A beginners guide to rul.., p.1
A Beginner's Guide to Ruling the Galaxy, page 1
OUT OF THIS WORLD REVIEWS FOR
MY BROTHER IS A SUPERHERO
“I even think my dad would like reading this book!”
David, The Book Squad, The Beano
“Cosmic! Amazing! Outstanding! Probably the funniest book I have read for a long time.”
Alison A. Maxwell-Cox, The School Librarian
“I was so addicted to it that my mum had to make me put it down.”
Calum, aged 11
“Funny, fast moving and deftly plotted, it’s the best thing to hit the superhero world since sliced kryptonite.”
Damian Kelleher, Dad Info
“You know a book is going to be good when you’re giggling after five minutes… Ideal for comic readers and superhero experts.”
Nicola Lee, The Independent
“An excellent adventure story with real heart that’s also properly funny.”
Andrea Reece, Lovereading4Kids
“You’ll laugh until you fall out of your tree house!”
Steve Coogan
“A brilliantly funny adventure with twists, turns, crazy characters and a really hilarious ending. Fantastic!”
Sam, aged 11
“Brilliantly funny.”
The Bookseller
Chapter 1
“I claim this adequately rated secondary school in the name of the Galactic League!”
Puzzled to hear such an odd declaration, Gavin looked up to see a tall girl with long black hair standing on the top step outside the main entrance of Middling High, hands on her hips, chin jutting out, addressing the milling playground like some junior dictator. The morning sun gleamed off the buttons on her uniform blazer, her dark eyes shone and her hair streamed in the breeze. A discarded crisp packet blew by, briefly catching on her foot. Gavin didn’t recognise her and, despite the impressive display, no one was paying her the slightest attention. No one except for him. The girl turned on one heel and marched over.
It was just before the bell went for the start of classes and he was sitting on the far side of the steps reading a book, on his own as usual. The girl seemed to have some difficulty focusing on him at first, but eventually her gaze landed and suddenly he felt like a specimen under a microscope.
“Your skin,” she remarked. “It’s so … pale.” She rolled up one sleeve and stuck her arm next to his. The contrast between her sandy complexion and his pasty skin was striking. “Remarkable. You’re almost translucent. Not a friend to the ultraviolet end of the spectrum, I’m guessing. Good job this planet only has one sun.”
Assuming that this was her awkward attempt at saying hello, Gavin ignored the general weirdness of the comment. He hadn’t seen her at school before and since he had plenty of experience of being the new kid, he decided to give her a break.
He lowered his book. “So, do you always go around claiming schools for – what was it again?”
“The Galactic League,” she repeated in a tone of voice that suggested she was disgusted he hadn’t heard of it.
Her accent marked her out as not from around here, so he figured it must be some foreign football league. Still, an odd comment to make, even for an ardent fan. “I’m Gavin, by the way.”
“Gavin?” she said, intoning his name like she’d just discovered a new species of frog. “The Gavin?”
He was the only one in Year 8. There was another in Year 12, but everyone called him Shed, because once he’d got locked in his dad’s garden shed over a bank holiday weekend and had to survive on birdseed and spring water from a four-pack of canned tuna. He hadn’t eaten the tuna because he couldn’t find any mayo. So, yes, Gavin supposed that made him the Gavin, whatever that meant.
The girl put a hand over her right eye and squinted at him with her left, her eyeball circling wildly. “So it’s true. It’s like you’re barely here.”
“Fine,” he said, losing interest and burying his head in his book. His plan was to ignore her until she went away. But then he noticed a boy tearing across the playground with a stiff, upright running style, arms pumping, knees somewhere around his ears. The boy carved a path through clumps of kids, heading towards the main entrance.
“There you are,” he said to the girl, trotting up the steps. He was slightly shorter than she was, an athletic body topped by a disproportionately big head. “You wandered off,” he continued. “Sam – I mean, Dad – told you not to leave my side, at least for our first day.”
So they’re brother and sister, thought Gavin. Maybe twins.
