Part 7 (2/2)

Tadpole shot out his tongue and it snaked its way up to the top cutout in the tree, slipping behind the stubborn squirrel. It didn't take Tadpole long to figure out the problem.

”He'th got a peg thtuck behind the thquirrel,” he informed me. ”There'th no way to knock the thing over.”

”Can you remove it?” I asked him.

”Let me thee,” he answered.

I glanced around to make sure that no one was watching. All of a sudden, I could have sworn I saw someone moving about behind the counter where the prizes were kept. At first I thought it must be Fly Guy. I squinted through the brightness at the chaos over by the Hill o' Beans. But Fly Guy was still there, completely tangled in the mess. By the time I glanced back to the counter, whoever I had seen was gone. I didn't worry about it right then, though, because Tadpole yelled proudly, ”I got it. The peg ith looth.”

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Wasting no time, he used his tongue to push the squirrel back onto its trigger and I soon heard five hundred tickets being spit out of the slot in front of me.

”We've got 'em,” I told Tadpole as he put the peg back into place and pulled his tongue back into his mouth.

His timing was perfect. The second Hal's light began to fade, Fly Guy got up off the floor and most of his eyes were on us immediately. All he was able to see, however, was me folding up the wad of prize tickets. I took them straight over to the counter, but as I got there one thing was already clear-the box of card packs had been stolen.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Change Is Good

By the time we found ourselves being tossed out of the arcade, still clutching our five hundred prize tickets, it was nearly six o'clock, and we all had to be home for dinner. We agreed we would regroup tomorrow at school.

As I trudged up the sidewalk to my front door that evening, I felt frustrated and confused. First of all, who stole the box of card packs from Aunty Penny's Arcade? Three times today I thought I saw someone shadowing us. It had happened first at Indestructo Industries, again at Lava Park, and then again at the arcade. No one else had noticed anything, though, so I didn't tell the team.

Second, I was at a complete loss about the third type of rock, metamorphic. Then there was the problem of the Tyc.o.o.n. The fact that he was out there blackening the good name of the Amazing Indestructo was an issue that would have to be dealt with.

Finally, I was feeling a little bit useless. After all, it had been my friends' powers that got us anywhere today. Stench and Plasma Girl had gotten us into Indestructo Industries. Tadpole had solved our squirrel problem. Even Halogen Boy, in his own hapless way, had somehow managed to make our diversion work at the arcade this afternoon.

All in all, I was pretty depressed by the time I came through the door.

”You're just in time, OB,” my mom called from the kitchen. ”Your father and I are setting out dinner.”

As I stepped into the kitchen I saw Dad holding a metal broiling pan in his hands. The steaks on top were nearly done grilling. To be honest, I'm not sure why we even have a stove in our kitchen. I don't think we've ever used it.

”Oh, my. You look so sad,” my mother said as soon as she saw me. ”What's the matter, dear?”

I paused for a second, not sure how to answer that question. Suddenly, I couldn't help it. It all came pouring out.

”The Junior Leaguers have spent all day trying to find the Professor Brain-Drain card, which is the only one we need to complete our AI Collector set, but we found out from this creep called the Tyc.o.o.n who's messing up AI's reputation with all the bad things he's doing in his name that they only made three of them and spread them all over Superopolis in places that have to do with the three types of rock, and we were able to find the card linked with igneous rocks, but this stupid kid ate it, and we found the one that had to do with sedimentary rock, but some creep who I think was following us stole it before we could get it, and now I don't have a clue what location metamorphic rock might be referring to and why does it even matter since I don't have any superpower anyway!”

At least I didn't start crying... .

All right. So I did start crying. Not very much or very long, mind you ... but enough that I couldn't pretend I only had something in my eye.

”OB.” Mom knelt down in front of me, touching my tears with her fingertip. ”Everything will be okay.”

Each of my tears fell to the floor as a small crystal of ice. As I wrapped my arms around my mom and hugged her, Dad knelt down alongside us.

”Don't get down, hero,” he said. ”Let's just go over what happened today and we'll all put our noggins together and help you solve this.”

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I told them everything as we sat down to our dinner of steak and chips. We were having Dr.Telomere's Garlic-and-Onion-flavored chips and they went great with the steak. Oh, yeah, there was a salad, too, since Mom always insists that we have some sort of vegetable. Dad and I would have skipped that part if we could.

When I got to the part about the third type of rock, metamorphic, I was hoping they might have some ideas. Well, they had some ideas, all right. They just weren't ”good” ideas.

”Honey, what do you know about metamorphic rock?” Mom asked Dad.

He sat there sort of blankly for a moment before he responded. ”Well,” he said tentatively, ”I used to know a hero named the Metamorph.”

Both Mom and I nodded expectantly.

”But he changed himself into a c.o.c.kroach and someone stepped on him.”

”Well, that's not very helpful,” my mother said, speaking for both of us. ”But the word metamorphic metamorphic does refer to change.” does refer to change.”

My mom is a lot smarter than she lets on.

”That's true,” I said. ”Metamorphic rock is basically rock that was originally either igneous or sedimentary but changed because of conditions like high pressure or heat.”

”I can show you heat!” my dad said in his booming voice, holding up his fork. Within seconds the metal fork melted and began to drip from his hand. Mom and I both watched politely.

”Do you know what the most common type of metamorphic rock is, OB?” my mother asked, turning back to me.

”I think it's slate,” I answered.

”I think you're right,” my mom said as she gave me a big smile. ”And I don't think there are many heroes in this city who could have answered that question.”

We both glanced over at my dad, who was wiping the last few molten drops of his fork onto his costume, while using his other hand to stuff a bunch of potato chips into his mouth.

”What?” he mumbled innocently.

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