Supergifted by Gordon Korman

Author:Gordon Korman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

14

SUPERK.I.S.S.

DONOVAN CURTIS

Something I never would have believed possible: Noah was getting weirder.

Fame was doing it to him. He had played many roles in his life: genius, nerd, outcast, robotics whiz. None of these had prepared him for what he had to deal with now: celebrity.

When he walked down the hall, people scrambled to get near him, high-five him, fist-bump him, be noticed by him. He was constantly being asked to relive the moment he performed his heroics. With each retelling, the story became more daring, hair-raising, death defying, and downright miraculous.

He posed for so many selfies that he was late to every class. But that was okay. The teachers worshipped him almost as much as their students did. The school newspaper published a special Superkid issue, and the yearbook devoted a double-page spread to him. A letter to the Post even suggested that the building should be renamed Hardcastle-Youkilis Middle School. Dr. Schultz promised to take it up at the next board meeting.

The Daniels loved it—mostly because they enjoyed watching me squirm.

“That’s got to hurt,” Nussbaum commiserated, all the while grinning like an idiot. “You know, watching somebody else get famous for what you did.”

“Yeah, it should be Hardcastle-Donovan Middle School,” Sanderson added in sympathy.

“Not so loud!” I hissed. “Okay, so it bothers me a little. But it’s better than everyone finding out it was me.”

Even Noah’s fiercest critic—Hash Taggart—was warming toward the local hero.

The same Hashtag who’d been about to pound Noah into hamburger if Beatrice hadn’t chomped him. Hashtag—the only reason Noah had been on Staunton Street that fateful morning in the first place.

Suddenly, the injured lacrosse star’s face began to appear in the crowd that was always around Noah. Every day at lunch, Hashtag moved a space or two closer at Noah’s cafeteria table. When a sixth grader pushed ahead of Noah in line for the drinking fountain, Hashtag practically body-checked the poor kid halfway down the hall. Whether he wanted one or not, Noah had a brand-new BFF.

The kinder, gentler Hashtag applied to Noah only. He was still off the lacrosse team, still playing wounded warrior with his big fat arm in a sling and blaming me for it. As soon as that big fat arm was out of the sling, he promised, he would use it to teach me a lesson I wouldn’t soon forget. At least, that was before the superkid talked him out of it.

“You’re lucky Noah likes you, man!” he told me. “Otherwise you wouldn’t get off so easy for siccing your hairball on me!”

Another reason why I was getting mercy was that the lacrosse team was on a winning streak, despite the absence of their star. What was their secret? The superkid. He was an inspiration. And since Noah was a cheerleader, he was always on the sidelines to lift their flagging spirits.

That was another thing about Noah’s new fame. Nobody seemed to notice what a terrible cheerleader he was anymore. Brad always complained that celebrities had a free pass at life.

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