She glowered and he shrank from her. “No one orders me about. Especially not some hairy warrior.”
“Some what?” said Gavin.
The boy let out a startled cry, evidently just noticing him sitting there. He sent Gavin a nervous glance and began to honk like a goose. “Worrier. Dad’s such a worrier.” The boy paused for a moment. “And he is hairy.” He raised a hand in greeting. “I’m Bart,” he mumbled, and then added, “I come in peace.”
Oh no, not another one. “Good for you,” said Gavin. “I came on my bike.”
The boy frowned. “That is an example of comedic wordplay, correct?”
Gavin was coming to the surprising conclusion that the boy might be even weirder than his sister. “Sure. You a big fan of comedic wordplay, Bart?”
The boy and girl exchanged a puzzled glance. “Yee-s,” he said slowly, “I am Bart. That is correct. Because ‘Bart’ is a statistically commonplace designation.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, even more keen to get back to his book and far away from these two. “I’m Gavin.”
“Gavin?” The boy’s eyes widened. “Is he the one?”
The girl ignored him. “What’s that?” she asked, referring to Gavin’s Spork of the Dead-themed lunchbox.
Unsure if she hadn’t recognised the greatest video game in the world, or a basic packed lunch box, he didn’t answer at first. She took it as an invitation to investigate further.
“Hey!” he objected as she removed his sandwiches and took a large bite.
“Oh, mmm,” she gushed. “It’s so utterly, incredibly … bland. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so wholly unremarkable in my whole life. What is it?”
“Uh … cheese and ham,” said Gavin, looking around the playground for the telltale smirks on the faces of his schoolmates that would signal this was a prank.
“Uh-Cheesinam,” she repeated in wonder, staring at the sandwich as if it was the Crown Jewels, before tearing off another chunk.
Gavin found his tongue. “That’s my lunch you’re eating.”
She waved away his concern. “I’ll have one of the servants prepare you a fresh Uh-Cheesinam. Or perhaps you’d prefer something more interesting – how about a slice of Tilorthian Phlan? Your taste buds will think you’ve died and gone to Alpha Centauri.”
Bart began to honk again, as if his sister had cracked the funniest joke. “Isn’t she a hoot? Phlan? Servants? Earth’s closest planetary system? I ask you, as if a perfectly normal human schoolgirl would have staff and an intergalactic packed lunch.”
“So.” She gave a long sigh and flicked her hair. “What is there to do here?”
“At school?”
“No. In this habitat.”
Strange word to use. “You mean Middling?”
“If that’s how its inhabitants refer to their environment.”
If she was hoping for bright lights and a world-class aquarium, she’d come to the wrong habitat. Gavin had lived in Middling since he was nine years old, which made a running total of three years, four months, two weeks, and five days. He’d had a lot of different homes over the years, so he liked to keep count. He muttered something about it being a nice spot to live, if a little quiet.
“Apple,” she said.
“No, it’s grapes today.” He pulled out a bunch of seedless South Africans from his lunchbox.
“I refer to my personal designation,” she said. Gavin gave her a blank look and she curled her lip in frustration before clicking her fingers. “Name!” She said it like she’d produced a rabbit from a hat. “My name is Apple.” She paused. “Niki Apple.”
“Cheesely,” he said. “Gavin Cheesely.”
“You have my condolences,” said Niki.
The bell went for the start of school. The kids in the playground lumbered zombie-like up the steps and in through the main entrance. When the crowd thinned, Niki and Bart had gone. For a moment, Gavin wondered if he’d imagined the two of them, but then they strolled back through the open doors on to the steps. Even his imagination wasn’t strange enough to conjure up these two.
“What are you waiting for?” said Niki. “As I understand from my briefing, the repetitive sound of the directly struck idiophone percussion instrument—”
“She means the bell,” Bart added hurriedly.
Niki pursed her lips, swatting him away like a persistent fly. “The bell signifies the commencement of training. Oh, I do hope the first class is hand-to-hand combat. I have sharpened my nails especially.”
