Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 When we got to Divine's, it was brightly lit. Usually Divine's wasn't open after the dinner hour, but Angela made an exception for the start and end of the school year, and during Christmas shopping season. She had hung lights on the wrought iron fence that ran along the sidewalk. They looked like strings of Christmas tree lights, until we got close enough to see something spinning slowly inside the tiny glass globes. Stars and comets and planets.

The gate hung open, and as I started up the flagstone walk, the front door swung open. A couple people noticed there was no one visible in the doorway, and they made "Huh?" and "Whoa!" and other sounds. Nobody freaked out. Maybe they were such movie geeks, so used to special effects and watching behind-the-scenes specials, they just assumed that was another special effect.

Nope, just Divine's Emporium welcoming the new students. I took that as a good sign. The door probably wouldn't have opened automatically like that if there was even one person in the group who didn't quite fit with the spirit of Neighborlee.

I was relieved when the reactions of the people spilling through the doorway into Divine's and immediately spreading out through the rooms were completely positive. No freaking out. No mutters or frowns of disdain. No one giving the telltale signs of discomfort that meant they were already getting hit with the subliminal "go away, you don't belong, we don't want you here" message. Divine's Emporium liked these kids.

The best sign? No one flinched or got wide-eyed or even blinked when Angela just seemed to appear from nowhere. One minute the area behind the counter was empty, the next she was there. Maybe they just assumed she had been behind the counter, bent down and working on something.

Looking back, the signs that everyone belonged should have been a warning. Angela sensed something unusual about us, and I can't fault her for not warning us of impending trouble. All she sensed was the potential, and she spilled out the welcome from Divine's. At that point, the very first day we were all in the dorm, everything was potential and possibility. The choices we made going forward would refine our path for the rest of the year.

"Aren't you supposed to be busy with college activities?" She stepped up and rested her arms on the thick marble counter.

"All moved in and free for the evening." Zach fluttered his eyelashes at her and made his good-doggy-begging gesture, with his hands curved up under his chin.

Angela laughed and reached back for one of the enormous old-fashioned candy jars, where Zach's favorite candy waited. Semi-hard diamonds of salted black licorice. Yeah, sounds kind of yech, doesn't it? I finally gave in and tasted some. Surprisingly good, but still an acquired taste. That broke the ice. Angela got everyone's name as they stepped up and spotted a jar of the candy they liked the best. In all the noise and laughter and chatter, nobody noticed when she reached for a jar before someone asked for it, or knew someone's name before they told her. She asked a few questions and directed people to various rooms where "you might just find something you'll like."

"Very interesting," she commented as she settled down at the little bistro table with me and Clarice and Tyrone after about twenty minutes.

Voices rang through the shop, people calling out to each other that they just had to come see something. I was positive at least one new room had appeared since the last time I was at Divine’s, a week ago, looking for a really cool backpack for going to class. Of course I found it, a combination of army surplus olive canvass with colorful embroidered patches all over it, looking like I had been all over the world. I had the hope that it would turn out like Mary Poppins' bag and hold everything I wanted and needed to put into it. Hopefully with the added benefit of not being any heavier.

"Do I want to know how you gathered so many like spirits in just a few hours, before orientation even officially started?" Angela nodded her thanks as Tyrone took over to empty the tray of our floats made with caramel ice cream and cream soda.

"They're all on the same floor with us," Clarice said.

"Really? What are the odds of that?"

"Pretty big odds," I said, meeting Clarice's gaze. She nodded. As if I really needed permission to tell Angela?

I went on to relate what Pop had learned from Mrs. A, and shared with me, because I had a right to know what people were doing to me and my classmates. Even if that knowledge might skew the results of whatever research the psych professors were doing. Maybe lab rats didn't know what was happening when they ran through mazes and suffered through all sorts of tests and experiments, but we weren't lab rats.

Our club members among the freshmen had discussed the experiment, whether it was weird or dangerous. I thought about pretending to be an anonymous tipster and let the Neighborlee Tattler know what was up. We agreed not to tell anyone before school started, because honestly, what could anyone do about it? Demand to change floors within the dorm? Try to get into different dorms? We basically, and vaguely, agreed to wait to see what happened with the people on our floor and in the dorm before we said anything.

However, this was the perfect time to take the conundrum to Angela. As a guardian of Neighborlee, I had a responsibility to take questionable circumstances to her, or at least present them to other known guardians. Just in case weird things happened from fiddling with demographics, and I was too close to the middle to notice.

