No. Ugh! I don’t want you to kick me.”
Jake put his leg down and said, “When you are ready to be extraordinary, let me know.”
Then he walked away.
I was so glad I didn’t have Jake kick me.
Now I was just like he and Madison—extraordinary, and I didn’t need to get whacked in the butt.
Like I said, Jake is unbelievably smart. He also has this really weird connection to marine life. It’s like he can read their thoughts.
Madison’s gift is pretty neat. She’s able to see and hear her guardian angel who she calls GA. At first I didn’t believe her, so Madison asked GA to flicker the hallway lights. Not even a second later the lights started making this sizzling sound and then they blew out.
It was so cool!
Madison said that her guardian angel was still learning how to manipulate energy and is always making light bulbs explode.
Guess guardian angels even have to practice a new skill.
I also have a baby sister named Isabella. She’s two years old. No one knows her extraordinary ability yet. When we asked her if she had one, she nodded yes. And when we asked her what it was, she squatted, clenched her fists tightly, squinted her eyes, and let out this odd moaning sound like she was trying to go to the bathroom.
I wondered if she even had an extraordinary ability or if she was like me and had to have something trigger it to get it working.
Guess someday we’ll know.
I’m just glad that I’m finally like every other Wunderkind—extraordinary! Although, I wish it didn’t happen the way it did.
CHAPTER 2
Baseball Gone Salty
It all began on a hot August day in the small town of Boring Brook.
Jake, Madison, and I rode our bikes to Gator Elementary with our baseball equipment slung over our shoulders. Gator Elementary was the school we attended nine and a half months out of the year.
When we arrived, the playground area was deserted, except for this enormous bird’s nest, sitting high on one of those huge, steel power transmission towers. We had hoped some of our friends would be there, or at least a few other kids, so we could form teams. But no one was.
As I was unzipping my baseball bag, I noticed Principal Dimples, our school’s principal, standing just inside the front entrance of our school, looking at a green piece of paper that was taped to the door. Within seconds, she ripped the paper off. Then she turned in our direction, crossed her arms, clenched her lips together, and stared at us. She made me nervous. I was glad when she turned around and disappeared into the school.
“Are you ready?” shouted Jake from home plate.
Like always, Jake hit first. It was like some kind of unwritten older-brother rule.
I hurried to the pitchers mound, wound up, and pitched Jake a fastball. He hit every pitch I threw. I wasn’t the best pitcher. Most of my pitches were either way too high or outside the batter’s box or too close to the batter. But he still was able to hit every single one of them into the outfield.
After Jake hit, it was Madison’s turn. I always let Madison go before me. And Jake always pitched to her. We agreed to take turns, rotating each position to be fair. Although it really wasn’t that fair, because Jake only wanted me to pitch to him, which meant Madison always pitched to me. Her curveballs have whacked me in the head, elbow, and knee. And yes, they all hurt!
Madison hit the first three pitches Jake pitched, missed the fourth, and walloped the last pitch over Jake’s and my head.
Then it was my turn.
I bolted in, grabbed my super-slugger bat, and hustled to home plate. I swung the bat a few times, waiting for Madison to get settled in on the pitcher’s mound.
“Are you ready?” I yelled, grinding my left foot into the ground.
“You bet!” Madison shouted back, winding up.
I angled my bat just perfectly above my left shoulder. My eyes connected with Madison’s. She lifted up her left knee, gripped the baseball in her right hand, and pitched a knuckleball.
I swung and missed.
“Ugh!” I said, disappointed.
Madison and Jake started laughing.
I sighed and said, “Not funny.”
I got back into batting position and missed the next three pitches—a curveball, a fastball, and another knuckleball.
“One left!” shouted Madison, smirking. This was it.
This was my last pitch.
I took a deep breath and clenched my bat tightly, scanning every angle of Madison’s pitching stance. I was ready for a changeup.
She wound up and released the ball. It was fast!
Whack!
Jake, Madison, and I froze as we watched the baseball soar higher and higher. It went farther than any ball Jake had ever hit.
I smiled proudly, imagining all of my friends telling me that I was just as great as Jake.
But my smile changed quickly, when I noticed the ball heading right for the enormous bird’s nest. There wasn’t anything any of us could do. It crashed right into it, knocking the nest to the ground.
No one could have predicted what happened next. This mammoth-sized bird shot out of the nest, zooming toward us like we were its next prey. Next thing I knew, Jake was shouting, “Run! You hit a raptor’s nest!”
“Aaaggghh!” Jake, Madison, and I screamed, running for cover.
Jake dove behind some bushes near the school.
Madison took cover behind a tree near the basketball court.
I had planned on diving in a ditch about twenty yards from where we were playing. But as I was running, I got this urge to look back. So I did.
That’s when a humongous glob of this mushy, neon-green bird poop landed right smack on my face.
It was so disgusting!
I wish I would have closed my eyes and covered my nose because the stuff seeped into them. My eyes felt like they were on fire and my nose tingled and itched. And then, when I screamed, it dripped into my mouth. It felt so slimy and gooey. And it tasted salty. I fell to the ground, covering my face with my hands.
I really tried hard to keep my cool. But then I heard this crackling, sizzling sound inside my ears, and
