SuperZero (school edition) Read online

  Then he saw it. The wooden legs of the stepladder had been smashed but the lower step of the ladder was intact. If he could grab that step, then he could reach forward and jam it in between those jaws …

  But it was out of reach. The crocodile kept twisting away to the right, turning in circles like a monstrous dog after its own ghastly tail. The smoke swirled more thickly.

  Zed reached forward. He slapped his hand over the crocodile’s eye, cold and wet against his palm like a furious peeled litchi. Zed was leaning so far forward he was sliding, his heels slipping, and the fingers of his left hand digging desperately between the scales.

  But it was working. Unable to see through its right eye, the crocodile veered left, and as it swung it brought Zed closer to that unbroken step. He waited to be near enough, till he could swing down and scoop it up. It was coming closer, closer, closer.

  Suddenly Zed was plucked from the crocodile’s back. Something was crush­­ing tight around his chest. He kicked and a voice growled: “Stop struggling, squirt!”

  Zed was carried through the smoke, past shadows and grey shapes, out through the back-flaps. Now Zed could see that the band around his chest was an arm. And not just any arm: the bulging copper-coloured arm of Son of Sam, the World’s Strongest Man.

  Son of Sam carried him across the warm-up area, past a stack of tanks and cages. He climbed the stairs of the biggest of the trailers and rapped on the door.

  “Enter!”

  Son of Sam deposited Zed on a plush Turkish carpet. Zed looked up, eyes still watering from the smoke. Before him, resplendent in shiny knee-length boots and spangly red coat, his top hat hanging on a hook in the corner, was the Great Buckman.

  “Just what do you think you were doing out there?” demanded the Great Buckman.

  “I … was saving my friend …” said Zed in a small, bewildered voice.

  The Great Buckman’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh!” he said. “He was saving his friend!”

  Son of Sam shook his head sorrowfully.

  “You weren’t saving anyone!” yelled the Great Buckman. “That’s part of the act! We do that in every new city. There’s a camera-flash, the crocodile breaks loose, the audience screams, the guys get the croc under control, lots of reports, the police want to shut us down, we promise not to do that act again, we have days and days of free publicity! You dope!”

  Zed’s head reeled. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

  “But … but Katey could have been hurt,” he said. “And that other woman.”

  “Bah!” said the Great Buckman. “That woman works for me. It’s her job! She runs around the ring and Chester runs after her. It’s his walkies! Chester wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Zed was stunned. Chester?

  “Now if the media hears some civilian kid was riding round on Chester’s back they’ll shut us down good and proper. You’ll have closed Buckman’s New-Worlde Circus!”

  Zed didn’t know what to say.

  “Did they set the smoke bombs off in time?” Buckman asked Son of Sam.

  Son of Sam shrugged. “Think so.”

  “Maybe we’ll get away with it,” said the Great Buckman. “Maybe. If we’re lucky.”

  Then he glared at Zed. “I’m going to call your mother.”

  Reluctantly, Zed gave the Great Buckman his mother’s cell number. The Great Buckman stalked out. “Make sure he stays here till I get back!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  A heavy silence descended. Zed stared at Son of Sam’s muscles. They were huge, like brown stockings stuffed with pudding. Superheroes are supposed to ripple with muscles. Zed looked at his own little arms. If he didn’t grow some muscles, he wouldn’t get one of those skintight superhero costumes; he’d get something loose and baggy.

  Zed pressed his face against the window. The second half had begun: there was a fanfare and great rounds of cheers. Something caught his eye. A dark figure was sneaking in the shadow of the canopy. A trailer door opened and a sudden shaft of light fell across him.

  It was Ulric Chilvers.

  He stopped opposite a caravan some four or five trailers down. Looking around carefully, he stepped quickly into the pool of weak light and darted across.

  Zed turned to Son of Sam. “Can I … would it be okay if I just go outside for a little bit … ?”

  “No,” said Son of Sam.

  Zed banged his head against the glass. Why would nothing ever go right?

  After reading

  4.

  What does Madame Hoblidaya warn Zed about when she looks at his palm?

  5.

  Explain the strange stunt that Sello performs in your own words.

  6.

  Why was no one in the audience keen to volunteer to help Kimito in her act?

  7.

  Katey volunteers to help Kimito. What does this tell you about her?

  8.

  What seems like a dangerous stunt is really a trick.

  8. a)

  What is the purpose of the stunt?

  8. b)

  What is the smoke used for?

  9.

  What signs are there in this chapter that Zed could be a superhero?

  10.

  Would you say the description of Madame Hoblidaya is stereotypical? Give reasons for your answers.

  Before reading

  1.

  Why is it important for people to listen without asking questions when we have something important to share?

  5. Even superheroes need moms

  Once his mom came to fetch him and took him home, things became even worse.

  “Is it my fault?” she said. “Have I done something wrong? Is that why you’re causing trouble now?”