"Okay, now that we can see what they did to us, it's kind of weird," Tyrone said. "They sure weren't putting us together with the other geeks and nerds to be nice, so what do they think will happen? Why not other statistics or similarities or whatever you call it? Other than the art and drama kids, we're not grouped together by our majors, like on the other floors and the other dorm. Is it just me, or do you feel like we're being singled out?"

"If you are…" Angela's gaze went unfocused and her eyelids half-lowered.

I could almost hear that sound I sometimes caught just on the edge of sleep, or when it got very quiet inside Divine's Emporium.

Sometimes it was the hint of wind chimes playing in some incredible, vast garden in the very core of the house, as if the walls were thinner than paper, thinner than air. If I turned at just the right angle, I might finally see the garden, and wind chimes made of incredible jewels, with sunshades made of tapestries woven to show otherworldly, ancient scenes. Other times, like now, I had a sense of music being played somewhere far away, just below the audible level, on instruments I had never imagined. This was basically the sound of Angela thinking very hard, and the magic of Divine's Emporium coming into play.

"I must believe that if anything is to come of having so many similar, imaginative souls gathered in one place," Angela said slowly, "then Neighborlee itself might be very glad that several of our own are among them."

Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

Before we left the cafeteria, the Freshman Orientation team got on the loudspeakers and offered us options of what to do that evening. It was a free evening. The official activities started in the morning, including competitions and times for visiting our advisors and checking out different departments, in case people changed their minds about classes once they saw their schedules.

Our group filed out of the cafeteria, and there in the lobby were tables filled with flyers and coupon books for local businesses, and little introductory goodie bags. I felt like I was cheating, getting a goodie bag that was supposed to persuade me to come visit. I knew all the stores in town, after all.

"Divine's has a coupon!" Clarice announced.

Okay, that was too good to pass up.

"What's Divine's," Babbie Winslow asked. She was three doors down from us on the floor, and stood behind us now, looking through her coupon book.

"It's no good telling you. You gotta experience Divine's." I shared a grin with Clarice and we turned around to see if our gang was still in the cafeteria lobby. "Hey, guys, if you haven't heard yet, Clarice and Tyrone and Zach and Aldo and I are from Neighborlee. Instead of going to a movie we've all seen before, how about a walking tour of town before it gets crazy?"

"And use our coupons before other kids get to the stores, and the good stuff is gone?" Sheri Carter said with a chuckle. She riffled her coupon book, and others laughed.

"You can do whatever you want, but you need to find Divine's Emporium before you do anything else. How you survive your first year here will rest on your first impression of it."

"Think they'll be able to see the Wishing Ball?" Clarice asked. Tyrone laughed. Zach and Aldo laughed louder, trying to sound mysterious, when a few people asked what the Wishing Ball was.

"Just come on along and see, okay? I'm not going to tell you anything more, so you're not prejudiced," I added.

That got the interest of some people who didn't look all that thrilled with taking a long walk after an exhausting day getting moved into the dorm. It seemed like a third of the entire dorm came with us as we headed down the sidewalk.

In the end, twenty-some people went to Divine's. As we passed through town, Tyrone pointed out places of interest, such as Miller's Diner and various shops where they could use their coupons. We lost some people. Clarice and Zach made note of who stayed with us for the walk of several blocks. Every single one was a fandom person of one kind or another. The freaks and geeks, as some of the arrogant jerks referred to us. We basically left the art and dance and music students behind—unless they were also science fiction and fantasy and horror people, too. Had to wonder if that was accidental. After all, there was already something strong building up on our dorm floor, with all the fandom gear people had brought with them to college.

YeOldeDragonBooks.com

Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

Someone must have been teaching Sylvia boxing. She got in a good right hook between my left temple and eye socket before I realized she was getting physical. Sylvia hadn't tried to inflict capital punishment on those who crossed her since fifth grade.

While I didn't use my telekinetic power to shove her away, pin her to the wall, maybe even shove her through the wall, honesty compels me to admit that Harry saved me. Maybe he had a little ability to fly, or least do the long jump fast, and hard. He body-slammed Sylvia from behind while she was spinning around and coming back in for another strike. I was still catching my breath and seeing stars. Then suddenly the male five percent of the faculty and staff stormed into the room and got hold of Sylvia.

Dr. Butterfield had heard everything, and proved he had a future writing political speeches with the great spin he put on the whole encounter. Without repeating a single word that either of us said, he put everything on Sylvia. She was a resident at the school and I was a guest. She had come back to the chapel when she should have been heading to her next class. It all worked against her.