She disappeared inside with an eager bounce and what Gavin judged to be a frankly disturbing look in her eye.
Bart paused. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “That she’s cruel and uncaring and only interested in herself.”
Gavin waited for the next half of the sentence, the bit where Bart went on to explain that really she’s not like that at all, and how once you got to know her she was kind and gentle and actually a great big softy.
It didn’t come.
“Bart, attend me this instant!” Niki’s piercing tone blasted out of the entrance like a high-explosive round.
Bart winced and, with one final apologetic look towards Gavin, trotted after her. “Coming, Your High—” He broke off. “I mean … coming, regular biological sister.”
Closing the book, Gavin stuffed it and the remains of his lunch into his bag and prepared to head to his first class. If he’d known then what he would later learn, what he should’ve done was drop everything, hightail it in the opposite direction, change his name to Jose Silva and immediately relocate to Brazil. But at that precise moment he had no idea that though Niki Apple had only just appeared in his life, she was about to make quite an impact.
Like that asteroid did on the dinosaurs.
Chapter 2
Deciding that Niki was a fruitcake with extra crazy currants, Gavin made every effort to steer clear of her after that. However, she had different ideas. Even when he thought he’d given her the slip, he would turn a corner or open a classroom door and there she’d be, popping up like an incredibly insulting jack-in-the-box, Bart trailing her every step. He didn’t know why she was so keen to accompany him both in and out of school, and whenever he asked, she invariably changed the subject. In one incident a few months after their first meeting, he’d accused her of spying on him with a pair of binoculars, which she vehemently denied, claiming instead to be an innocent bird-spotter. An explanation that would’ve been more believable had they not at the time been standing in the queue for McDonald’s.
Gavin considered that the attention from Niki wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d been in any way, shape or form … pleasant. But that was not the case. Reserve my table at luncheon, reserve my place in art class, reserve my seat on the bus – there was an awful lot of reserving.
“Entitled, that’s the word,” he confided to Bart in a quiet moment between slights. They were in biology with Mr Chetty. At least here he had some respite from her, sitting on the opposite side of the room. Not that Bart was a great improvement over Niki. He was one of those people whose life consisted of exercise and salad (Gavin had never seen him with so much as a packet of Fruit Pastilles). Perpetually happy, he was an advert for a clean-living, healthy lifestyle. And, honestly, he was a bit annoying – though not half as much as his sister. “She’s so arrogant,” Gavin griped. “I mean, some people act like they’re better than everyone else, but usually they’re covering for the fact that they’re lacking in confidence. Niki’s not like that. You look into those eyes and you can tell that she utterly believes she’s top banana.”
Bart nodded sagely. “I hadn’t appreciated that the banana was so revered in your culture. Then again, who could resist its potassium-rich, curvy, squishy yellowness – am I right?”
Gavin regarded him with a mixture of confusion and sympathy. “I can’t imagine being her brother.”
“No,” agreed Bart. “Must be dreadful.” He caught Gavin’s expression, quickly cleared his throat and nodded again. “I mean, yes, dreadful. The entitlement. The arrogance. The bananas.”
Mr Chetty instructed the class to choose partners for the next experiment. Before Gavin knew what was happening, Niki had marched over, ejected Bart from his chair and claimed Gavin for her partner. She flopped down next to him and swept her gaze round the class.
“So which one is to be dissected?” she asked in a bored voice.
“Beg pardon?”
“We are studying anatomy, yes?” She cast an imperious look over her classmates. “Then which one of these specimens do we cut up?” Her eyes brightened with excitement. “Or do we get to choose? If so, I pick Audrey Woods. Although overweight, the pallor of her skin suggests healthy internal organs that would prove suitable for study. So is there an operating table in the stationery cupboard or do we slice her open here?”
“You know I can hear you, right?” said Audrey, who was sitting at the next desk.
“We don’t do live animal dissections in this country any more,” said Gavin. “Perhaps in your old school…?”
Niki nodded with understanding and in a matter-of-fact voice said, “What you need is a specimen that would welcome being dissected. Bart?”
