Free My Brother is a Superhero by David Solomons Page B

She should be forced to wear a warning label: hanging out with this girl may be hazardous to your health.
    She held open the front door. Safety was a few paces away. Thanking her for a lovely day, I scooted past, relieved to be out of there in one piece.
    â€œMonday,” Lara barked, “after school. You and I are finally going to unmask Star Lad.”
    Before I could object, she had turned on her heel and I was left staring at the closed door.
    I’d squeaked through today. Monday didn’t look so promising.

14
WITH ONE BOUND
    “Her bedroom?” quizzed Zack.
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “Fine. Then don’t.”
    “Her actual bedroom?”
    It was later that evening. Zack tripped after me around the kitchen as I gathered ingredients for a milkshake. He had been going on like this for about an hour. I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t as if I’d been to Superman’s Fortress of Solitude or the Batcave. “I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s just a bedroom.”
    “No, no it isn’t. It’s Cara Lee’s bedroom.” He stood infront of me, blocking my way. “So?”
    I dodged round him and hopped up on the counter. “So what?”
    “So … what was it like?!” he snapped.
    “Perfume-y,” I said. “Oh, and she has posters of that singer. Billy Something.”
    “Dark?” There was a wisp of disappointment in his voice. “She likes Billy Dark?”
    “That’s the one. Didn’t you say you hated him?”
    Zack cleared his throat. “I don’t think I said that I hate him. Hate is a very strong word, Luke.”
    I slid off the counter top, confused. “But I remember the conversation we had. We were watching that video of him with the sad giraffe and the hat. Can’t stand him, you said. With his ridiculous stubbly face, terrible songs and stupid hat. Miserable, tuneless twit. Then you said that actually when you came to think about it, you positively, absolutely hated him. With a passion.”
    “Yes, well.” Zack squirmed. “Maybe I was … hasty. Cara really likes him?”
    “Two posters. Right over her bed.”
    “What else?”
    “Nothing much.” I shrugged. “Although it did get interesting when she walked in on us.”
    If Zack had been a cartoon character, his eyes wouldhave been out on stalks. “She was there?!” His face flushed scarlet, much as it had that time I slipped raw chillies into his cheese and pickle sandwich. “Did … did she mention me?” he asked haltingly.
    Cara had indeed mentioned Zack. I believe her exact description of him was “that weird kid who stalks me at school”. I decided to spare him the truth.
    “Yes, she did,” I said. “You’re very memorable.”
    Zack’s face glowed with happiness. “Memorable? She said I was memorable ?”
    Not as memorable as Matthias the Viking, I thought. But kept my mouth shut.
    As Zack mooned about the kitchen mouthing “memorable” and grinning to himself I whipped up a couple of chocolate milkshakes to my own recipe. Eight scoops vanilla ice cream. Splash of whole milk. Mini marshmallows, lightly microwaved. Plenty of whipped cream. And chocolate powder. Not the cheap stuff; I only use Mum’s really expensive Colombian chocolate powder that she keeps in the locked cupboard above the bread bin. I’m not supposed to go near it, but really, can a grown-up truly appreciate a chocolate milkshake the way a kid can? No, of course not. So, you see, it’s not me doing anything wrong, it’s her rule that’s misguided in the first place.
    I plugged in the hand blender and mixed up the ingredients in a large bowl. Most of the mixture stayed in the bowl, although a fair amount ended up spraying the tiled splashback. But then, isn’t that what splashbacks are for? I poured two mugs to the brim and fished out four straws from the drawer. You need two straws in each mug to maximise sucking efficiency. I handed a mug to Zack and sat down at the kitchen table.
    I knew that I should tell him about Crystal Comics and the missing