The headmistress came to apologize while we were sitting in Dr. Butterfield's private quarters. He was digging some very old ice from the back of his tiny English refrigerator to put on my eye. She assured us that Sylvia had gone "beyond the pale" (yeah, they still said that in Jolly Olde England) and had wasted the last of many second chances granted her.

Whatever that meant, it didn't mean Sylvia returned to Neighborlee High for the rest of our junior year. Unfortunately, she did come back for our senior year.

I couldn't wait to get home and report to the "We loathe Sylvia Grandstone club." It wasn't really an official group, although a number of people in our graduating class confessed they had looked into voodoo dolls and sending requests to the State Department to keep her from coming back into the country.

No, that wasn't very mature of me. It also wasn't very mature that I let Mum and Pop praise me for not using my powers to slam Sylvia into the wall, or through a window, or just hold her up in the air and spin her around like a WWE wrestling champion. I didn't use my telekinesis because I didn't get a chance. Ten-plus years of self-imposed "never use our talents where other people can see" made me hesitate. Even when it came to a chance to work out my frustrations on Sylvia Grandstone and get payback for all my friends at school.

So I really didn't deserve any of the kudos I got. Sympathy for my black eye, yes, I earned that. Praise for not slamming that spoiled brat snot into a greasy makeup smear on the stone wall of the chapel? Nope.

YeOldeDragonBooks.com

Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

"How did you con them into adopting you? Like, you're gonna be rich when they kick off. Both of them are so old. You have got to tell me how you did it."

Why? So she could con someone into adopting her?

"I didn't do anything. I was only six when they adopted me." I barely managed to hold back "remember?" because of course, the only time Sylvia paid attention to me back in school was when I stood between her and what she wanted. "Right place, right time, right people, I guess." I couldn't really say my parents were warm, loving people who were looking to share their love. Sylvia would not understand at all.

"Some people get all the luck." She straightened up and shook her head, with that calculated, slow kind of movement that I swear she had to practice in the mirror. How else could she get her curls to respond like that and lay just so on her shoulders? "You're rich. Who would have thought it? I mean, you don't act it."

"What does acting rich mean?"

"Well … not dressing like that, for one thing." She fluttered her fingers at me.

Then she stopped, frowning. My deceptively casual outfit was brand new. Mum and I spent half a day at Selfridges with a personal shopper, putting together outfits. Mum liked casual, but she also liked quality. She liked stuff that lasted. Yes, sometimes she wore jeans so heavily studded with rhinestones that she almost couldn't lift her legs to walk, but she also liked good quality, casual fashion. For the first time on the trip, I wasn't wearing my usual comfy jeans with an overshirt and T-shirt.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" I had to ask.

"Better get your money back from that shopper chick who was helping you spend all Pop's money," Harry said, leaning into the doorway. He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out, then straightened out his expression when Sylvia turned to look at him.

"You have a personal shopper?" she drawled, her disbelief so thick in her voice, the pitch slid up the scale about an octave. "What is your problem? Why are you acting like you're a stupid poor hick all the time?"

"How should I act? Like a spoiled brat arrogant snot who thinks she should run the world, and just makes herself look like a brainless twit?"

"Like you?" Harry added.

Sylvia let out a steam whistle shriek and launched herself at me. How unfair was that? Harry said it. She never would have realized I was talking about her until he said it.

Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

I always had to keep in mind the rules Kurt and Felicity and I had made up to protect our talents or powers or whatever let us do what we did. Hide what we did, hide what we were, hide from trouble. There was no telling when the weirdness factor of Neighborlee would fail us, and those people who spied on the children’s home would return, notice us, and make us vanish.

So it was good that Sylvia didn't catch me kinda-sorta flying.

"Am I supposed to ask what you were thinking?" I asked, after we stood there for a few minutes in silence.

Sylvia was the one Grandstone who had learned some patience. Where just staring down her cousins, Reggie and Freddie would get them to mouth off and get themselves in trouble, silence didn't get under Sylvia's skin. She could stand there and smirk, or give indications of the mental gymnastics she was going through, and wait for someone else to talk.

The smart tactic was to take control of the pseudo-conversation when Sylvia was involved. Besides, the more time she had to think, the better the chances she would twist the situation around entirely in her favor. For instance, if I made her stand there long enough, by the time an argument arose and she started screaming, she would have convinced herself that I had tricked her into staying behind after the Q&A. Since I had survived ten years of attending school with her, the odds were good that I could predict what she would say and do, and even how she thought. If the mental gyrations in the gray matter of a Grandstone brain could be called "thinking."

"Just how long did you think you could keep that secret?" She adjusted her stance so the other hip was cocked out and she leaned against the other side of the door.

"Uh, it's a secret to me, I guess."

