Heroes of Perpetua Read online

  Hugo smiled up at her. Look at my straight teeth that have never seen a cavity thanks to my dutiful brushing.

  She frowned.

  Wait, that didn’t go over fantastic. Flashing his teeth had worked well lately. It also reminded them that they were saving a ton of money because it appeared that he wouldn’t need braces. Plus, like, you know, no cavities.

  “It’s a great game, Mom. You hunt treasure and it has science and stuff in it.” Thinking he might not be selling it well, he added, “Like when you enter a planet’s atmosphere, you have to achieve the correct speed and angle of descent, so you don’t burn up. And if you haven’t upgraded your ship with enough armor plating, some planets there’s no way you can make it planetside.”

  “And does it show your character burning up just as graphically as what I just saw?”

  He left out that the spacesuit gloves melted followed by the flesh going up in smoke to expose the bones underneath. He’d died several times just to bask in the scene’s disgusting glory. “Um, no. It’s first person. You only see your hands.”

  “And the guns you’re pointing all about.” She nodded at the screen.

  “It’s my starbow.” Sometimes, he could drive her off by blathering on and on about super specific details of a game. “I have the disrupter bolts right now. They work primarily against any robot threat. You need to—”

  “Hugo, I don’t really have time right now.”

  His headphones slipped past his shoulder-length blonde hair and wrapped around his neck. The action felt like the accessory recognized it was a lost cause and was surrendering.

  Hugo, however, wasn’t about to admit defeat. “Look, I don’t play it when Katie’s up. She’s still napping, right?”

  “Oh, you most definitely won’t. And yes, she’s still sleeping.” She took a step back, standing in the doorframe of the small playroom. Half the space was his, and that was where his game chair, flatscreen, and game console sat, while the other half was overwhelmed by pastel bins filled with giant Lego Duplo blocks, and stuffed animals, and some weird unicorn mushroom dolls that Hugo found more disturbing than any video game he’d ever played. Not that he’d win the argument by pointing that out.

  She released an exaggerated Mom sigh, patent pending. “You can play your space game when she’s not around.”

  Wait, this was too easy. He stiffened. There had to be a catch.

  “Provided you honestly hear your father and I out on a proposal.”

  What? Their proposals were never good. He always wound up having to do them. They were more like suggested orders. Your father and I think spending a week with your grandparents would do you a world of good. He was still waiting for that excessive amount of good to fall in his lap. Your mother and I believe volunteering at the retirement center would expand your horizons. The only horizons he’d expanded had been building up his tolerance to giving wrinkly strangers foot baths. He held in check a shiver.

  Hugo had no choice. The proposal would come whether he wanted it to or not. He might as well get to keep his video game.

  “Okay.” He added an extra umph to his shoulder slump and reserved his eye-rolling for later in the privacy of his own room. That gesture really set her off, and he worked hard to spare himself the backlash. As much as rolling his eyes in real time would feel great, he wouldn’t survive the consequence. This is a zero-tolerance household when it comes to eye-rolling, Mister.

  “We’ll talk after dinner. Your dad is bringing home sushi.”

  He smiled, keeping his teeth firmly covered by his lips. His mom didn’t deserve his pearly whites.

  Sushi was a rare treat, reserved for good news at times, but also deployed quite frequently just before doomsday-level bad news struck.

  This proposal threatened to be something awful.

  Hugo lost his appetite for gaming and shut down the system. He pulled up YouTube on his phone and settled in to watch painful injury clips. He might as well deaden himself before true misery hit the Hammersmith household. Although, the bad news seemed reserved for just one select member of that elite force: him.

  ****

  The sushi was delicious. He’d gotten to have two whole rolls. He placed the only remaining piece of ginger atop his last bite and ushered in a moment of Zen. He closed his eyes, knowing his parents were already done with their meals and his mom was scooping out ice cream for Katie.

  He snatched up the sushi with his chopsticks. “Katie, watch this.”

