Superheroes Don't Eat Veggie Burgers by Gretchen Kelley

hopefully for the better.”
    I scratch my head. “I don’t know, Mr. P. I can barely remember to change my underwear.”
    He chuckles. “It’s okay to have doubts, Charlie. If you didn’t, it wouldn’t count as an experiment, would it?”
    As if on cue, the phone on his desk starts ringing. He strides over and lifts the receiver.
    I watch as he nods a couple of times, mutters something, then hangs up. When he turns back around, his face seems more serious than before.
    â€œI’ve got to deal with something, pardner,” he says. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Probably best you mosey on out of here now.”
    â€œOne last question,” I say.
    He nods. “Shoot.”
    â€œWhy me? I mean, I’m just some kid trying to make it through sixth grade alive. What makes you think I have what it takes to be a bully buster?”
    â€œThere are some theories, but—”
    â€œBut what?”
    He looks over my head at the clock behind me.
    â€œThis gift … It may be passed down through families, kind of like red hair or dimples.” He steers me toward the door. “But that’s not the important part.”
    â€œThen what is?”
    He gives me a gentle push into the hallway. “That you don’t let that doubt I was talking about suffocate your imagination.” He winks. “Remember—there is no rubric for this assignment.”
    He pulls the door shut before I can respond.
    I look around. The hallway is starting to fill up around me, and I hear Grant call my name from the other end. I push my face up against Mr. P’s door for one last peek.
    Through the narrow window I can see him. He’s back at his desk, the phone receiver in his hand. And then I see something else.
    The leather chair, turntable, and tower of books are all gone.
    So is the coffeepot.
    Even the smell of bacon has vanished.
    I turn and bolt toward my locker, goose bumps tap dancing across my skin.

 
    CHAPTER
    15
    For the first part of the morning, I have a hard time focusing. I can’t stop thinking about everything Mr. P. said, about power and catalysts and gifts. By lunchtime my head is spinning, and I’ve completely lost my appetite.
    I peek into the cafeteria, but Franki’s seat is empty. I wonder if she’s mad at me for not walking with her to school this morning. I tried to call, to tell her I had an early morning project to work on, but her phone was still disconnected.
    I’m thinking about heading to the library, when I hear someone call my name.
    â€œCharlie!” Stella waves at me from the front of the lunch line, surrounded by a group of giggling girls. “Over here!”
    Great, I think. The last thing I need right now is to do something stupid in front of a bunch of cheerleaders.
    â€œWe were just talking about Boomer,” she says as I walk up to her. “Have you heard?”
    I shake my head.
    â€œHe got three days of in-school suspension,” says the tall blond girl standing next to me. She throws her hair over her shoulder. “And Dr. Moody told him that if he ever pulls another stunt like stripping in school, he’ll have to sit out the next two home games.” The girls shake their heads, and I’m not sure if it’s because they can’t imagine getting three days of in-school suspension, or if they’re wondering how the Gatehouse Vikings could possibly play two home football games without their best defensive tackle.
    Stella narrows her eyes at me. “Rumor has it that Boomer is blaming you for what happened to him.”
    The blond girl twirls a piece of her hair. “Pretty brave, messing with a guy like Boomer,” she says, looking me up and down. “Not bad for a sixth grader.” The two girls next to her giggle and nod.
    I look at Stella. “Me? Why would he blame me?”
    Stella grabs the front of my T-shirt and pulls me to the side. “Listen,