That got one of her trademark squeal-snorts. "Your parents."

"It's no secret that I have parents."

I fully expected her to harangue me with the fact that I was one of the Lost Kids of Neighborlee. Former resident of Neighborlee Children's Home. A reject. A throwaway. Sloppy seconds.

"They're famous!" Sylvia came out of the doorway, jamming her fists into her hips. "Your parents are big-time, famous writers! How long did you think you could hide it? Some people!" Another squeal, with only a touch of snort.

"Uh, I never tried to hide it."

What I tried to hide was my grin. Until that first booksigning where people were lined up halfway around the block, it never really registered that my parents with twenty books to their names were indeed popular writers. People paid good money and waited eagerly for first editions in hardback.

"I can't believe I never made the connection." Sylvia tipped her head to one side, letting her hair fall in her face. "I mean, yeah, they're the weird, hippie Zephyrs, but they're famous. They've got about a gazillion books that people buy. You are rich."

Uh huh. So that was her problem. Nobody in town was allowed to be rich other than the Grandstones.

YeOldeDragonBooks.com

Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

Too bad his theory was wrong. Sylvia came strolling in among the last of the first group for question-and-answer. She didn't look happy about being there. Maybe because she strolled in entirely alone. No followers, no admirers, no co-conspirators.

I paid attention to the Q&A because these select academy girls asked smart questions. Maybe because the students who came to the first session wanted to be there. They were interested in writing and doing research and what else they could do with their study focus on language and writing skills when they got out of school. I listened instead of turning down my mental volume control. There were no multiple repetitions of the same inane questions, proving nobody was listening to anyone. I liked listening to my folks talk about writing, about research, about fun and freaky things that happened to them or that they discovered. Mum made them laugh when she admitted how she tried her hand at writing paranormal romances, and while doing research on druids she learned about the Roman occupation of Britannia.

She then related how researching the Roman occupation led to learning about Boudica, the tribal queen who united the tribes in revolt against the Roman overlords and destroyed ancient Londinium. Yeah, nothing like infuriating a warrior queen by declaring that since her husband was dead and there was no male heir, the Romans were going to disband the tribe. Excuse me? Her husband was king because he married her. That was how some Celtic tribes handed down the leadership: the man who married the previous king's daughter became king. When you think about it, a very sensible way of handling things.

Mum never did write her story set in ancient Britain, but she got the girls interested in doing research and just having fun learning bits and pieces. From some of the comments I heard as they passed under the balcony on their way out, she got them interested in Boudica and their own history, too. That was Mum.

Harry escaped while the girls were still filing out. I waited until everyone was gone before I came downstairs. Pop went back to the archives with Dr. Butterfield, and Mum walked off with a knot of girls with specific questions about resources and searching.

There was nothing to pick up and move after the Q&A, not like other talks where Mum and Pop had books or visual aids. I wandered around the room, looking at the stained glass, the chimneys on the lanterns with all the fancy brasswork and colored glass, the inlay on the ends of the benches. There was a lot of history in this little room of ten rows with two five-seater benches in each row.

"Thought so," a familiar, whiny voice said, punctuated with a snort.

I looked at the door. There was Sylvia Grandstone, arms crossed, head tilted to display her golden curls. I wondered who she was trying to impress. Ninety-five percent of the staff were women, and this was a girls-only school. That was followed by a sense of "whew!" Her entrance stopped me just in time, before I acted on an idea of floating up to look at some writing in the stained glass panel at the front of the chapel. While I didn't really care what Sylvia Grandstone thought of me, I wasn't stupid enough to risk her making a fuss that the wrong people might listen to.

YeOldeDragonBooks.com

It's QUIZ Time! Ready to earn some points for a free book?

 SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

Chapter 1 Quiz

If you haven't listened to Chapter 1 yet on the Ye Olde Dragon's Library storytelling podcast, NOW would be a good time to do that........ 

2 points for every correct answer.

Send your answers to: 2OldeDragons@gmail.com by February 28

 

1. What did Lanie have to apologize for, her junior year of high school?
2. What would she have preferred doing, back home in Neighborlee?
3. What is her brother's name?
4. How long ago was he adopted, at the time of the story?
5. Why was the woman so angry with Lanie and her brother at the bookstore?
6. What did Lanie end up calling the lady, by the end of the visit?
7. Who were Jake and Emma Crowder?
8. Who is their son (who isn't born yet, at this point in the story)?
9. Why did Lanie get a headache, when she and her brother were exploring in the attic in the haunted schoolhouse?

