squeaked. “Those wrestling matches must end!!” She rubbed
her temples, as if she
h
ad a headache. “Every day!
Concussions, broken legs, bruised butts! Do I need to go
on?”

I shook my head. My mind was trying to process
what she said. Concussions? Broken legs? This couldn’t be the
Family for Troubled Kids.

“
OH this isn’t the FTK by the
way,” She said, as if reading my mind, “We’re at Hope
Hospital.”

“
Wait the hospital?” I asked,
astonished.

She laughed in a sort of hyena way, “Of course
silly! Tabitha couldn’t handle an unconscious boy!”

“
Wait!” I said, “I was
unconscious?”

“
Well of course!” She squeaked.
“What do you think happened?”

To be honest, I had no idea. I couldn’t
remember a thing. “I don’t know.” I said.

“
I would expect so.”

“
I’m hungry!” I said, suddenly
recognizing my hurting stomach, for pangs of hunger.

“
Well I would think so!” She
admonished. “What being knocked out for two days!”

“
What!” I had sudden fumes of
anger towards Sanjit.

But my anger was quickly replaced by my
desperation for food, as she placed a giant plate of food in front
of me. It was loaded with roast potatoes, two giant chicken
drumsticks, a handful of vegetables and a lake of gravy slathered
on top.

Usually I would of turned my nose at the
vegetables, but this time I was so hungry I didn’t care.

I piled food into my mouth. I was soon done
and asking for a second helping.

In the end, I had eaten three helpings of food
and six cups of chocolate milk.

Sighing contently, I laid back into a sleeping
position.

But a boy interrupted my visions of
sleep.

He poked his head inside the door and I caught
a flash of black hair and a glimpse of dark brown eyes.

It was Sanjit.

Harrison

XIII

“
They caught my Mum yesterday.”
Darryl informed me, with a neutral tone in his voice.

“Aren’t you sad?” I asked disbelievingly. I
know I would feel terrible if Mum went to jail.

“Not really,” he said, “We weren’t exactly
best buddies!” His voice was dripping with too much excess
sarcasm.

“Oh.” I said.

He sighed and adjusted his position on the
hospital bed.

I don’t usually mind hospitals, but this place
was eerily quiet. It made me wonder about the quality of the
service here.

But Darryl didn’t seem to mind so it must be
okay. But then again his mother was evil and he’d lived in tiny
houses for years.

“So, how’s school?” Darryl asked, interrupting
my conscious-self wars.

“Only you would think of that!” I informed
him.

He shrugged, and looked at me
pointedly.

I sighed. “Same old, same old.” I
said.

Darryl looked pleased with that answer. I
shook my head, reminding myself that this was the guy who punished
himself for getting anything less than his favorite number, one
hundred and three. In school all his marks had to be at least one
hundred and three percent.

Darryl opened his mouth as if he wanted to say
something, when Nurse Kate walked in. She smiled at me, making my
stomach happy with queasiness, and gave Darryl a tray of
food.

“
Do you want some?” She squeaked
at me.

I looked at Darryl happily enjoying his tuna
sandwich and shook my head.

“
No thanks,” I told her, “I don’t
like tomatoes.”