  Hugo pried open one eye to make sure he had her attention. A spaghetti noodle still hung from her chin, and her shirt was a chaotic red inkblot of sauce. She clapped her hands together and shook her head, sending her red curls this way and that.

  He closed his eyes and touched the sushi to his bottom lip. He then drew it three inches forward. He felt a piece of rice stick to his lip. “Ready?” The rice fell off.

  “Weady.” She clapped two more times.

  “Ladies and cavemen, we are gathered here today to witness the sushi acrobatics of one Hugo Hammersmith. Direct your eyes to the stunningly handsome boy in the center ring.”

  “He would be if he got that mop of a head cut. Let me at those flowing locks with my sheep shears, boy.” His father spoke as if he were a ranch hand working in Big Sky country.

  “Many have tried, and all have failed to perform this feat of derring-do. Talking about you, Dad.”

  “You sabotaged my sushi toss, you no-good varmint.”

  Wow, way to double down on the cowboy humor.

  “Do it,” Katie squealed.

  Hugo bobbed the sushi up and down as if the tasty bite were buffeted by unseen waves.

  “Behold, the sushi toss of death.” He flicked his wrist and loosened his grip on the chopsticks. He waited half a second and opened his eyes. Hugo flopped wide his mouth and adjusted his position left and down. He again closed his eyes.

  The sushi fell perfectly into his mouth, only grazing the right side of his upper lip. It paid to have a big mouth. Hugo chewed it up as he raised both hands high in victory.

  Katie giggled and slapped the table.

  Their mom came over and placed a calming hand on it before she could get away with another.

  Katie spied the dessert in her other hand and let out a yum.

  She placed the bowl in front of his sister, and Katie dug in.

  His dad fetched bowls for the three of them, and they moved over to the family room, his mom picking the recliner closest to the kitchen so she could keep better tabs on Katie.

  “So we would like you to do something,” his dad said without any hint of a Wild West twang.

  That’s how a proposal works, Dad.

  “You’re doing well in school. Can’t complain there. Seventh grade agrees with you.”

  His dad sometimes talked awkwardly when he was trying to avoid getting to the point.

  “High school is just around the corner.” His dad took two quick bites.

  Hugo nodded.

  “And that’s really where you prove yourself ready for college. You work hard in class and you participate in extracurriculars. You know what that word means, don’t you?”

  “Yep, curriculars that are extra,” Hugo said.

  His mom gave Hugo a look like she honestly thought he didn’t know what the word meant.

  Hugo gave a more serious answer. “Sports and clubs and volunteering.” Oh, no. Not more washing of old people’s feet.

  “Right, because colleges want a well-rounded person.”

  Hugo stood, waving his empty bowl to show he’d slurped down the dessert in record time. “Great ice cream, Mom! You hit the sweet spot with the chocolate-syrup-to-ice-cream ratio. I hear you guys. High school starts up, you expect me to participate more.”

  “Um, no. It’s not that. Well, yes, it is that, but we want you to start now.”

  “Dad, I gave baseball, your sport of choice, a try for three years. Sports aren’t my thing.”

  “No, we’re not saying join a
team.” His dad waved at him to sit back down.

  He returned to the couch. “So more volunteering? Maybe I could cut grass for the Wilsons. They’re getting up in age, and I could do it for free. Pro bono. That always looks good, right?” It pleased Hugo that he knew the legal term for doing a task and not charging. Thank you very much, cop and lawyer shows.

  “Well, we have something in mind.” Could his mom’s smile be more strained?

  “Like?”

  “You need to get out of the house. All you do is stare at screens 24/7. And now you’re on your phone and on your game at the same time.” His dad tried to hide his exasperation, but it leaked out as he continued. “It’s not healthy. You need fresh air and Vitamin C from the sun.”

  “Vitamin D, Dad.”

  He frowned. “Whatever. The point is, when I was your age, I was running all around the neighborhood getting into trouble.”

  When I was your age? Really, Dad? Could that be anymore cliché? Hugo said, “You want me to be a troublemaker? We talkin’ big-time crimes, or misdemeanors?”