 

Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

The headmistress was an even bigger fan, but she was reasonable and had some dignity. She and Dr. B teamed up to get some concessions out of the snobs who had thrown up the original barrier. For the sake of the students, of course. Everything came together, including paying for our transportation to Cornwall and the sprawling manor that had been turned into a private school, and get us back to Heathrow on schedule.

An unoccupied faculty apartment was set aside for my folks to do their research in comfort, instead of working in the room Dr. B had set up before he went to New Guinea. In exchange, they were asked to spend a few hours talking with the students about all the aspects of research and writing, journalism, the pros and cons of authorship and the globe-trotting lifestyle. We had to laugh a little about the last part. Mum and Pop had left the globe-trotting part of their job description behind when they settled in Neighborlee. Sure, they still traveled, but no longer ten months out of the year.

As soon as the first green plaid skirt and black sweater trimmed in gold strolled into the meeting room-slash-former chapel for the first question-and-answer session, I got that sick feeling of impending doom. Harry was sitting with me in a small balcony where we could see and hear everything, but we weren't on display like Mum and Pop. He was busy with a pretty cool hand-held video game Dr. B gave him, and he didn't pay any attention to the students filing into the room and jockeying for one of the sixty seats, until I groaned.

"What?" He scooted over on the bench seat and rested his elbows on the balcony ledge, to look down on the growing audience. He frowned at the girls filing in, then at me. "What?"

"Don't you recognize the uniforms?"

He shook his head and shrugged.

"Remember the Tower of London?"

"I remember that Grandstone… Oh." Harry patted me on the shoulder. "Maybe she's sick today."

"Grandstones are always sick, but it's not the kind that gives us any relief." I slid back on the bench, away from the ledge, even though chances of anyone looking up and seeing us were slim.

"Well, you think she's going to come here to listen to Mum and Pop if it's voluntary? I bet the only thing she reads is a supermarket gossip rag or else something about Hollywood. That's why she got sent over here, because she wanted to go into acting. Right?" He waited for me to nod, then bent his head over his video game again.

Honestly, my little brother was a really smart kid.

YeOldeDragonBooks.com

Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

Four days before we were scheduled to leave England, we made a stop in Cornwall at a "select academy for young women" that shall otherwise remain unidentified. Don't for a moment think that description makes it easy to identify, because in England they grow select academies like the average Midwestern front lawn grows dandelions.

The academy was supposed to be one of our first stops when we arrived in England, to go through the archives. Just before our flight, we learned our visit would have to be either postponed or canceled. The academy's librarian, Mum and Pop's contact, Dr. Butterfield, had to take care of an emergency in New Guinea. Nobody else on the staff was qualified to oversee the search. We learned later, that actually meant no one was willing to work with Yanks. They changed their minds fast enough to make Linda Blair's head spin in the opposite direction, when Dr. Butterfield returned and the staff found out who they had snubbed.

We had planned to spend the last day in England doing the shopping-tourist thing (Harrod's, Selfridges, other landmark and famous stores). Instead, we packed up and zipped down the coast to a truly beautiful and rocky and wild section of Cornwall. From the top of the cliff that bordered the school grounds, we could see the coastline and the crashing waves. If it had been near dusk, I might have taken a chance of floating down to the water's edge, maybe get some water-smoothed rocks for souvenirs.

We spent about eight hours at the academy. Dr. Butterfield had already done the preliminary work, narrowing down the specific hand-written, ancient books and loose-leaf stacks of records. My folks "only" had five books to look through out of the enormous, nine-hundred-year-old archives.

Once again, the Zephyr reputation worked for and against my folks. The academy administration finally linked Dr. Butterfield's long-distance research friends with the authors who, according to the papers, had been taking England by storm. The humanities and arts teacher begged Dr. Butterfield to bring my folks down to the school immediately, for an extended stay. She claimed she wanted to provide a "delightful educational experience for the girls," but based on her fan-girl reaction to Mum and Pop, the real reason was for her to go nuts. She was just giddy enough to confess, giggling, that she had “mistakenly” considered them "filthy, foreign intruders, unable to appreciate the treasures of the academy's archives." Until Dr. B returned and revealed his friends' identities.

YeOldeDragonBooks.com

New Month -- New Featured Book: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES, Neighborlee, Book 2

February's featured book in the Visitor's Guide to Neighborlee.

What's it about?

High school is rough enough, but the town of Neighborlee, Ohio, has traditions that make it even harder -- culminating in Senior Prank Night, when some seniors try to ensure they never walk through graduation. Lanie and her friends even have to cut short their own Senior Prank Nights to protect their classmates. It's rough being a semi-pseudo-superhero, especially when you don't even get a costume or a cool name.

