Yikes, this was barf-worthy stuff! I’d created a monster!
“ . . . and your silky-smooth fur coat!”
Fur coat?
I tiptoed out into the hall, nudged Brad’s door open a crack, and peered inside.
Tina’s crib was empty. The baby wasn’t even in the room. Brad sat on the bed, his arms around Beatrice’s bushy form, goo-gooing at his chow chow. And Beatrice seemed totally into it, sitting stock-still and gazing up at her owner with liquid eyes.
So that was how it was going to be. Brad would never follow the advice of his wing-nut, eighth-grade, civilian brother-in-law—not for humans anyway. My guidance was fit only for the dog.
And you know what? It worked. From that day forward, Beatrice forgave Brad. She abandoned me completely and followed him around everywhere, wagging and licking.
There was no explanation for it. Nothing changed. Except for the baby talk, Brad wasn’t acting much differently toward her. She still wasn’t allowed to get too close to baby Tina. A door just opened, and Beatrice went through it. And because she was a dog, there was no way to ask her about it. Dogs’ behavior would always remain a mystery like that.
Come to think of it, people’s behavior didn’t make much more sense. For instance, all of Hardcastle had idolized Noah when they believed he’d saved the Mercury house. But now that they knew it was me, nobody thought it was very important anymore. What changed? It was almost as if they’d used up all their admiration on Noah, and they didn’t have any left for the real guy.
If anything, the kids at school were kind of annoyed with me. Like they’d had an idea in their heads, and I’d spoiled it. Noah had once told me that there was no contradiction in being the superkid without having ever saved anything. I hadn’t taken it seriously at the time, but now I was starting to see his point. For sure, the reverse was true. I had done all the things that had catapulted Noah to superkid fame, and I was still about as un-super as you could get.
Kandy appreciated me, even if nobody else did. We were brothers across the species line. He was the canine version of an ungifted guy like me. Someday, I might even get him paper-trained. I wasn’t holding my breath, though.
Okay, I was. But only at times like now, when I was cleaning up one of his messes. Actually, the weird part was I didn’t mind all that much. Let Brad have Beatrice; Kandy would always be mine.
“Donnie—” Katie appeared in the doorway with the ever-present Tina on her shoulder.
“What’s up?”
I noticed that my sister was wearing the HARDCASTLE CHEER sweater again. Not her old one from high school. This was a gift from—of all people—Megan Mercury. Apparently, Katie used to be her cheerleading idol back in the day. Go figure.
“Brad needs you outside,” she told me.
“For what?”
“Do I look like his secretary?” she asked. “Go ask him yourself.”
I sighed. There was no point in putting off Brad. Tank commanders were used to being obeyed. If you didn’t shake a leg, pretty soon he’d come in and shake it for you.
So I dragged myself downstairs, Kandy tripping at my heels. I stepped out the front door.
And froze.
Brad stood there, all six foot four of him, ramrod straight. He was in full dress blues, complete with white gloves and a sword tucked under his left arm. His hat was a little battered, courtesy of Kandy. But the whole effect was still pretty impressive.
He barked, “Atten-hut!”
That was when I saw the others. The cheerleaders, in uniform, were lined up like an honor guard—including Noah, who was at attention, and not praying-mantis-like at all. Off to the side, the Daniels were leaning on each other and grinning at me.
“What’s this about?” I asked Brad.
“Donovan James Curtis!” Brad boomed. “For conspicuous bravery diverting a propane tanker from colliding with a home, showing no regard for your own life and safety . . .” He reached into a velvet box and took out a round silver medal on a pale blue ribbon.
I gawked. “Whose medal is that?”
“It’s yours, dummy,” Katie called from the front porch. “It’s the one Governor Holland brought to give to Noah. Brad drove to the state house and explained how it should have gone to you.”
Brad went on, “I hereby act as Governor Holland’s proxy as I present you with the State Youth Award for Valor and Community Service. Congratulations.”
Kind of embarrassed, I bowed my head as he placed the ribbon around my neck. It itched through my T-shirt. In the background, I could hear the Daniels snickering.
“I’m not really the medals type,” I mumbled to Brad.
“Well, get used to it. You deserve this, Donnie. Most guys would have stood there and watched that truck hit that house and explode. Maybe me, for one. I don’t know if that makes you a superkid, but you’ll always be super in my book.”
Funny—I never cared much about Brad’s opinion of me before. But when a real hero thought you were a hero too, that meant a lot. I didn’t realize how much.
For a guy who wasn’t gifted or super, I felt pretty supergifted just then.
28
JUST PLAIN SUPER
NOAH YOUKILIS
I found the envelope in a stack of old mail on the kitchen counter. It was addressed: To the Parents of Noah Youkilis and the letterhead was from Hardcastle Middle School. At first I thought it must have been the official notification that I was kicked out. But then I saw it was postmarked two days before the governor’s visit.
I slid the letter out and read it.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Youkilis,
This is to inform you that, due to disappointing academic performance in his current placement, your son Noah has been recommended for remedial classes . . .
The letter blurred as my eyes filled with tears. The joy and wonder that surged into my heart were like nothing I’d ever experienced before, not even when I watched my first YouTube video.
Remedial classes! Oh, sure, it had come too late. But that didn’t change the fact that I’d done it!
If I could qualify for remedial classes with a 206 IQ, then I was a new and truly original kind of superkid!
No gifted program could hold me down. For Noah Youkilis, the sky was the limit.
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About the Author
GORDON KORMAN wrote his first book at age fourteen and since then has written more than eighty-five middle grade and teen novels. Favorites include the New York Times bestselling Ungifted and the Masterminds series, as well as the teen novel Pop. He lives with his family on Long Island, New York. You can visit him online at www.gordonkorman.com.
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Books by Gordon Korman
Masterminds: Payback
Masterminds: Criminal Destiny
Masterminds
Ungifted
Pop
Credits
Cover art by David Miles
Copyright
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
SUPERGIFTED. Copyright © 2018 by Gordon Korman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2017938673
ISBN 978-0-06-256384-2 (trade bdg.)
ISBN 978-0-06-256385-9 (lib. bdg.)
EPub Edition © January 2018 ISBN 9780062563873
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Gordon Korman, Supergifted
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