Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a Supervillain by Richard Roberts Page B

It’s stronger than you wanted, but that’s the only way it works. It’s funny, because, you know, supervillains try to make this stuff all the time, but they keep trying to make soldiers. They design it to make people more aggressive, better fighters, and that always goes wrong. If they just tried to give you better muscle tone and stuff, it works. So I’m calling it the Super Cheerleader Serum. Do I sound drunk?” I had to tack on the last, because I sounded drunk to me. Drunk on pride, maybe. Like creating life, this was another milestone every super-powered scientist went through, but mine would work because I hadn’t overreached.
    Claire reached out and took the bowl gingerly in both hands. “So I just drink this?”
    The image in my brain objected. “No! This is way too much. Here.” That plastic bottle cap would do. I poured just enough in, and set the bowl down on the table. “That much. About a milliliter.” I knew because…
    The picture in my head was gone. I let out my breath heavily and leaned against the bench. “It’s up to you if you want to drink it.”
    Claire grabbed me suddenly, yanking me up onto my feet and giving me a tight hug. “You are the best friend I could have, do you know that?” she whispered into my ear.
    “Say that after you’ve tried it,” I warned her. Now I was tired. Not in a muscle ache way, just drained.
    She let go of me, picked up the bottle cap, and drank it. That fast, with no ceremony.
    I stared at her. So did Ray.
    “I can feel it. It tingles! No, it stopped. Um,” Claire reported, staring at nothing. She stepped away from the table, took another long step, stretched out her arms, and did a lazy cartwheel. She let out a loud giggle, turned, and took two much faster steps, then jumped up and did a front flip in mid-air, landing heavily on her sneakers. She wobbled, but didn’t fall.
    “It—” I started to say.
    I didn’t get the chance. Claire sprinted across the room and yanked me up off the floor, arms squeezing me tight as she spun me around. Ow. She was stronger, all right!
    “You are the best friend I could ever have, Penny! I wonder what more of the serum would have done?” she crowed, while I got dizzy from the spinning.
    Ray picked up the cue. “Only one way to find out.”
    Claire put me down, hopefully to tell him that she wasn’t going to take more. Instead, we watched Ray lift the bowl and drink the whole thing in three swallows.
    Holy carp.
    “Ray, that’s dangerous!” I squeaked.
    “I’m sure it’s fine,” he snorted, setting the bowl down. Then he grabbed his shoulders, and his voice turned hoarse. “Did you say it tingled? Because my muscles are burning!”
    “Ray!” I bolted a step toward him, only to be met with raised hands.
    “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! It only works on Claire. You talk to yourself while you work,” he assured me with a huge, sly grin.
    I punched him in the shoulder. Hard. Of course, I personally have the muscle tone of a plate of spaghetti noodles, and I winced more than he did. “You idiot. It wasn’t funny this time!”
    His grin didn’t falter. “Claire, who’s your best friend?” he asked over my shoulder.
    “Penny is!” Claire let out a squeal, and I got yanked off the ground and hugged from behind again. Then she let me go and started cartwheeling around the room in circles.
    The Super Cheerleader Serum was a success. Could I make some for myself?
    Apparently not. Nothing popped into my head. Maybe the super brain didn’t like repeating itself.

    Friday.
    It had been quite a week. I ate breakfast in silence and lurked in the seat of Mom’s car. I was looking forward to a quiet day, and then the weekend. Maybe I’d talk to Ray and Claire about skipping out on rebuilding the lair this afternoon. We could go shopping instead, or get in a few games of Teddy Bears And Machine Guns, or both. There had to be one day this week without a major life event.
    That quiet feeling lasted right up