Superheroes Don't Eat Veggie Burgers by Gretchen Kelley Page A

Charlie,” she hisses into my ear, “I’m not a big fan of Boomer’s, either. But if you think that trying to get revenge is the best way to be more popular around here—”
    â€œRevenge?” I squeak. “Who said anything about revenge?”
    She raises an eyebrow at me. “He pantsed you on the first day of school. He stuffed one of your best friends into a locker. And I don’t know what happened between him and Franki at the dance, but people are saying it wasn’t pretty.” She looks around and lowers her voice. “I don’t know how you got him to strip naked, but you took it too far. Boomer’s not a rocket scientist, but he’s going to put two and two together and realize you had plenty of reason to get him back for the stuff he’s been doing to you and your friends.”
    I think I’m going to puke. If Boomer Bodbreath thinks I am the reason he’s sitting in suspension, I’m toast.
    â€œStella!” The tall blonde calls from the lunch line. “We’ve got your salad!”
    Stella waves, then looks down at me. “Listen, Charlie. Being more popular is the best way to survive middle school. But taking on the school’s biggest bully is not a good idea.” She pokes the front of my shirt. “You better lie low for a while, okay?”
    I’m about to tell her that lying low is what I’ve been trying to do all along, but she’s already walking back toward the lunch line. “I want fat-free ranch!” she calls out.
    *   *   *
    For the rest of the week, my appetite stays gone, and I can’t stomach more than a couple of bites of my dad’s whole wheat pancakes. He makes me drink lemon balm tea instead.
    Something’s off with Franki, too. She stops meeting me before school and spends our lunch periods in the library, claiming she’s behind on homework. On Saturday, when I stop by to see if she wants to go to the beach, no one answers the door. I decide to wander down to the soccer field instead.
    When I get there, I see Grant. He’s kicking ball after ball at the net, but he’s missing it every time.
    After a while, he looks up. “Watch this,” he says when he sees me. He places the ball in the grass, backs up a foot, then runs toward it and kicks. I know he’s aiming for the top right corner of the net. Instead, the ball sails over it.
    â€œI don’t get it,” he mutters as much to himself as to me. “It’s like I’ve lost my mojo.”
    I wonder if this has anything to do with the locker incident. Grant’s ability to score is the best thing our team has going for it. Without it, the Gloucester Hurricanes are going to pummel us on Thursday.
    I raise my fist in the air. “Come on, Grant!” I holler. “The next game’s in five days. We need you!”
    â€œThanks for the reminder, pal.” He jogs away from me toward the sidelines and his ball.
    *   *   *
    On Monday, I wake up to a strange noise. It doesn’t take long to realize it’s coming from Lucy’s room. I try to sneak past it on my way downstairs, but my mom’s voice stops me.
    â€œCharlie,” she says. She’s sitting on the edge of my sister’s bed, my dad next to her. Lucy squats on the floor in front of them. “Can you come here for a minute?”
    I shuffle in.
    â€œShe’s upset but won’t tell us why,” my dad says, his face pinchy. “Maybe you can try?”
    I look at Lucy. Her brown eyes are watering, and her hair looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. Every time she opens her mouth, a howl comes out. I bend down next to her.
    â€œLucy,” I say, my voice low, “why are you acting like this?”
    She stops howling and cocks her head to the side.
    â€œIt’s not funny anymore,” I whisper. “Can’t you see you’re freaking everybody