CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE ZIBLINGS

Conner’s handwriting wiggled and zoomed through the air as the world of “The Ziblings” was created around him and his sister. The word highway stretched beneath their feet, and Alex and Conner were suddenly standing in the middle of a wide country road. Cars and large trucks honked and swerved to avoid them, and they dashed to the side of the highway to avoid getting hit.

Alex and Conner looked up and saw a large city-limits sign above them. The sign read:

Once the handwritten words finished constructing the new dimension, the twins saw that the highway led to an enormous city a couple of miles in the distance. It had the tallest and leanest skyscrapers Alex had ever seen; the skyline looked more like a bundle of pencils and pens than a row of buildings.

“Big City, USA?” Alex asked. “You couldn’t come up with anything more original than that?”

“It was supposed to be a placeholder until I came up with a better name, but Big City, USA, grew on me,” Conner said. “Now let’s go to the bank before it gets robbed without us.”

Alex laughed. “Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before,” she said.

The twins walked down the road and entered the busy city. The world of the Ziblings was like a highly exaggerated version of the Otherworld. The buildings were more colorful, the streets were cleaner, and the cars were shinier. Even the people were more extravagant. The men were taller and had broader shoulders and wider jaws. The women had impeccable hair, makeup, and clothes. Even the children were cuter and better behaved. It was like the twins had entered a 1950s cartoon.

Alex and Conner zigzagged through the city streets. They walked down Main Street, made a right on Center Road, and then a left on First Avenue. Alex wasn’t sure which city Conner was emulating for “The Ziblings” setting because Big City, USA, had characteristics of every American city she could think of. There were subway stations like in New York City, bridges like in San Francisco, surrounding Great Lakes like in Chicago, and BIG CITY, USA, was written across a hillside like the Hollywood sign.

They eventually found Big City Bank, in the middle of First Avenue. It was a large white building with thick pillars and a massive dome. It reminded Alex of the Capitol Building in Washington, DC. The twins walked up the front steps and went inside.

The bank had marble floors, golden pillars, and wooden counters. There were high ceilings, tall windows, and lots of elaborate lighting structures. A long line of Big City citizens waited patiently to be helped by one of a dozen bank tellers. There were also desks scattered throughout the bank where bankers helped other citizens open new accounts and apply for loans. No one appeared to have been rejected, because all the applicants had big smiles on their faces as they happily shook the bankers’ hands.

Conner took his sister to the far end of the bank, near a back door. He got down on the floor, lay facedown, and put his hands over his head.

“Are you doing yoga?” Alex asked.

“No, I’m getting ready,” he said. “We’re just in time.”

“For what?”

“The robbery,” he said, as if it were obvious. “It should be starting in five… four… three… two…”

Five armed robbers stormed into the bank. They wore all black and had mouse ears and whiskers attached to their masks. The robbers fired their guns into the air to get everyone’s attention. It was startling even to Alex, and she’d known it was coming.

“Everyone on the ground now!” the largest robber shouted. “Facedown with your hands on your heads! No talking! Don’t make me tell you twice!”

The citizens screamed and did what they were told. Alex joined her brother on the floor and copied his pose. The robbers threw big duffel bags on the wooden counters and pointed their guns at the tellers.

“Empty the safe!” the largest robber shouted. “And don’t you dare try any funny business or I’ll blow you all to the sky!”

The trembling tellers did what the robbers demanded. They opened the gigantic safe in the back of the bank and began filling the duffel bags with stacks of cash and bars of gold.

“What’s up with the ears and whiskers on their masks?” Alex whispered to her brother.

“It’s part of their gimmick,” he said. “These guys are called the Rat Pack—they’re the most infamous bank robbers in Big City, USA. The tallest one’s name is Frank, he’s the leader, and then there are his henchmen: Sammy, Dean, Joey, and Peter.”

“Just like the Rat Pack from the sixties!” Alex said.

Conner scrunched his forehead. “Dang it!” he said. “I thought I made it up—I must have heard about them from someone.”

“You two! I said no talking!” Frank yelled, pointing his gun at the twins.

Alex and Conner went silent. The Rat Pack walked around the bank and patrolled their hostages. They nudged the terrified citizens with their feet and laughed wildly as the hostages cowered and squirmed. After a few minutes of lying uncomfortably on the floor and watching the robbers torment the men and women, Alex was very eager to see the Ziblings come to the rescue. It was taking all her self-control not to transform the Rat Pack into actual rodents.

Conner tapped his sister and gestured to one of the windows. Alex looked up and saw the silhouette of a man wearing a cape. He stood heroically with his hands on his hips. Alex was so excited to see a real superhero that her stomach filled with butterflies, but the feeling quickly subsided. It took a moment for the superhero to enter the bank, not because he was conducting a plan, but because he couldn’t open the window.

