by Joe Mosher
Published June 2015
ISBN: 978-1-4835-5649-9
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Chapter One
It was all fun and games until lightning struck the lasagna.
The Red Cloak School cafeteria was a riot of noise and activity when Hunter Maximus strolled in. Evening mealtime had started ten minutes ago and nearly all of the school’s one hundred and seventeen students had already gotten their food and found seats. There were no assigned tables but they mostly clustered by grade level: second- and third-graders up front near the door to the staff lounge, tenth-graders congregated at the rear tables. Near the middle of the room were Hunter’s peers, the sixth-grade superheroes.
Hunter waved but no one waved back. None of his classmates were looking in his direction; they hadn’t yet noticed he was there. They all seemed to be looking at something outside the cafeteria’s tall narrow windows. Hunter craned his neck but couldn’t see what held their attention. There seemed to be nothing out there except the usual trees and grass.
The light streaming in through the windows was the buttery color of summer, a cheerful illusion created by powerful lamps positioned high above the campus, just beneath the protective red dome that hid the school from the view of camera-equipped satellites and passing aircraft. From the outside looking down, Red Cloak Island was designed to look like a towering volcano thrusting up from a turbulent sea; from the inside looking up it was a marvel of engineering and a safe haven in which to train future defenders of the weak and protectors of the innocent. Red Cloak was the world’s first – and so far only – school for superheroes.
Drawn by the tangy smells of tomato sauce and cheese, