Gus the Mighty: Superhero in the Seventh Grade

By Rick Sand Copyright 2011 Rick Sand. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1: Seriously? Another Bank Robbery?

Stop there, evildoer! I know, I know not the most original, but Ive got too much on my mind today to invest in the typical hero/villain banter I usually enjoy. My life is a total wreck. My whole future is at stake. Things couldnt be worse. I have a math test today and I totally forgot to study. One more D and my moms going to revoke my online gaming privileges for a month. I wont be able to make any raids. Ill never get that epic new bow for my ranger. If that wasnt bad enough, I ran out of Boo Berry cereal, and you can only buy that stuff at Halloween for some reason. Nothing is worse than starting the day with a bowl of oatmeal. Blah! In a nutshell, Im going through a rough patch in my life, so Im not in the mood to deal with another bank robbery. Its Moms fault, really. She plays boring news radio during breakfast each morning. I dont know why we cant just listen to music like normal people. I doubt whoever invented the radio had news programs in mind. Technology is for cool stuff like video games and the internet, not news radio. Anyways, sometimes theres a newsflash about some trouble best suited for a superhero, and thats where I come in. Its kinda my responsibility as the worlds first and only superhero. If I dont race to the rescue, who will? So here I am, face-to-face with a bunch of lame crooks. Responsibility kinda sucks. Oh, come on, one of the robbers says. We came all the way to Springfield just to steer clear of you.

Did you forget about my super-speed? Theres nowhere too far. What kind of newbie criminal are you? Hey, I did three other stick-ups this month before you caught me. I dont believe it. Its true. Name one, I say. Two weeks ago in Cincinnati. Are you sure it was a bank? I didnt hear anything about that. Are you serious? He seems shocked. It was in all the papers. Dude, Im thirteen. I dont read newspapers. I have a hard enough time reading whatever it was I was supposed to read for English class today. Okay okay what about the one three weeks ago in Los Angeles? That one got television coverage. I must have been watching Cartoon Network, I say. Try again? Last week in Chicago? That was you? You bet it was, he says. Me and my boys here. What an idiot. Thanks for the confessions, I say, as the police storm through the door. At least it made for quick work. Nice job, Gus, the police chief says and pats me on the back. Youre the savior of yet another day. Hopefully I still have a chance to save my own day, too.

Chapter 2: My Greatest Nemesis

Youre late again, Mr. Tabernacle, says Mrs. Johnston, my fourth-period science teacher, when I finally make it to school. My full name is Augustus James Tabernacle. I guess my parents knew Id be mighty at birth, so they named me after Augustus, the first emperor of Rome, and James, who was a king of England back when being a king meant something cool. I think James might have also been one of the dudes in the Bible, but Im not sure. I dont read books with that many pages. When I was a kid, Grandpa used to call me Augie. I hate that name. I think it sounds awful. It even sounds like awful. Augie. Awful. Augie. Awful. Close enough. When I was old enough to realize I had some say in the matter, I started going by Gus. Now everyone calls me Gus, except for Mrs. Johnston, who only calls me Mr. Tabernacle. She uses last names when shes upset about something. Shes always upset with me, usually about being late to class. What a stickler. Seriously. She never lets up on me. I am only two minutes late. Whats the big deal? Thats the third time this week, Mrs. Johnston says. Okay, okay, three times, but still I have a good reason, I say. You mean an excuse. I dont get it. Excuse? Reason? Whats the difference? I was stopping a bank robbery.

You always say that. No, I dont. Sometimes Im rescuing people from a fire, or running a bomb to a safe distance, or Yes, yes, yes, says Mrs. Johnston. Are you a police officer, Mr. Tabernacle? Well, no, but Youre a student, she says. I hate when she does that, interrupting me to state the obvious. They had hostages, I say. If I had a nickel for every time youve used the they had hostages excuse, Id have more money than any of those banks. Its not my fault that criminals cant be more original. Its like they all saw an armed robbery on television in the 1950s and never thought of a better way to do it. Time after time, its the same routine. Enter the bank with masks and guns and demand the money. A teller presses the alarm. Police show up. The robbers take hostages. In the end the robbers always lose. I agree with Mrs. Johnston on this one. They need new strategies. Nothing to say? Mrs. Johnston asks. I shrug. What more is there to say? If saving hostages wasnt enough to get me out of trouble for being two minutes late, I cant think of anything that would be. Get to your seat then, she says. Well discuss your tardiness later in detention. Mrs. Johnson is like my arch nemesis. If I was Batman, shed be my Joker. I can take down a half-dozen armed robbers without breaking a sweat, but Mrs. Johnson has one