Finally, with a strong tug, the hero managed to pry it open. He crawled through the small opening, but then he stepped on his cape and slipped off the windowsill. He crashed onto the floor behind a desk with a very loud thump. Everyone in the bank heard the crash and jerked their head toward it. The Rat Pack clutched their guns tighter and slowly approached the desk. The hostages waited on pins and needles, hoping it was someone who had come to their rescue.

The superhero jumped out from behind the desk and struck the same heroic pose he had held in the window. After a closer look, Alex was surprised to see he was actually an adorable boy no more than twelve years old. He wore a sky-blue suit and a dark blue mask, with matching gloves, boots, and cape. He had messy dark hair, plump cheeks, and green eyes.

Upon seeing him, the robbers snickered and the hostages lost all hope. Apparently no one had much faith in the hero’s capability.

“Don’t worry, boys, it’s just Bolt.” Frank laughed. “The Ziblings have sent the runt of the litter!”

Bolt shifted uncomfortably at the blatant disrespect.

“Hello, Rat Pack,” the boy said in a tone obviously deeper than his real voice. “I see you’ve escaped prison and gone right back to your old tricks. I guess you can take the rats out of the garbage, but you can’t take the garbage out of the rats!”

“‘But you can’t take the garbage out of the rats,’” Frank mocked him. “You really need to work on your playful jargon if you want to be taken seriously.”

“And you need to work on following the law,” Bolt said. “Good thing there are people like me to put you back in your place!”

Frank turned to his henchmen. “Get him,” he said. “But don’t waste your bullets—he isn’t worth it.”

The boy’s face turned bright red. “Oh, yes I am!” he argued. “I’m worth all the bullets you got!”

Bolt became angry and his superpowers were activated. His body was covered in static electricity, his messy hair rose above his head, and tiny electric waves buzzed around his fingertips. Bolt somersaulted toward Frank, and with the lightest touch of his index finger, he zapped the robber on the leg.

“Ouch,” Frank said. “That almost hurt a little.”

The boy cartwheeled to Sammy and Dean and shocked them on the arms. He dived to the other side of the bank and zapped Joey on the nose and Peter on the ear. Bolt was very proud of himself, but his efforts did little to wound the Rat Pack. They just looked more irritated than before.

“I changed my mind. Shoot him,” Frank instructed.

Bolt flew through the air to avoid the bullet, not with the grace of an eagle or a hawk, but with the clumsiness of a baby bird. His erratic flight pattern made it very difficult for the Rat Pack to aim their guns at him, so they flipped their weapons over and swung them like baseball bats. Frank knocked Bolt out of the air and the not-so-super-hero hit the floor.

“Tie him up,” Frank ordered, and eyed the hostages. “And for the rest of you—show’s over, back to work!”

The Rat Pack tied Bolt to a chair and the tellers continued emptying the vault. Eventually the vault was cleared out entirely and the duffel bags were bulging with cash and gold. The tellers handed the bags back to the Rat Pack and the robbers headed for the door. Bolt tried to free himself from the restraints, but they were too strong.

“This transaction has been a pleasure,” Frank announced to the bank. “See you next time!”

Suddenly, a thunderous crash came from above. Three more superheroes dropped in from the domed ceiling—the rest of the Ziblings had arrived!

The oldest Zibling was about sixteen and very athletic. He wore a bright yellow tank top, baggy yellow pants, big sneakers, and a headband. His muscly arms were bare and caught fire as soon as he touched the ground.

The second-oldest Zibling was a fifteen-year-old girl. She wore a pink suit with a built-in miniskirt. She had sandy-blond hair that was braided into two long pigtails. She had complete control over her hair and twirled her braids like the blades of a helicopter until she came to a safe landing.

The third-oldest Zibling wore a dark green suit and a leather jacket. Instead of a mask, he wore very dark sunglasses. His arms transformed into large feathered wings as he glided to the floor, then transformed back once he landed.

All the citizens, tellers, and bankers sighed with relief at the older Ziblings’ arrival. The Rat Pack robbers simultaneously gulped and eyed one another nervously. Bolt rolled his eyes at his siblings’ splashy entrance—he had been hoping to handle the Rat Pack without them.

“Hello, Frank, Sammy, Dean, Joey, and Peter,” the oldest said, acting as the Ziblings’ leader. “Have you come out of the sewer for fresh air?”

“Hello, Blaze, Whipney, and Morph,” Frank said. “Have you come to save your little brother?”

“I don’t need to be saved!” Bolt said. “Being tied to this chair is part of my plan, which you guys are kind of ruining!”