  “But I didn’t do anything,” Zed protested. “I didn’t …”

  “Please!” said Zed’s mom. “For days you’ve been acting up, sneaking out to the garage, falling off your bike, and today I find your shirt torn up and now here you are, smelling of crocodile. What’s going on?”

  Zed hung his head. He knew that it was against superhero regulations to tell your secret, but he loved his mom. He didn’t want her to worry.

  He drew a deep breath. And he told his mother everything. He told her he thought he might be a superhero.

  He seemed to speak for an awfully long time. His mom listened with eyes growing wider. He described everything that happened, every feeling, every thought. “I don’t know what it means,” he said, “but I know it means something. I know Daniel Dundee burnt down the school. I know he has something to do with Ulric Chilvers, and I know that somehow the circus has something to do with it. But that’s all I know.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I know it’s not much,” said Zed.

  There was another long silence.

  “Actually,” said Zed in a small voice, “it’s almost nothing at all.” He felt a lump in his throat. He felt like crying. “I don’t think I’m a very good superhero,” he said.

  He wished his mom would put her arms around him and rock him as she had when he was little, and say, “Shhh, of course you’re a good superhero. You’re the best superhero ever!”

  But she didn’t. She just sat there, looking at him.

  “Mom?” said Zed hesitantly. “Mom, you believe me, don’t you?”

  “Oh, my boy,” she said softly. “Oh, my boy.”

  And then she did put her arms around him. She pulled him close and stroked his hair and rocked him back and forth, back and forth. And as she rocked him and stroked his hair, she sobbed, softly, as though she would never stop, as though she were sobbing for all the small boys that ever there were, all the small boys who were scared and lonely and missed their fathers. And they sat there together for a very long time.

  After reading

  2.

  Why does Zed decide to tell his mother everything, even his own feelings and his own thoughts?

  3.

  Why does his mother cry after hearing the story?


  4.

  Do you think that Zed has been a superhero in the story so far? Why?

  5.

  Zed’s mom is “sobbing”. Write down a synonym for “sob”. Why is this choice of word effective?

  Before reading

  1.

  What do you think is special about grandmothers?

  While reading

  2.

  What does Zed find out about destiny (the things that cannot be changed in one’s future)?

  6. A place beside the sea

  Zed enjoyed the sun on his cheek. The wind through the open window blew his curly brown hair even wilder and more tangled. He felt good. When he had woken that morning, his eyes scratchy and his heart still heavy, his mom had already made the arrangements. She had taken the day off work and phoned his school and called Grandma to say they were coming to visit.

  It felt good to be in the car with her, racing down the long southbound highway at the edge of the Indian Ocean, while everyone else was back at school. The sky was pale blue and the sea was deep blue and the air was salty and silver.

  After a couple of hours they turned off the highway and drove along a narrow road through green bushes, then a dirt road through overhanging trees. Red flowers and yellow bananas flashed in the greenery; there was a smell of living things, of things growing.

  Suddenly there was the sea again, and the house was up ahead, a small white cottage with a pair of shady trees in front. There were no other houses for miles around.

  Grandma was older than Zed remembered, but she was smiling and barefoot and her white hair was long, and that was just like it always was. Zed’s mom and his grandma hugged hello, and held each other a long time and murmured things that Zed couldn’t hear.

  Zed’s mom had left him there. She’d return later to fetch him. After they had talked.

  Grandma had taken a walking stick and a straw hat from a rack inside the door and said: “Let’s walk. It’s easier to talk when you have something else to do.”

  And so they walked together along the golden yellow sands, with the gulls wheeling above them and the sea glittering as though strewn with broken diamonds and the spray rising from the waves in a salty haze. There were pieces of driftwood and broken shells.

  “Your mother wants me to talk to you about these ideas you’re having,” said Grandma after a while. “Do you know why she thinks I should talk to you?”

  Zed shook his head and looked at the sand. He felt embarrassed.

  “She thinks I can help, because I helped before.” She paused to let that sink in. “I helped with your father.”

  Zed looked up sharply.

  “Oh yes. She brought your father to see me, ooh, many years ago, now. Before you were born. She didn’t know where else to turn.” She poked a piece of seaweed with her stick.

  “And I helped, just as I’m going to help you.”

  “You helped?”

  “Mm-hm. You see, your father was convinced that he was a superhero too. He wanted to learn more about himself, but where could he turn? Your mother loved him but she couldn’t understand, so she came to me. Your father and I went for a walk, right here, just like we are doing. And afterwards everything was much better.”

  She stopped speaking for a moment, but they carried on walking.

  “But after he left I felt bad,” continued Grandma. “That talk should have happened years before, when … oh, I suppose when he was your age.”

  She looked down at Zed.

  “I should never have let him grow up like that. You can’t change someone’s destiny. You can try, but all you’ll do is make it more difficult. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Zed.

