We all groan. This is painful. That toss was at least a foot off. He’s worse than me!
Again, William collects the ball and throws it to Todd. Todd looks over at Autumn. The cheer squad starts again. I’m starting to feel really bad for Todd. How long is he going to do this? Maybe it would be best to stop him? To save him from feeling like a failure. Maybe I could yell something like, It’s getting late! We need to get going! But he’s standing in front of the hoop again.
He aims, shoots, and …
The ball goes right through. A shiver darts up my spine. “Woo-hoo!” I cry. Everyone goes nuts. Even Autumn.
Todd begins to move, dribbling here, dribbling there. He shoots again and it goes in. And again. After the tenth basket, I take a break. I mean, I can only cheer for so long before my throat starts to burn. After the twelfth basket, everyone stops. Todd gets some pats on the back and a couple of handshakes, and the cheer squad leaves. When Todd runs over to us, his face is sweaty, his eyes on fire. “That was the best,” he says. “I did it!” Then he puts a hand on Autumn’s shoulder. “Thanks, Autumn.”
Wow, I’ve never seen Autumn’s face turn that red. Chili pepper red! “It was William’s idea,” she says, looking away.
“Hey, William,” Todd calls. “How did you know about … what did you call it?”
“Exposure therapy,” Autumn says.
“Yeah, how’d you know about exposure therapy?”
William doesn’t say anything. Todd sets the basketball back on the cart. “He probably learned about it from a psychiatrist,” I whisper to Autumn. She nods. Then I wonder if coming to my sleepover is part of William’s exposure therapy. That’s an interesting twist. My mixed-up sleepover might actually help someone get better?
“Once my hands stopped shaking, I was okay out there,” Todd says. “I’m gonna tell Coach about this. I’m going to tell him how I’ve been feeling. I mean, I know I’m not cured, but if I tell Coach, then maybe he’ll put me into the game just a few minutes at a time. Or maybe he’ll let me practice in front of a crowd. Will you guys help me?”
“Sure,” Manga Girl says. Autumn nods.
“How ’bout you, cuz?”
“Yeah, okay.” I imagine Autumn and me dressed like cheerleaders. Manga Girl, too, only her outfit has a cape. As I’m wondering if William would want to join our squad, a ball comes flying at my face.
“Think fast!”
I grab the ball that Todd’s thrown at me. I’m not sure what I’m doing—I think it’s called traveling—but I’m heading for the basket. Everyone’s on the court now, even William. We play a really terrible game, probably the worst game ever played in the history of basketball. Todd’s laughing, but not in a mean way. Autumn’s so short her ball doesn’t even get close to the net. So before she can protest, Todd scoops her onto his shoulders and charges. She scores!
“Hey, you kids!” A janitor walks in, pushing a trash can on wheels. “You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out before I call security.”
“Sorry,” I call as we scramble toward the exit. We’re all smiling, even William. Did we just have fun? Manga Girl grabs her sketchbook, then whooshes past me, leading the way.
“Wait, I forgot my ingredient,” Todd says. He looks around. Then he grabs a half-eaten box of popcorn.
We are back outside. We escaped the grumpy janitor. The excitement of the basketball game fades away. We stand on the steps. The concrete is wet, though the rain has stopped. William, who was so busy with the basketballs, is once again sullen and looking at his feet. Todd sticks the popcorn container into his backpack.
“Wait, you’re really taking that? You can’t put popcorn in soup,” I tell him.
“Why not?” he asks. “It’s just corn.”
“Yeah, but it’s used corn. Someone else was eating it.”
Todd reaches into the backpack, grabs a few kernels, and shoves them into his mouth. He chews and swallows. Then his eyes bulge out, and he grabs his throat. “Ack! I just ate used corn.” He starts laughing. I don’t flinch. If he wants to get poisoned, that’s his business. But I’m not going to eat that stuff. “So, who’s next?” he asks.
“I’ll go next,” Manga Girl says. And with a sweep of her cape, we’re off.
18
Uncle Galaxy
We’ve got a break in the rain. Patches of sky peek out between gray clouds. According to Tutu, the clouds are the land of the Hawaiian gods. That never made much sense to me. Why would the gods live in the sky when Hawaii is supposedly so beautiful? I’d choose white sandy beaches and warm ocean water over rain-filled clouds any day, but I think most people in Seattle would say that.
