This one was inspired by a charity event at our school last Thursday. The theme at ours was Film and TV, but everything else happened exactly as I’ve told it here… 🙂

 

In a small house, in a long row of small houses, lived Mr Amazing. As the sun crept through his window, he woke, stretched and lifted his legs out of bed.

On most mornings, Mr Amazing would slouch to the bathroom, perform his ablutions and slouch downstairs. He’d tuck into a bowl of cereals, whilst maintaining that soft sort of grumble normally mastered by single men who know their clubbing days are far behind them.

Today was different.

Today, Mr Amazing leapt from his bed with the life and irritating chirpiness of a five year old on Christmas morning. He bounded into the bathroom, performed his ablutions with an alacrity that amazed even him and took the stairs two at a time. As he tucked into his cereal, he flicked on the news.

‘…Schools all over the country will be taking part. This is being called the single biggest charity event the country has ever seen.’

Mr Amazing settled his spoon on the side of his bowl and beamed at the TV. The newscaster went on.

‘The theme this year is superheroes, which I know my children are very excited about. We’ll be visiting schools all through the day and bringing you pictures of the best costumes, so stay tuned.’

She continued but Mr Amazing had already drifted away into wonderful thoughts of what lay ahead. He had twenty four hours, not even that, and he was determined to make the most of it. Cereals finished, he headed back up stairs and opened his cupboard. He leant in and pressed the small button hidden behind his trousers and leather-elbowed tweed suits. The movement was unconscious, but there was something wonderfully fresh about doing it with the sun coming through the window that made his stomach perform back flips.

He chuckled as the back of the wardrobe slid aside and he stepped into the dark space behind. The lights came up as he put his weight on the floor and he checked the cave. The weapons racks were untouched and his cleaning stone was empty. It had been a quiet week.

His suits hung on their stands and he paused before them. He’d been using the night suit for so long he rarely even looked at the day suit. But it was definitely a day suit kind of day. He took down the lycra tights and top and pulled them on. He wrinkled his nose at the mustiness, then attached his utility belt, clipped on his cloak and slid into his boots.

The mask came last. He checked himself in the mirror and smiled. The kids would think the six pack was part of the suit. Despite the lack of use, the reds and blacks were still vibrant and the yellow stitching, still damn classy. He gave himself the thumbs up and turned to the weapons rack. He chuckled and turned away. He didn’t need them today. Unless his year ten maths set turned nasty. He almost turned back, but headed for the exit before he got any bad ideas.

He stepped back through the wardrobe and the door slid closed behind him. As he approached the front door, his pulse sped up like it hadn’t in years. He did this every night, but this time was tougher than all of those. He picked up his briefcase, took a deep breath and opened the front door.

Miss Ellis was just strolling down her front path with her shopping bags. She did a double take, then smiled and waved. ‘Morning, John, great costume. Your kids are going to die.’

‘I hope not, Miss Ellis.’

‘You won’t be saying that by the last lesson of the day!’

He laughed obediently and climbed into his Mini. There was another jarring juxtaposition as he put the key into the ignition instead of pressing the button hidden just beneath the steering column. The regular engine coughed reluctantly into life and he was off.

 

The corridors were quiet when he arrived and set about getting his lessons ready for the day. The noise levels outside in the playground slowly rose and after a while he stopped and took a look. It was a wonderful sight.

There was a good scattering of the navy and brown uniform of Channelside school, but amongst them ran hundreds of Spidermans, Supermans, Batmans and, he was pleased to note, a good number of Wonder Women and Black Canarys. The playground was awash with superheroes.

His smile froze and his hand gripped the back of the chair as the most horrible thought struck him. Everyone knew who the kids were being. Everyone knew Superman and Spiderman. But who was he? He was Mr Amazing, but no one knew Mr Amazing, because he operated in secret. He wasn’t to be found in the pages of a comic or on the screen.

What was he going to say?

He paced away from the window, drumming his fingers against his utility belt. This was a problem.

The door was flung open before his thoughts could spiral any further out of control and Dave strolled in. He wore a suit and a long rain mac and looked smarter than usual. Dave Ashworth was the youngest in the maths department and probably belonged in PE, though John wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

They looked at one another and Dave broke into a huge grin. ‘Mate, you couldn’t even find a real comic book character?’

‘Yeah, well, I me—’

‘Don’t get me wrong, Mr Incredible is cool, but— Hey, hang on, ‘No Cloaks, absolutely no cloaks.’

His impression of the costume designer from the Incredibles was remarkably good and John was so relieved at receiving help from such an unexpected source that he burst out laughing. ‘Yeah, I know, I just fancied having one. Looks pretty good though, eh?’

Dave paced around him, nodding. ‘Absolutely. Bloody hell, mate, how long did it take?’

‘Oh the lady next door helped out. She loves all that sewing stuff.’ It wasn’t completely untrue. She had done lots of the stitching, just not all at the same time. He hadn’t really thought about the similarity, but short of putting a bloody great A on his chest, it was tough these days to find an original costume design.

‘So who are you then?’ John asked

Dave thumped the lapel of his great coat. ‘I’m Constantine.’