superpower I cant overcome: a little pink pad of detention slips and a willingness to use them. I take my seat next to Molly. I had my choice of lab partners of course. Being a crime-fighting superhero doesnt hurt ones popularity. Last year I was voted most likely to succeed at averting the inevitable zombie apocalypse. If thats not worth a bazillion popularity points, I dont know what is. But there was never a competition over the empty stool next to mine. In fact, it was never empty to begin with. Molly wouldnt have it that way. She walked in, heard all the chatter over who would sit next to me, and staked her claim. Now, Im not complaining. Mollys been my best friend since before I had superpowers all the way back to the third grade. Id hold any seat in the world for her, which technically I could do. One time I held forty chairs all stacked on top of each other for a charity carnival. I know you go through a lot of different hobbies, Molly says, but I never thought youd start collecting detention slips. Molly, by the way, thinks shes funny. Not just ha-ha funny. More like LOL funny. Whats so funny about detention? She laughs at her own joke. I roll my eyes at her. Oh, come on. Dont get mad. Im just teasing, Molly says. You tease me all the time. Me? I act shocked and offended. Of course, she is right. I tease her all the time. Yes, you, Molly says. So are you going to tell me about your latest heroic adventure?

Oh, just your typical bank robbery. Nothing exciting, I say. How about your day? Anything interesting? Well, Molly says. I woke up, got dressed, came to school, and now here I am, listening to Mrs. Johnstons latest lecture on the texture of rocks. I bet I can make a diamond out of coal with my bare hands. Didnt Superman already do that? Thats where I learned it. Great minds think alike I guess. Mrs. Johnston walks around the room passing out last Fridays quiz. Molly got an A, as usual. I got a C-, also as usual. Molly glances over at my paper. Do you think Superman got C-s, too? I roll my eyes again, fold the quiz, and hide it behind a disorderly mess of other papers I stash in my folder. I have a great filing system. As on top, Bs below the As, Cs below Bs, and the rest go to a very special filing cabinet commonly known as the trashcan. Sometimes Mrs. Johnston finds my papers in the trash though, and saves them for parent-teacher conferences, so she can get me in even more trouble. Listening to Mrs. Johnstons lecture on limestone was about as interesting as watching two rocks race the fifty-yard dash. Maybe Im being melodramatic, but seriously this woman is BORING. By the end of class, Im asleep at my desk. Mrs. Johnston would have given me another detention slip, but shes already got me booked for the next week and a half as it is. Instead, she throws the gaze of eternal death at me. Thats what I call it.

Gaze of eternal death? Molly asks as we walk to fifth-period English. Stating the obvious, dont you think? I dont see how. If it was so obvious, wouldnt I understand what shes talking about? Death IS eternal, Molly says, when she realizes Im not going to figure this out anytime soon. Its not like you can come back to life. How do you know thats not one of my superpowers? You cant dodge death. No one is that super, Molly says and looks awfully sad about saying it. Thats a girl for you, getting emotional over everything. Like dying is something either of us needs to worry about. I can eat bullets for breakfast. Nothing can hurt me, and as long as Im around nothing can hurt her either.

Chapter 3: Why I Need a Cell Phone

I stop at my locker to switch out some books, and Roy Baxter walks over. Good pal that Roy. My parents say hes a little slow though you know, in the brain. Our teachers call it developmentally challenged. I dont see it. We get along just fine, Roy and I. Roy may be a little slow, but Im super-fast, so the way I see it, we balance out just right. Add us up together and you get two normal kids. As much I love being a superhero and a superstar, it sure is nice to have someone to be normal around. How are you, Roy? Okay, he says with a shrug. Roy does that a lot, the shrugging. No idea why. Want to shoot some hoops later? Okay. You talk to Melissa lately, Roy? Molly asks. She let me borrow a pencil yesterday, Roy says. I think she likes you, Molly says. Dont listen to her, Roy, I say. Girls are nothing but trouble. Yeah, they have cooties, Roy says. I taught him that. Seriously? Molly asks, staring at me. You taught him that girls have cooties? Whoa! Did she read my mind or something? Quit looking so shocked. Youre the only one he hangs out with. It had to be you.