It’s just starting to get dark, but not quite dark enough for headlights. Tutu loves this time, between day and night. She often sings a song called “Hawaiian Twilight.”
Sun is sinking in Hawaii
Little birds are in their nests
I wonder if Tutu is still sleeping, or if she read my note. Good thing I turned off the stove. This scavenger hunt is taking a lot longer than I expected.
Because we all have bus passes, we jump onto a 60. Then we get off on East John Street and Broadway. With a series of whooshes, Manga Girl leads us down the road. The good thing is, nobody really seems shocked by a girl in a red cape whooshing down the street. Capitol Hill is filled with all sorts of odd characters. In just three blocks, we pass a bearded man wearing lipstick and a skirt, a girl walking a rabbit on a leash, and a group of musicians beating drumsticks on buckets.
We stop outside a store called Uncle Galaxy’s Comics. I’ve seen this store, but I’ve never gone inside. I’m not into superheroes. I like stories about real people, with real problems. Come to think of it, my current situation would make a good story. “It’s closed,” I say, pointing to the sign.
Manga Girl knocks on the door. “My uncle owns the place, so he’ll let us in.” She knocks again.
“Uncle Galaxy is your actual uncle?” Todd asks. She nods.
The door is opened by a short, fat man in a Batman shirt. He’s twisted and piled his dreadlocks on the top of his head in a big knot. Swirly tattoos run down his left arm, and he wears two little hoop earrings. “Hi, Uncle Galaxy,” Manga Girl says.
“Hi, Tanisha. I closed early so I could do inventory. Come on in.” He waves us inside.
It’s a small shop, crowded from floor to ceiling with comics, board games, bobbleheads, superhero action figures, that kind of stuff. Like most of Seattle, the shop smells like coffee. But it also smells like BO, probably from Uncle Galaxy’s armpit stains.
We stand in front of a glass counter where all the trading cards are displayed. Uncle Galaxy squeezes behind the counter. Then he holds up a drawing. “Look, Tanisha, I got it framed.” It’s a black-and-white drawing of a girl with a cape, a coffee cup in one hand and rain clouds in the other. The caption reads: Super SeattleGirl. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Whoa, you drew that?” Todd asks.
Uncle Galaxy smiles. “She’s had two cartoons published in the Seattle Weekly.”
I admit I’m impressed. I don’t know anyone in the sixth grade who’s been published. And who can draw like that.
Uncle Galaxy hangs the picture back on its hook, then sits on a stool. “So, are these your friends?” he asks.
“No, they’re not my friends,” Manga Girl answers.
Jeez, that’s kind of rude, I think. But I don’t feel insulted. She’s only telling the truth. Sure, we just played basketball, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to start hanging out.
“Not your friends?” her uncle asks.
“We all got invited to the same sleepover. That’s why we’re together.” She looks through the glass. “You got any new Critter League packs?”
“Next week.” Uncle Galaxy scratches his big belly. “So, aren’t you going to introduce me to these people who are not your friends?”
“Yeah, okay.” Manga Girl points at me. “That’s Leilani. She calls me Manga Girl
behind my back.” I gulp, then try to look innocent. “She’s the one who’s having the sleepover, but she didn’t want to invite us. There was a mix-up with the invitations. We’re on the ‘DO NOT invite’ list, and those got mailed instead of the ‘DO invite’ list.”
I cringe. How can she possibly know about the lists? The only people who know are my mom, Tutu, and Autumn. Autumn would never tell anyone. And my mom and Tutu don’t even know Manga Girl or her family, so they couldn’t have told.
“What’s she talking about?” Todd asks, scowling so hard at me it looks like he has to poop. “You didn’t want to invite us?”
“No. I mean … yes. I mean…” My whole face heats up. I don’t know what to say. Manga Girl is right—we aren’t friends. So what does it matter if they know the truth? Manga Girl was honest with me—she told me she didn’t want to come to my party. She said, in front of everyone, that we aren’t friends. And after seeing that mean comic she drew, why should I protect her feelings? If she wants the truth, I’m happy to admit it. Todd would understand the “DO NOT invite” list because he and I have never really gotten along.