‘Constantine? Like Hellblazer? He’s not a superhero.’

‘Close enough.’

‘Close enough, my arse. You just wanted to dress up smart for the day, which I must say makes a nice change.’

‘Yeah, well, Michelle in IT said she was coming as Wonder Woman, so I’m making a good impression, aren’t I?’

John laughed and shook his head. ‘Sorry to disappoint, but she’s got a kick arse Hulk suit on.’

‘What?’ Dave’s eyes widened and he raced, muttering, from the room. John laughed and turned back to his desk. Actually, he really hoped Michelle had come as Wonder Woman, that would be well worth seeing. He shook his head and sat, flicking on his computer and taking a breath. Michelle was five years younger, ludicrously pretty and far more interested in someone like Dave. Someone who had a social life and didn’t go out at nights dressed in Lycra.

Actually, Dave liked cycling, so maybe he did. Still, it wasn’t the same.

 

John had promised himself he wouldn’t use any powers. Wearing the suit should be enough. He was on his best behaviour until break, which was when it started to slip.

He stood on the back playground on duty, as per usual, and watched the maelstrom of children, running, flirting, chatting, shouting, hitting, laughing, eating and generally causing chaos as they swept around him. Now and then one would wave and he’d give his awkward wave back. Maths wasn’t a cool subject and he wasn’t a cool teacher, so he could never decide whether they were taking the piss.

He’d had plenty of compliments on the suit, though, and they were genuine.

The tell-tale roar of a fight beginning made him start running. It was on the field, away from the buildings, and now the centre of a growing horde of children. Within moments he was wading through them, shoving them aside and demanding they ‘GET AWAY’. He wasn’t sure why he shouted it, because it never worked.

A break-time fight was like curtains to kittens, utterly irresistible. He peered over the press, trying to see who was involved. He saw a fist fly up then down, and redoubled his efforts. Fists was serious.

Across the press he saw Michelle, Miss Themies at the moment, coming in from the other direction. She saw him and smiled in the tired, frustrated yet endlessly patient way all the best teachers had. He smiled back and found himself blushing as he waded through the last few miscreants.

As they realised he was there, they backed away, the front runners trying to hide their faces in a vaguely guilty way. Thomas was on the floor and Musa was on top of him, driving his fists against the poor boy’s upraised arms. There wasn’t any blood that he could see. What he could see were tears streaming down Musa’s face, which was never a good sign.

He was wearing a Spidey costume. It was the sort that came from a really bad fancy dress shop and certainly cost less than the fancy, home made Daredevil outfit Thomas was trying frantically to keep clean. John was about to raise his voice when he glanced down at his costume, shrugged and smiled.

He leapt forward, picked Musa up by the scruff of the neck, did the same for Thomas and carried both thirteen year olds kicking and shouting out of the press. He caught sight of Michelle staring open mouthed from the corner of his eye. He thought about jumping the huge group of children that insisted on trying to pull him down like some malevolent wave, but that would have been harder to explain.

He carried them into the building, set them on their feet and demanded an explanation. As suspected, Thomas had decided to cuss Musa’s costume and paid the price. A few minutes later the two boys, suitably contrite, wandered disconsolately to their head of year’s office and John stepped back into the playground.

Michelle was waiting, arms folded and looking every inch like her costume was made for her. John bit his lip and tried not to stare at all the naked flesh on show. It was tricky, but he found himself captured by her striking dark eyes and then breathing, talking and indeed doing much of anything except staring became difficult.

‘Have you been working out, John?’

He shrugged. ‘They weren’t that big.’

‘Come on, be honest. I didn’t know you were into anything except maths.’

‘I’m not into it, I just believe in being healthy.’

She laughed. It was a dirty sort of laugh, rough and in the back of her throat. He thought it was dirty. It might have been taking the piss. He just didn’t know. He’d spent half of the winter chasing the Evil Rat Badger around London and failed to catch him again and again. The frustration of those times was nothing compared to how he felt now.

‘There’s healthy and then there’s beefcake. You just picked up a child in each hand. And Musa’s pretty big.’

He shrugged again. ‘You look great.’

She blushed and looked down at herself. ‘Thanks. Funny how you don’t think about the kids seeing you when you put it on in the morning.’

John laughed. ‘I know just what you mean. Still, it suits you.’

‘Does it now? You think I should wear this every day?’

He opened his mouth, but once again his brain got in the way and he stammered a bit before she patted him on the shoulder. ‘Just joking, don’t have a heart attack. I’m not sure the head would be too pleased.’

‘I know I would.’ It came out before he could catch it and his cheeks bloomed bright red. The smile she gave him was definitely more than just a friendly smile and he managed to unclench his toes in his boots as she said, ‘Well, I’m sure I could wear it for you some other time…’

There was an invitation there. She was asking him something, he just had to work out how to answer without making a tit of himself. He opened his mouth and the bell sounded from its place on the wall all of three feet away. The sound drove them away from the doorway, hands clasped over their ears. The moment was over and John watched helplessly as she waved, smiled and headed off for period three.