Guilty as charged. What could I say? When shes right, shes right. Its not like I can lie about it. Superheroes dont lie. Its in the handbook. When the bell rings, we all glance up to the clock in terror. Going to be late for another class and this time without any excuse. I grab hold of Molly and Roy and zip down the hall at lightning speed. Mr. Hannigan calls me to the desk. Will it ever end? Youre late, Gus, Mr. Hannigan says. Im sorry, sir. Dont apologize to me, boy, he says, and then points out the window. Apologize to the folks trapped in that burning building. You better hurry, if you plan on saving their lives. In an instant Im out the door, down the stairs, out the main entrance, and down the block. Firefighters are already on the scene hard at work. Youre late! Chief Lieber shouts. Its not like I have super-hearing. How am I supposed to know when theres danger if no one tells me? Things would be easier if Mom would just let me have a cell phone already. She thinks it would interfere with my schoolwork, because Id be texting Molly and Roy all the time. Nonsense, I say. Mobile games though might be a problem. I race around back and borrow one of the neighbors swimming pools. Its quite a balancing act, holding it steady over my head. I might have spilled a few drops. Using all my strength, I leap thirty feet into the air and pour the pool of water onto the blazing rooftop. A cloud of steam brushes my face. When the smoke clears, theres some visible damage but everyone is safe, including a fresh litter of pups the owners are raising. More

fodder for the papers: Boy Hero Saves Newborn Pups! Saving animals always gets me more press than saving people.

Chapter 4: How Seventh Grade Complicated My Life

Blah! I failed that math test miserably. I only knew one answer and that was my name. What do I need to know this stuff for anyways? Im thirteen. The only thing I need to know about probability is that Ill probably fail this class. See how easy that is? I didnt even need a calculator. So why does school always have to make it harder than it is? Molly doesnt bother asking how I did. She can tell just by looking at me. My head is drooping like a horse at a watering trough. Roy doesnt really pick up on body language though, so he asks, Did you get an A? I just sigh; a long deep sigh like its my last breath in life. Did you get an A? Roy asks again. No, Roy. I did miserably. You just need a cookie, Roy says. Cookies are Roys solution to all the problems of the world. War, disease, hunger... you name it. Roy would cure it all with a plate of Oreos and a cold glass of milk. It might work for hunger, but how many cookies can even a starving person eat before getting all queasy? Youll do better next time, Molly says. I never really understand why people say that. Its not the next time that Im worried about. I mean maybe I should be, but Im living in the moment here, not the future. This

fat red F seems like the end of the world right now. An A++++ three weeks from now isnt going to fix things today. Molly puts her hand on my shoulder. Its a comfort gesture. It gives me butterflies in my stomach. Yeah, Im not afraid to admit it (at least to myself). I have a ridiculous crush on my best friend. I blame middle school. I never thought about such things until we entered the seventh grade. Seventh grade complicates everything! It started about two weeks ago when Sue Snodgrass was hanging up posters for the seventh grade dance. Boy ask girl. If it was girl ask boy, I know Molly would ask me. At least I think she would. Im pretty sure. Like 92% sure. So its only proper I ask her to the dance. Anyways, these things have a romantic mood. Slow dancing and love songs and dim lighting and all that. Ive seen them on television. I know what Im in for. Molly and I have never been romantic, unless you count those Valentines Day cards they make you hand out to every member of the class back in the elementary school days. We hang out a lot, but thats because were friends. Shes not my girlfriend or anything. Obviously, Im not opposed to the whole romance thing (at least when it comes to Molly). My problem is I dont know what SHE thinks. Does she want that? Girls are hard to figure out. Like if it was girl ask boy, sure, shed probably ask me, but that doesnt mean as much as a boy asking a girl. Girls can ask anyone as friends. Girls even dance with other girls at these things. Girls do everything together (even go to the bathroom).