But William is a different matter. In his note, he thanked me for inviting him. According to my mom, he’s never been invited to a sleepover before. There’s no reason to hurt his feelings. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” I say.
“She wanted to invite the Haileys and not us,” Manga Girl tells Todd. “I heard her talking about it.” She points to her fox ears. “I told you, I have superior hearing.”
Wait a minute! So that’s what Manga Girl does when she sits in the corner? “Eavesdropping is rude,” I say, folding my arms real tight. Of course, when I eavesdrop, it’s for a good reason. I need to learn more about the Haileys.
The Haileys. I realize it’s been a long time since I last thought about them. Guess I’ve been distracted or something.
“You shouldn’t listen to private conversations,” I add.
“But that’s how I get my best material.” She pats her sketchbook.
“Mixed-up invitations sounds like an intriguing start to a story,” Uncle Galaxy says with a smile. “But what kind of story? Comedy? Tragedy? Heroic quest?” He looks at Autumn.
Autumn clears her throat. “We’re on a scavenger hunt,” she says quietly.
“Ah, then heroic quest it is.” Uncle Galaxy grabs a pot of coffee and fills a Darth Vader mug. He takes a long sip, then sets the mug on the counter. “You have my undivided attention. Please continue with the introductions.”
“That’s Autumn,” Manga Girl says. “She’s smart and nice. At school, she does whatever Leilani does. She basically lives in Leilani’s shadow.”
“What?” I blurt. Is Manga Girl calling me bossy? I don’t tell Autumn to follow me around, it’s just what she does, because we’re best friends. “Autumn doesn’t…” I look to my right. Autumn happens to be standing next to me, in my shadow, but that’s just a weird coincidence because we’re under a light that’s shaped like a planet and it throws a big shadow. Autumn blinks a few times, but she doesn’t say anything.
“To be in the shadows suggests the power of invisibility,” Uncle Galaxy tells us. “That can come in handy on a quest.”
Wow, Uncle Galaxy and Manga Girl are clearly related.
“And that’s Todd. He’s Leilani’s second cousin, though she never admits it because he’s always teasing and embarrassing her. When he’s not nervous, he’s got perfect aim.”
Uncle Galaxy fiddles with a leather strap that winds around his wrist. “Perfect aim, huh? Well, accuracy is certainly another worthy power.”
“Oh, and he’s also got a crush on Autumn,” Manga Girl adds.
Wait! What?
Autumn takes a couple steps back and tries to hide behind a cutout of Doctor Who. Todd doesn’t deny anything. He just shrugs.
Todd has a crush on Autumn? Of all the girls in school, why does he have to choose my best friend? Is he doing it just to bug me? Poor Autumn. On Monday, we’ll need to figure out a nice way to let Todd know that this relationship isn’t going to happen. We’ll come up with a plan during lunch. But then I remember that Manga Girl will be eavesdropping, so we’ll have to work out the plan after school. A letter might work. Dear Todd, I don’t feel the same way.…
“What about you?” Uncle Galaxy turns toward William. “What’s your superpower?”
William’s still standing next to the door, hands in the pockets of his coat. His face looks extra pale against the dark fur of his hat. His eyes dart around. I wonder if he’s going to bolt. Or find a door to hide behind. But he looks down at his feet.
“That’s William,” Manga Girl explains. “He doesn’t talk much.”
Uncle Galaxy’s expression turns very serious. “Silence can be a mighty powerful force,” he says. “I think the world could do with more of it.”
“Well, from what I can tell, he’ll only talk if he’s standing behind a door,” Manga Girl says.
“That’s right,” Todd agrees.
Uncle Galaxy taps his fingers on the counter. “You know, most superheroes have things they can’t do or things that make them vulnerable. Without adversity or weakness, the hero can’t be challenged. This is known as the supreme ordeal.”
“I can’t drink milk,” Todd says.
Autumn peeks out from behind Doctor Who’s elbow. “I can’t talk in front of groups.”
I can’t get the Haileys to like me, I think, but I’m not going to admit that aloud. “I don’t have a supreme ordeal.”
Manga Girl arranges her cape. “The real Fox Girl can’t outrun dogs.”
“Wolverine can’t defend himself against magnets,” Todd says. Then he and Manga Girl start listing heroes and their weaknesses.