 Lanie and her friends grow into their duties as guardians. The threats to Neighborlee grow darker as enemies gather from many different directions. Other worlds. Other dimensions. Possibly even the Lost Kids who were stolen years ago.  The guardians do whatever it takes to protect their home.

 And sometimes the guardians pay the ultimate price.

Want to earn points toward free Neighbortlee books?

The quiz will come next week, but you can work ahead by listening to the 1st chapter on the Ye Olde Dragon's Library storytelling podcast. Go to YeOldeDragonBooks.com and click on the podcast link, or listen on your favorite podcast app. That easy.

Check back over the month for excerpts from this book, and for the quiz questions and how to turn in your answers and claim your points.

Video -- Sneak Peek of the next Neighborlee featured book: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

 

Just finished making a new video, for my February featured book in the Visitor's Guide to Neighborlee, year-long promotion.

Whaddaya think?

And there's still time to take the latest quiz and earn points toward a free book. Check a couple blog posts ago for the questions and where to send the answers. It's easy! Just listen to the 1st chapter of CONFESSIONS OF A LOST KID on the Ye Olde Dragon's Library storytelling podcast, or if you own the book, read the 1st chapter to refresh your memory. You do want to earn points toward free books, don't you?

Come on, it'll be fun!!

New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

"I felt something," Kurt said, after I had inhaled my half of the bar.

Ford pulled out his pocketknife and sliced the slab of fruit leather in half, passing one piece to Stephanie for Angela before pressing the other into my hand.

"Whatever hit Angela…" I swallowed hard against a wavelet of nausea that came from a flicker of memory. Honestly, the whole tug-of-war had happened so fast, I had to think back over it before I could sort out the impressions. "It was trying to hold onto her."

That made a whole lot more sense than Ford and Stephanie being strong enough to pull Angela from my telekinetic hold.

"It was a surge, or maybe more like a flash of light when a door opens, before someone inside turns off the light." Kurt shuddered and put his hand under my chin, making me raise my head and meet his gaze. "Black light. Not even black. Colors I've never seen before."

"Angela?" Ford went down in a crouch in front of her and caught hold of one of her hands.

The other hand was holding that strip of fruit leather to her mouth. Angela had inhaled the chocolate bar, but she was sucking on the dried fruit. Her head was bowed, her hair hanging loose like a curtain so we couldn't really see her face. What little I could see, her color looked normal. Ford was really the only one who could see enough of her to know how she was.

"I should hate to think that the rivalry between our towns has extended this far," Angela said after a few seconds.

"Huh?" Kurt said.

Stephanie chuckled. "It isn't the town attacking you, and you know it." She glanced over her shoulder at the house, and I looked too.

Weird. The house looked less menacing now. As if the attack on Angela, the attempt by something to drag her down, maybe keep her in the yard, maybe even suck her into the house, had used up whatever inimical energy it had.

"Or it sucked something out of you and kind of…" I stopped, a little stunned to realize I had been thinking aloud and everybody was looking at me.

"Kind of what?" Angela sounded almost normal, but her smile seemed thin.

"I don't know, maybe whatever it took from you kind of inoculated it? You're a really strong influence, and your power, your magic, kind of stunned whatever got hold of you?" I groaned and slid down to sit on the bumper of the Jeep. "That sounds totally stupid, even worse aloud than when I was thinking it."

"No, it makes a little sense." She sighed and offered us something close to her usual knowing smirk. "I hope you'll forgive me if I hesitate to act as a massive dose of penicillin or a bandage soaked with antibiotic ointment."

New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

We crossed the yellow line together in slow, steady, almost synchronized steps. Kind of like the scene where the team of sheriff and deputies walk down the center of the street to meet the outlaw gang. We stepped up onto the curb, and crossed the tree lawn in two steps. Actually, the strip of grass between the crumbling sidewalks of Darbyville and the equally crumbling curb, glopped up with asphalt, didn't really count as a tree lawn. We lost our unified steps on the sidewalk. Ford and Kurt put one foot onto the lawn of the abandoned house about a second before Stephanie and I did.

Angela wobbled and her knees folded a little bit. She was in the middle of our group, with Stephanie and Ford on either side of her. They both looked back at the same time and reached for her. Angela let out a breathless little chuckle and took two steps onto the patchy, matted grass, and this time did go to her knees.

"Get her out of here!" I shouted, and didn't wait for anyone to respond. Looking back, that wasn't smart.

