My Brother is a Superhero Read Online Free PDF Page B

whole bunch seemed to decide it was a very good one, and they all ran towards my brother waving their latest issues of Justice League and X-Men . I tagged along. Not that I was bothered about getting his autograph, I just wanted to make sure Zack didn’t mess up his first contact with the public. As I drew closer I recognised a face among the last passengers to leave the broken bus. It was Cara Lee. Still stunned from her ordeal, as she stepped off she missed her footing and slipped. With a yell, she tumbled right into Star Lad’s arms.
    “I’ve got you, miss.”
    I don’t think Zack recognised her at first, but as he set her back on her feet they were face to face – or face to hoodie – and he saw with a start who it was he’d rescued.
    “Thank you,” she breathed.
    He ducked his head and she shot a curious glance at her hooded saviour, and for a moment I was sure that she’d recognised him as her slightly weird neighbour.
    “Have we met before?” she asked.
    “Uh, I … we … um…”
    Thankfully, at that moment Zack was swamped with people clamouring for his attention and Cara was carriedaway in the crush.
    “Star Lad!” cried one of the comic store boys, brandishing a copy of The Amazing Spider-Man. “You’re … amazing!” he added, rather unimaginatively.
    “Wow! The way you stopped that bus,” said another, mimicking Star Lad’s stance and hand action, adding his own sound effects. “GRRRRAUNCH! You used Gravity Manipulation, right?”
    “No,” said another scornfully, “bet it was Magnetism.”
    “Rubbish,” said the next boy. “It was Wind.”
    The others looked at him questioningly. “Wind?”
    He shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Wind … Control. Obviously.”
    “Why are you wearing a brooch?” asked the red-haired boy.
    “It’s not a brooch,” said Star Lad tightly. “It’s a sigil.”
    “Ooooh,” said all of the comic-store boys.
    The policeman whose hair had been parted by the flying hubcap politely but firmly pushed his way through the excited crowd. He wanted a statement from the hero of the hour. A burly fellow with a red face, he took out a pencil and notebook.
    “Name, please.”
    “Za—” began my brother, then saw me making acut-throat motion. “Star Lad,” he half-screeched, half-growled.
    In the tree house earlier that week we’d discussed how he should talk when he found himself in public as Star Lad. I told him it was important to disguise his voice so that no one could identify him as Zack Parker, and so he tried out a few different voices before settling on a deep, rumbly one. The only problem was puberty. Dad had been right about that – Zack’s voice did change, often in the middle of sentences. It croaked up and down like a frog tied to a firework.
    The constable pulled a face. “Say that again.”
    Under his hoodie I knew Zack was blushing. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Star Lad.”
    The constable scratched a note in his book. “First name, Star. Surname, Lad.”
    Zack started to correct him. “No, I didn’t mean—Never mind.”
    “Would you mind removing your hood, Mr Lad?”
    “No,” said Zack quickly. “I can’t do that.”
    “Why not?” asked the policeman.
    “Uh … um…” he stuttered.
    Uh-oh, I thought. We hadn’t talked about what to do if this happened. Zack was going to blow it – I could tell. In two seconds the world would know his realidentity. I couldn’t look.
    “I’m horribly disfigured,” he said at last. “I fell into a vat of chemicals and my face is, y’know, too ugly to be seen in public. Yeah, that’s what happened.”
    Not bad. Not bad at all. I’d never have thought of that so quickly. I did have one criticism, which was that, traditionally, falling into a vat of chemicals created a supervillain, not a hero, but I’d let that pass.
    “Horribly disfigured, you say?” repeated the policeman, squinting and leaning in to steal a glimpse behind Zack’s hood.
    Zack drew sharply on the