“Badger Girl gets claustrophobic if she tries to tunnel through the earth.”
“Iron Man has a weak heart that has to be reenergized by his armor.”
“Raccoon Girl is vulnerable to fleas.”
Todd and Manga Girl seem to share a common interest. Maybe he’ll change his mind and start crushing on her instead of on Autumn.
Todd points to a shelf above Uncle Galaxy’s head. “And Captain America carries his indestructible shield, which protects him against basically everything.”
At the mention of the shield, William looks up. Uncle Galaxy raises an eyebrow, noticing William’s sudden interest. He pushes his coffee mug aside, then grabs the shield. It’s round, with a big star in the middle, and made of plastic. It’s about the size of a salad plate, something a little kid might use for a Halloween costume. “Here it is, a perfect replica.” He holds it out to William, who takes it and inspects it carefully.
“I’ve got an idea,” Manga Girl says, her fox ears twitching again. “William, what if you had that shield? Then you wouldn’t have to hide behind a door to talk. You could talk from behind the shield instead.”
“That’s an interesting suggestion.” Uncle Galaxy rubs his chin. “In theory, the shield would be better than a door because even someone with X-ray vision couldn’t see through it.”
For a moment, I think Manga Girl has come up with a great idea. A magnificent idea. It makes perfect sense. William wants to hide behind something, and doors aren’t always available. I mean, what if he’s in the middle of a theater and the place catches fire and he needs to yell, FIRE? He’d have to find a door, and by then, it could be too late. But this way he can simply whip the shield out of his backpack.
But William sets the shield on the counter and steps away. He probably made the right decision. It’s bad enough not talking in public, but imagine if he started walking around with a toy shield all the time.
Uncle Galaxy reaches into a drawer and pulls out some fun-size candy bars. “Well, Tanisha, whether these are your friends or not, it would appear you have the perfect crew for your scavenger hunt quest. You have a leader.” He tosses a bar to me. I’m the leader? Yeah, I guess I am. “And a ragtag crew with the special powers of invisibility?
??—a bar to Autumn—“accuracy”—a bar to Todd—“eavesdropping”—a bar to Manga Girl—“and communication.” He tosses the last bar to William. Communication? That makes no sense. “So, for what are you scavenging, and how may I help?”
“We’re making sleepover soup,” Todd says as he eats his Milky Way. I open my Snickers, which isn’t my favorite, but I’m getting really hungry. I wish I had some of those Cheerios. “We each have to get an ingredient from a special place, then we put it in the soup.”
“This is my special place,” Manga Girl says.
Uncle Galaxy smiles. “Well, that does sound like an adventure.” He glances at the clock. It’s shaped like Saturn. “But duty calls. You kids are welcome to hang out as long as you’d like, but I’ve got to get back to work.” He doesn’t ask any more questions about the soup. Maybe a soup-making quest is an everyday sort of thing in a comic book store. “Oh, I almost forgot. That new Critter League hood you ordered came in.” He hands Manga Girl a plastic bag. “Okay, I’ll be in the storage room if you need me.” He puts on a pair of headphones, grabs his coffee, and leaves.
Manga Girl opens the bag and pulls out a black-and-gray hood with fuzzy ears.
“Cool,” Todd says. “Now you can be Raccoon Girl. Try it on.”
“Not now,” she says. She shoves the hood back into the bag.
I nudge Autumn, and we shuffle into the far corner, then huddle in front of a shelf of plastic dragons. “I’ve been thinking … what if I went back to Hailey’s apartment, alone, and told her I didn’t need the elbow macaroni after all?”
“Why would you do that?” Autumn asks. We’re whispering.
“Because it would be an excuse to talk to her again. If I could talk to her, without Todd begging for food and Manga Girl looking all weird, I think she’d see that I’m nice and—”
“Stop it, Todd!” Manga Girl cries. Todd’s chasing her up the narrow aisle, carrying the bag with the new raccoon hat.
“Try it on,” he pleads. “Come on, don’t be shy. You cheered me when I was trying to make a basket. Now I’m cheering you. Raccoon Girl! Raccoon Girl!” Then, with a swift motion, he reaches out, grabs the top of Manga Girl’s fox hood, and yanks it right off her head.