“Right away!”
Bart sprang from his seat, charged to the front of the class and offered himself up for scientific study. It took a surprising amount of persuasion for Mr Chetty to convince him that under no circumstances was he about to slice open a student. The remainder of the hour passed without further incident, but Gavin found himself watching Niki with renewed bafflement. And yet for all her strangeness – or perhaps because of it – he was aware that the other kids in school were spellbound by her. Sometimes it felt to him like Niki was riding atop a glorious, rainbow-coloured carnival float, waving regally at a vast crowd, lit by her own personal ray of sunshine, while he was standing by the side of the road holding a stick of candyfloss, watching her go by. In the rain.
Gavin walked home from school alone. It was one of the few times he could count on not being harassed by Niki. While he liked nothing better than to leave at the end of the school day, she crammed her week with every possible after-school activity. Chess club, martial arts, debate team and pottery, to name but a few; she possessed a competitive spirit that compelled her to pit herself against everyone and anyone. Even her ceramic sheep were aggressive. He reached his house on Park Street and turned into the driveway. If eluding Niki in school was hard, doing so at home was even harder, since she lived in the house next door. As soon as the Apples had moved in a few months ago, their driveway became a procession of nosy neighbours bearing casseroles and questions. But to the frustration of the street, and with the exception of Niki’s relentless pursuit of Gavin, the Apples kept themselves largely to themselves.
Unlike his house, Niki’s had an upper floor and the top window with the star-patterned curtains was her bedroom. He knew that she wouldn’t be home yet – it was music practice today and she was first violin in the orchestra. Apart from a few odd facts like these, it struck him that he didn’t know much about her. He knew even less about her family. He had briefly met Mercedes, her mum, when she’d invited him over for what she called a “typical human lunch”. She served jam sandwiches, which turned out to be a slice of chicken squeezed between layers of strawberry jam. Her dad, Sam, was just as odd. One Saturday morning Gavin had been in his back garden, which bordered the Apples’, when through the fence that divided them he’d heard Niki’s mum and dad talking.
“Have you got any dark stuff?” Mercedes had asked.
Sam hadn’t answered at first, leaving a thoughtful pause during which Gavin stuck his eye to a small hole in the fence, to see the long-haired Sam looking past Mercedes with a thousand-yard stare.
“I’ve seen things,” Sam had muttered. “Terrible things. Attack ships on fi—”
“No,” Mercedes had interrupted him. “Dark stuff. I’m putting a wash on.”
As eccentric as the other Apples were, it was Niki who took the biscuit. Actually, she didn’t take it so much as terrify it out of its wrapper and crush it to dust in her triumphantly aloft fist. Gavin stuck his key in the door. He had a strong suspicion that she was hiding something. Other people would be desperate to know what, but not him. He preferred to keep his head down and get on with his life. Whatever Niki was keeping secret, he was certain of one thing.
It had nothing to do with him.
Chapter 3
Niki lay back on her bed with a deep sigh of satisfaction. Orchestra practice had gone particularly well this afternoon. Mr Warble the music teacher had remarked that he’d never seen a violin used like that. Well, it was Tanisha Day’s own fault – she shouldn’t have come in early on the second bar. She gazed up at the swaying shadows on her sloping ceiling. She’d commandeered this bedroom as soon as they moved in. It was the biggest in the house, although its size paled in comparison with the grand living spaces to which she was accustomed. She sighed. She missed her old life. Well, not all of it, but definitely the simple things – like a massive luxury suite with its own spa, private zoo and a convertible roof. Sam had objected to her taking the upper storey of the house, saying it was harder to defend from attack or infiltration. Such a bore. He would have preferred her to sleep in a more secure location. She tutted to herself. The background research she’d been supplied with before their arrival in Middling had included a sample of typical fiction, including one genre of story that seemed exclusively to involve young women – often women of rank with great hair – being locked up in towers by their elders. Sam would approve. Were it up to him, she would be bolted behind a two-metre-thick Teledium metal door in some subterranean prison. Without her hair straighteners.