When I mind-lifted Angela, they were still holding onto her, and naturally they resisted when she rose up in the air and sort of went into a reclining/seated position. The couple of seconds of mental tug-of-war, hurt. Something kind of reach up through the power I had wrapped around Angela and dug claws into my brain. I had a nosebleed by the time we all got back across the street. Kurt yanked the back door of Stephanie's Jeep open and they got Angela inside.

I leaned against the back panel, my hands pressed against my temples, trying not to be sick. I had never worked myself into a strain headache like that before, and certainly not so quickly. Kurt ran around to the other side of the Jeep and found my emergency stash in my backpack. Dark chocolate studded with raisins and almonds, and a backup slab of fruit leather. By this time, Ford saw I was in bad shape. He pulled out his enormous blue cotton handkerchief to deal with my bloody nose. Stephanie saw the chocolate and snatched it out of Kurt's hand before he had it unwrapped, broke the bar in half, and pressed her half to Angela's mouth before tossing the rest back to Kurt.

New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

I have to admit that I avoided looking at the house in question. Instincts again? Who knows?

On first glance, it didn't look menacing or dangerous. However, when we got out of our cars and really looked at the place, a chill that had nothing to do with the bright fall day passed over and through me. It was an Indian summer-warm day, even with all the scarlet and gold leaves showering from the trees around us, thanks to a really strange cold spell just the week before. Well, that's what makes this time of year Indian summer, a warm reprieve after the first hard taste of the winter weather to come.

Then I realized just what I was seeing. The trees on either side of the house were utterly bare. The house didn't have any trees in the front yard, and while the grass was tall, proving no one had done any maintenance in weeks, maybe months, it was brown and patchy. I swear there were matted spots that looked moldy. It made very ugly contrast to the emerald velvet lawns on either side of the house. Except, of course, right along where the neighbors' yards touched the abandoned property. Spotty patches of brown extended into the other yards, like mold or the way dirty water wicks up into paper towels set on the edge of the puddle.

I decided to listen to my instincts, since Angela had just told me not to ignore them, and told the others what I saw. Just in case they didn't. No one looked annoyed. I had the feeling they were noticing other things, besides the evidence of how bad neighbors could lower property values.

"What do you feel?" Ford said, finally turning his gaze off the house long enough to glance at Kurt.

"Nothing." Kurt kind of frowned, kind of pouted, and those creases formed around his eyes, meaning he was concentrating hard enough to give himself a headache. "If anything is going on here, if there's something dangerous about those professors, it's not here. It's just an ugly old house."

"Perhaps." Angela tipped her head toward the house. "Shall we?"

I wanted to ask if we could all hold hands as we crossed from Neighborlee into Darbyville. The words clogged up in my throat, because I realized how much I sounded like a Kindergartener. Again, I should have listened to my instincts.

New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

When Angela came out again, it finally occurred to me to get out of the front seat and slide into the back of the Jeep, to let her have the front. She winked at me as she swept down the walk again and through the gate. Everything felt wrong, and that made no sense. She closed the gate and hung a laminated sign on it, stating she would be back by two. That reinforced Stephanie's statement that she did indeed leave the shop, because who would have a laminated sign lying around if they didn't use it?

Angela wore a tweedy-looking coat in a deep shade of lavender, and she had changed her slipper-shoes for some stylish, light brown ankle boots. What did she expect to be doing, just going to the border of Neighborlee and Darbyville to get an impression of a suspicious house there? I wasn't planning on getting out of the Jeep. That realization just struck me at that moment.

Funny, how the position of being a guardian of Neighborlee had never felt so serious as it did right that moment, when I had no idea what was going on.

The ride went quickly as we caught Angela up on what Stephanie had observed during her time on campus, all the bits of gossip she had gathered, the people she had observed. Then I told them about the examination we had given my dormitory building the night before, and the really weird fight that had broken out over prop weapons from two different TV series.

"Did I just make things worse?" I had to ask, after confessing how I had let Mercedes know that other people knew about the experiment and we didn't much like it. Plus asking her not to record and report on the fight.

"Never doubt your instincts, Lanie," Angela said after a moment of quiet. Stephanie made the last turn onto the street where the border between our two towns followed the center yellow line.

"At least they can't say they weren't warned," Stephanie added. "And if you think about it, the students who are doing the observing are being treated unfairly. Their professors know they're in trouble, that they've acted without official permission, but the students doing all the hard work of observing and writing up reports think it's all legitimate. Until now, they also think nobody knows what they're doing. Anonymity gives some security and some boldness."

"Yeah, just look at all the superheroes who wear masks," slipped out before I even thought how that would sound.

Fortunately, that got smiles from both of them.