The Ziblings ignored their little brother as if he weren’t even in the room. They locked eyes with the Rat Pack and never looked away.

“We’ve come to take you and your boys back to prison, Frank,” Blaze said. “You belong in a cage just like all the other rodents.”

The Ziblings charged toward the Rat Pack and the robbers ran for the door.

Morph jumped in front of them and transformed into a brick wall. His sunglasses were his only remaining physical trait. He was now blocking the robbers’ exit, so they ran for the back door. Whipney whipped her head back and forth and her braids wrapped around Sammy’s and Dean’s ankles. She raised them into the air and knocked them into each other, and they fell unconscious to the ground.

Joey and Peter aimed their guns at Blaze. He pointed at them and two fiery geysers blasted out of his fingertips. The robbers were set on fire and they dropped to the floor and rolled around to extinguish the flames. Morph transformed into a huge cage and Whipney scooped up Dean, Sammy, Joey, and Peter with her hair and threw the robbers inside it. They had caught all the rats in the pack except for one.

Frank jumped over the wooden counter and ran to the back of the bank. He jumped inside the vault and locked the enormous metal door behind him. Blaze followed him and pressed his palms against the vault door. He heated the vault so much, the door turned bright orange and melted away. Whipney reached into the vault with her hair, pulled Frank out, and tossed him into the cage with the others.

The bank hostages leaped to their feet in celebration. They cheered and applauded their rescuers. Everyone was thrilled the Ziblings had saved another day in Big City, USA—everyone but Bolt.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Blaze told his little brother.

“Why?” Bolt said. “I had everything under control before you showed up.”

“You know the rules,” Whipney said. “No crime fighting until your homework is done, and Dad doesn’t want you doing it without us!”

“I can take care of myself,” Bolt said. “I can do anything you guys can, you just never give me the chance! You never let me prove myself!”

“Prove yourself?” said the cage Morph had turned into. “You can’t get out of that chair!”

“How are you supposed to help people if you can’t even help yourself?” Whipney said.

Tears came to Bolt’s eyes and he looked away from his siblings. It was an expression layered with embarrassment, frustration, self-doubt, and heartache all in one. Alex knew that look. She could have sworn she’d seen it somewhere before.

Suddenly, memories surfaced like a movie playing in her mind. Alex flashed back to when she and Conner were in elementary school.

“Let’s go around the room and say what we all want to be when we grow up,” their second-grade teacher told the class.

“A doctor!” said a boy.

“A senator!” said a girl.

“A teacher!” Alex remembered saying.

Her brother sat up at his desk, excited to share his answer.

“A fireman!” he said. “I want to help people!”

Even then, Conner wasn’t as good a student as Alex was. He had trouble learning to read, how to spell, and how to do math. He was always asking Alex for help with his homework and she became mad that he couldn’t keep up with her. So when Conner gave his answer about his plans for the future, Alex was inclined to respond.

“A fireman?” she asked. “How are you supposed to help people if you can’t help yourself?”

Everyone in the class laughed. Alex didn’t mean any harm by it; she was so young, it just slipped out of her mouth. Even though it had happened almost ten years before, the expression on Conner’s face had been engraved in her memory forever. It was exactly how Bolt looked at his siblings now.

Soon, the front steps of the bank were filled with police and reporters. Morph transformed back into his human form and he, Whipney, and Blaze pushed the Rat Pack robbers outside and into the hands of the police. The Ziblings spoke with the reporters about what had happened. They took all the credit and soaked up the attention, leaving Bolt tied to the chair inside.

“Now’s a good time to sneak into the Zibling Mobile,” Conner whispered to Alex.

The twins exited the Big City Bank through the back door and Alex followed Conner into the alley behind it. The Zibling Mobile was a bright red convertible with rocket engines and a bright yellow Z painted on the side. The car was parked out of sight between two dumpsters, but Conner knew exactly where to find it.

He felt around the back tire and pulled a spare key out of a hidden compartment. He opened the trunk and crawled inside it.

“Come on,” Conner said, and offered his sister a hand.

Alex hesitated before joining him. Something heavy was weighing on her heart.

“Quick question,” she said. “Is this story based on anything that happened in real life? Anything that might have happened between us?”

Conner thought about it, but shook his head.

“Nope, this one is completely made up,” he said. “I just loved superheroes when I was a kid. ‘The Ziblings’ was one of the first stories I ever wrote.”

Alex didn’t press the issue further; she just nodded and climbed into the trunk with him.

Conner may have forgotten what happened in the second grade, but Alex couldn’t shake it. It wasn’t just the mean exchange in elementary school that bothered her, though. Alex was worried “The Ziblings” was much closer to home than Conner realized, and that she might be the story’s villain.