  His mom cut in, which was probably a good thing, as his dad looked ready to burst a blood vessel. “A beautification club.”

  He knew that didn’t mean hair and makeup. He also knew not to toss out that joke at the moment.

  “Your school has a garden club,” she said.

  He stiffened. “What? No. That club’s a bunch of sixth graders. I don’t want to tarnish my reputation.”

  “As what? The village hermit?” His dad chuckled to himself.

  Why did dad jokes always feel so dated? That one was positively medieval, literally. “No, it’s just there’s only like a couple people in it, and they’re all a little weird.” He really didn’t know who was in the group but thought it safe to assume only idiots would sign up to pull weeds on nights and weekends.

  “Well, Ms. Deavours, your old Science teacher from last year, runs it. You liked her.”

  Hugo did. He really did, but he wasn’t going to admit that now. He suddenly felt they had come prepared with excellent counterpoints. He wasn’t making his case, and they were nailing theirs.

  “Look, we don’t ask you to do much around here. It means staying after school one night a week and showing up every other Saturday morning. You can find the time.” His dad walked over and helped Katie off her chair. He escorted her over. Ice cream covered her face and hands.

  His mom snatched two tissues from the tissue box on the coffee table and cleaned her up. She then got Katie’s attention and talked to her in a coaching manner, meaning they’d rehearsed what to say and she was trying to trigger his sister’s wandering toddler brain to remember what would surely be an adorable line.

  “So, remember what we said about your brother working in the school garden?”

  Hugo found it sweet when his mom drew out her so’s. She’d done it a lot with him when he’d been knee-high to a grasshopper, a phrase she deployed often to describe his tiny self. He’d been short all his life, up until six months ago when he’d hit a growth spurt and was now the fifth tallest in his class. And if Tom Higgins would get his bushy hair chopped, Hugo could move into fourth.

  “We pick tomatoes.” She smiled at him.

  “No, silly. We do that at Grandma’s.” She took her daughter’s hands and rocked them back and forth as if they were about to dance together.

  Katie swayed and giggled.

  “The flowers, sweetie.”

  Katie’s toddler synapses connected. He could always tell when she did some stinkin’ thinkin’—the label his dad used to describe whenever someone dug deep and really pondered a question or topic. It sounded like an insult, but the stinking part referred to the idea that you worked your gray matter so hard that brain cells caught fire and your cranium gave off a burning smell. His dad had tried using it twice with Katie, but she was too young to understand and had cried thinking he thought she smelled funny. He looked at his dad, who appeared on the verge of spitting out the phrase a third time. Hugo sent him a mental order to stand down. Don’t do it, Pops. She’s still too young. Wait another year or six.

  Katie yanked her chubby fingers loose from her mom’s grip and trundled over to Hugo. She leaned on his knees. “Bring me flowers.”

  “Katie? Use your manners.” His mom smiled.

  “Please. Pretty flowers from your garden.” She leaned forward and kissed his chin and then raced around the coffee table to fetch a mushroom unicorn doll that had been wedged headfirst in the blue recliner’s seat cushion. She waved the doll about and then raced into the playroom singing a song about gingerbread, or as she pronounced it—gingabed.

  His parents looked at him expectantly.

  He shrugged and stood again. “I’ll give it a shot.” He nodded in the direction of his sister’s current whereabouts. “For the children.”

  His mom and dad exhaled in relief as if they’d been holding their breath for the last eight minutes or so. “You’re going to love it. I’ll email Ms. Deavours and tell her you’ll be at the school bright and early for your first gardening experience.”

  “Define bright and early, please.”

  “Eight o’clock Eastern time. And be glad it’s not Mountain time. No way you’d get up at six.”

  Please, Dad. No more time zone humor, as if there even is such a thing. Nothing funny about relaying the time in neighboring time zones. And they don’t work the way your joke says they work. Ugh.

  Hugo retreated to his room after he got them to agree that he could stay up to eleven and play video games in the playroom once he read a story to Katie. He’d watch videos until then.