New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

"We might need more firepower than we have with just the four of us," Stephanie said, as she signaled for a right turn.

We were heading for the border of Neighborlee and Darbyville. A right turn would take us toward Divine's Emporium. How come I wasn't relieved that she decided to go get Angela?

When was I going to learn to trust my instincts over what people said? Granted, I was only eighteen at the time, and I was a little tired after flying patrol in the cold and all the running around I had done that morning. Plus I was a teensy bit distracted by the growing certainty I was going to miss my upcoming class. Did I have a quiz scheduled, or just another lecture? Who in the class would loan me their notes? More important, who among those friends took really good, coherent, usable notes?

See? Lots on my mind at the time.

Angela was outside, sweeping leaves off the flagstone sidewalk in front of the wrought iron fence when we pulled up.

"Is it—I don't know—safe for you to leave?" I had to ask, after Stephanie gave the bare bones of what we had discovered and what we were planning on doing with Ford and Kurt.

"You've seen me away from the shop before," Angela said, with a chuckle. "I'm not needed to anchor it down and keep this place from blowing away." She gestured with her broom at the front door. "Let me get a coat and leave a note."

"That's not what I was afraid of," I muttered, as she glided up the walk and went inside.

"Believe it or not, Angela has left the city limits, and the county, and even the state from time to time." Stephanie smiled, but her voice didn't sound as carefree as I would have liked.

New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

Ford Longfellow drove up as I was walking to the corner, to wait for Stephanie. She had to take care of the students working the snack bar and then get her car and come meet me. He was on his way to meet Kurt, after picking up keys to get into the dormitory through the service entrance and go straight to the roof, to see if he could sense anything. When I explained the things Stephanie overheard and remembered, he got that too-quiet, thoughtful look I had seen him wear the first time we faced something nasty in Neighborlee together.

"Yeah, kind of the same thing for me. I didn't remember dreaming about the dormitories until Kurt mentioned what you three found." He shook his head, and his lips worked for a second like he was getting ready to spit out a bad taste. "Something tells me you two shouldn't go out there alone. Abandoned houses are always bad news. Especially on that side of Darbyville. Ever been out there?"

I shook my head. He tipped his head up a little and looked past me, and I turned to see Stephanie pulling up in her Jeep.

"If you ever need proof there's a defensive dome surrounding Neighborlee, that's the place for it. Like night and day, different sides of the street where the border between our two towns runs down the middle. Do me a favor, and wait for me and Kurt to catch up with you? And stay on our side of the street until we get there?"

I agreed. He tipped a salute off his eyebrow to Stephanie and drove off. I got in her Jeep and told her what Ford had told me. I hesitated to suggest we go get Angela and bring her with us. The thought of taking Angela to a place Ford Longfellow didn't like made me feel kind of queasy. That's the only way to explain it.

New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

"Anyway," she continued, "it's been quiet, all around. Maybe we've all been concentrating so much on the problem with those professors…" She frowned, eyes going distant.

"What did you just think of?"

"Just gossip." She shrugged and took a sip from the tall paper cup, her eyes hooded, her gaze pensive. "Despite every effort to keep that whole mess covered up, it's impossible to keep secrets on a college campus. Other departments know. Especially when the head of the psychology department looks daggers at his underlings who forged his signature and claimed they got approval and permission from him, even though he and the other leaders of the department never met to discuss the experiment."

"So you've overheard other professors talking about the mess when they come here, or come to the diner?"

"Diner. They don't talk about school politics here on campus. You have to admire them for that. It's best to put on a united front for the students." She took another sip. "What comes to mind now, and I have to wonder why it didn't register at the time, is that the two ringleaders in the whole mess, Tudderman and Winghast, have been seen making regular visits to a house in Darbyville. The street straddles the border with Neighborlee. It's near a main street, so the professors who live in Darbyville and take that route see them on a regular basis, coming or going, and never together. Someone finally remarked on it, and someone else said they had seen it, and I guess they started asking questions and…"

She shrugged, her lower lip sticking out as she visibly thought it over. "What made it memorable is that the house has had a for sale sign in the front yard for more than a year. The grass is high and some of the windows are boarded up. If either of them were planning on buying the house, maybe they don't know the other is looking at it."

"Maybe they're waiting for the price to go down more?" I shivered as I said it. It sounded stupid, but Stephanie didn't react, still deep in thought.

"Something strange is going on. I know that I've heard people talking about it, multiple times, yet none of those times… I don't know, the incidents didn't stick in my memory until just now." She sat up and looked around the Student Center. "Do you have time for a field trip?"