When a boy asks a girl to do as much as ride a swing together though, its perceived as a marriage proposal. So how do I ask her to the dance that I know the entire seventh grade class will consider a date when I dont know for sure that Molly wants to go on a date with me? Up until now I spent years calling her a booger-face and repeating girls... yuck! like it was my catchphrase. Probability cant be in my favor on this one. Again, no calculator required. Im going to ask Melissa to the dance, Roy says, while staring at one of Sues lopsided posters. I think thats a wonderful idea, Roy, Molly says. Shes awfully encouraging. I hope she doesnt lead the poor kid down a road to heartache. Who are you going to ask, Gus? Roy asks. Mollys staring at me like I have a face full of peanut butter and jelly. I run my hand across my face to check just in case. Um... I hadnt given it much thought really, I say. Yeah right. Its all Ive been thinking about. Molly looks away. I dont really know what all this means. I suppose she could just be stretching her neck or saw something interesting down the hallway. There is this case full of shiny sports trophies nearby. Mollys not really into sports though. She hates them. Barbaric she calls them. I hear people say that about football and boxing all the time, but what exactly is barbaric about badminton? She somehow even managed to get permanently excused from gym class. Not even I can do that and Im like the last person who needs it. I can lift cars with one hand. Real cars. Big ones. SUVs. Gas Guzzlers as Dad always says. Hes one of those environmentalists. People call him a tree-hugger. I

never saw him hug a tree though. Molly says its just an expression. People say goofy things sometimes. Maybe she looked away because she was disappointed that I didnt say I was going to ask her. Could that be it? It would be great if it was. Well, not great that shes disappointed. Great that she wants me to ask her. That would mean she feels the same way I do. Ugh! How do I know for sure?

Chapter 5: Larry the Schemer

Seventh-period gym is the worst time of the day. Today were spending the whole period just running laps around the building. Its not exactly the most entertaining activity for a guy who can run a mile in 15.6 seconds. Sometimes I feel like Im a rat in a maze and the gym teachers just like to observe how fast I can move. At least the rat gets a piece of cheese as a reward afterward. I get detention with Mrs. Johnston. As Im turning the corner to start my twenty-seventh lap, I nearly trip over Larry Miller, who is trying to carry a medicine ball across the football field. The cloud of dusty wind trailing behind me blows by and causes him to drop the ball. Larry sighs as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. I stop to see if hes okay. Hey, Super Brat. We meet again, Larry says. Hey, Larry. What you up to? Concocting my newest scheme for world domination, Larry says through an asthmatic wheeze. Same old thing then, eh? Cant stop until I win. Larry calls himself the Schemer. Its his super-villain name. Weve been in what he likes to think is a war for years. Larrys always been trying to conquer something. Hes quite the go-getter. Its really some sort of obsession. My mom thinks he has something called Asperger Syndrome, because hes so single-focused. End of the world

this, world domination that. Its all he knows or cares about. Well that and Leslie Perkins, but she isnt into guys who want to destroy animals. Larry doesnt really understand that destroying the world means destroying the animals, too. I dont really understand why Leslie is more concerned about the life of a beaver than her own. Larry picks up the huge heavy ball, walks two feet forward, and drops it again. Do you need some help? I asked. I could carry that ball with one finger. The real trick would be balancing it. Nah, Larry says. A great conqueror must face many trials on the way to world domination. I must do this alone. Who talks like that? Well, you could at least make it easier on yourself by rolling the ball instead of carrying it, I say. Larry drops the ball one last time and gives it a push instead. It rolls a few feet and stops. Oh, that is easier. Anything I can do to help, I say. What do you plan to do with the medicine ball anyways? Set a trap to ensure your defeat, Larry says. Duh. What else? Oh, right. I keep forgetting were enemies. Well, best of luck to you, I say and sprint off to finish another ninety-three laps before detention.

About the Author

Rick Sand self-published his first middle grade eBook, "A Lost and Found Land" in April 2011. Gus the Mighty: Superhero in the Seventh Grade is Ricks second novel, inspired by his longtime love of comic books.

If you enjoyed reading this excerpt, please purchase the remainder of Gus the Mighty: Superhero in the Seventh Grade for just $0.99 at the following online retailers: Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006CPUL3I Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gus-the-mighty-rick-sand/1107712714

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