  ****

  He had fifteen more minutes until he had to shut down. Hugo was determined to reach the next save point. He just needed to defend the lunar temple from the relic thieves. The lizard aliens launched another squadron of their drone ships, which looked like what you’d get if you mixed a biplane with a UFO.

  Hugo strapped into his gun turret for the ninth time. Ninth time is the charm.

  His parents were upstairs, still awake and likely reading or bingeing an old sitcom favorite on their bedroom Smart TV. He had all the lights off downstairs and was playing in the dark, something his mom would scold him for if she came down. She always worried that he was damaging his eyes trying to peer around in such poor lighting.

  The pitch-black room lit up with strobing flashes as he fired round after round of neon green energy bolts at his attackers. Taking out their four wings was key, and he already had half of the first wave wingless and crashing into nearby craters.

  His shield took two hits. It was at 50%. Two more blows and he’d have to hop to one of the other two remaining turrets arrayed along the temple’s perimeter.

  Hugo shot the left wings off a drone, causing the ship to collide with its neighbor. The resulting fireball was doubly impressive.

  His turret took two more hits, and he bailed. A second later, the turret exploded, producing an intense white light that cast the room in stark brightness.

  Hugo moved over to the next turret and strapped in. Before he could get off an opening shot, something thumped against the window behind him. He jumped and dropped his controller. He picked it up and glared at the lowered blinds. Some bird or big insect not watching where it was going, right?

  He resumed playing.

  A few seconds later, another thump, this one much harder, enough to rattle the glass. He worried that whatever was headbutting the window would break the pane. He paused his game and dashed over to the window. He lifted the blinds but could see nothing outside, neither flying at him nor laying stunned in the mulch below.

  He closed the blinds and returned to his game. Two minutes later, and in the thick of decimating the second wave, there were two loud thumps.

  He paused his game and looked up at the ceiling, thinking his parents had to have heard those and would come down.

  Another minute passed, but neither parent stumbled down the stairs. Maybe they’d fallen a
sleep.

  Well, he didn’t like not knowing. And the ‘not knowing’ overruled his common sense, which was pestering him not to go outside and risk an attack by something. It was just an animal. No way was there a burglar outside. What thief banged against the glass, announcing they were about to perform a B and E?

  He slipped on his sneakers and exited out the back door onto the wooden deck. The floodlight was on, and he suddenly felt exposed. He rushed off the deck and into the yard, putting enough distance between him and light that he no longer felt conspicuous.

  Hugo kept his back to the light and peered into the darkness, blinking several times to help him better adjust to the dark. What wouldn’t he do for a pair of night-vision goggles right now!

  In a slight crouch, he approached the window in question. If the creature responsible for the racket was still flying about, Staying low made him feel less of a target. Although, his blond hair probably could be seen from a Google satellite even in the dark.

  Because the floodlight’s brilliance reached out this far, he could see well enough, and everything wasn’t in complete shadows. A bush slightly blocked the window, but the lower left section was exposed. It would be a tight fit, but a small bird could fly into the lowest pane there.

  He dropped to one knee and inspected the mulch bed. No animal or big bug twitched on the ground. And nothing was flailing about or lying unconscious in the bush’s tangled and thorny branches.

  Hugo felt foolish. Whatever had rammed into the house was gone, likely spooked by his presence. He looked up at the cloudy sky, scanning for anything flying around. No silhouettes of soaring birds, bats, or owls appeared. A few lightning bugs made their presence known, but any insect capable of making such an impact had to be like Egyptian-scarab size. And Arnold’s Lake, Pennsylvania, was a far cry from the deserts of Egypt. Neither was there a museum nearby to explain a scarab’s appearance. Of course, the scarabs on display there wouldn’t be alive, so his lame joke was a flop. Hey, they can’t all be great!

  Suddenly, something smacked into the nape of his neck. Small claws grabbed hold of Hugo’s hair, and membranous wings swatted his right ear and the entire left side of his face. He whacked at whatever stuck fast to him, his hands encountering smooth hard skin, not feather or fur.