  Grandma smiled at him. “Yes, you do. You know what’s inside of you. And you know far earlier than your father did.”

  She sighed. She stopped walking. She and Zed faced each other.

  “Your father thought he was a superhero. And he was, just like his father before him, and his father before him. He was a superhero. Just like you are.”

  Zed followed her in a daze. Could she really have said what she just said?

  “Grandma, I don’t understand.”

  “I knew your father was a superhero all the time he was growing up. But I kept it from him. I thought if no one told him, maybe he’d never know. Maybe it would skip him.”

  “But why?”

  “Why? Because what mother would want that for her son? Always in danger, always alone. Misunderstood. People thinking you’re crazy. And besides …” She sighed again. “Besides, superheroes die young. I didn’t want him to die young, like his father.”

  There were small bright tears in her eyes.

  “And that’s why I never told your dad. He was growing up in a normal home without a superhero for a father, without his father’s superhero friends coming round and telling their stupid superhero stories and singing their superhero songs. I thought he had a chance to be normal.”

  Zed didn’t know what to ask first.

  “How did Grandpa die, then?” he blurted.

  “The usual way,” Grandma said. “Supervillain.” She looked at him sharp­ly. “You haven’t run into any supervillains yet, have you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Zed.

  “Supervillains are like superheroes, only reversed. It’s passed down from father to son, just like superheroes. And it starts emerging around your age. Round about now.”

  “But … but why are some people supervillains?”

  “You want me to explain evil? All I know is there are three kinds of wicked­ness in the world. First, people who do harm thinking they are doing good. Second, people who don’t care whether they do harm or not. Then there’s people who enjoy doing harm. Those are the supervillains. Plus, of course, they’ve got superpowers.”

  “What sort of powers?”

  “Each one’s powers are different. Just like superheroes. You don’t know what powers you have yet, do you?”

  Zed shook his head.

  “They’ll come to you as you grow. What you do now, the decisions you make, that will decide the superhero you become.”

  Finally, Grandma had to stop for breath. They surveyed the sea.

  “And my dad? What superpowers did he have?”

  “I don’t know. We never spoke about it.”

  Grandma lapsed into silence. They turned back toward the cottage.

  “So what do I do now?” he asked.

  “Now,” said Grandma, “you grow up. In time, you become a man. And when you’re frightened or confused or just don’t know what is going on, you give your old Grandma a call. I’ll be right here.”

  She put her thin arm around his shoulders and pulled him tight to her side.

  “Never forget – supervillains have an advantage. They don’t play by the rules. They cheat and lurk and do their dirty deeds in darkness. So you must prepare. You must study and gain knowledge. You must be one step ahead.”

  Grandma was tired. She lowered her head and leaned more heavily on him as they made their way back. They seemed so far away from everything, out there on that wild shore, far from the world, far from heroes and villains and choices.

  “Can you refuse to be a superhero?” asked Zed, in a small voice.

  Grandma sighed. “You can try,” she said. “But you can’t fight what’s inside you.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder tight.

  “I feel it in you, boy, what your father and your grandfather had. It burns around you like a white flame. I’m sorry. I wish it weren’t so. But it’s your destiny.”

  After reading

  3.

  Zed’s mother takes him to visit his Grandma. What is her reason for doing so? What happened to Zed’s father many years ago and how did his mother help him?

  4.

  For a number of reasons, Grandma did not tell her son (Zed’s father) that he was a superhero. Which two of these reasons do you think were the most important ones?

  5.

&n
bsp; What is a supervillain?

  6.

  Grandma says that supervillains have an advantage over superheroes, what is it?

  7.

  Grandma mentions three kinds of evil in the world. Which do you think is the worst?

  8.

  Would you like to be a superhero like Zed and his father before him? Why/why not?

  Before reading

  1.

  What has your experience at school been? How easy is it for some children to have a bad influence on other children?

  While reading

  2.

  What evidence can you see of disturbing behaviour in the learners?

  7. A supervillain reveals himself

  The next day came too soon. Zed needed time to think about everything Grandma had said, but when he walked through the school gates, things had changed. His skin tingled with it.

  A row of windows on the second floor had been broken and jagged bits of glass still clung to the frames like a row of open, angry mouths. Kids stood in small groups, talking low, looking nervous. Others drifted through, their eyes darting slyly, hooded expressions on their faces, like wolves circling a field of sheep.

  Zed found Katey. She was humming a tune that seemed strangely familiar, and she didn’t really look at him. He hardly had time to start explaining what had happened at the circus before the morning bell rang for morning assembly.

  Something was troubling Mr Minardi. He kept looking round the hall, as though looking for some clue to what was happening to his school.

  “I don’t understand,” he said at last, “what’s been happening in this school. Windows broken, toilets smashed, graffiti … if anyone knows anything, please come forward.”

  There was silence in the hall. Someone sniggered quietly. Mr Minardi glared.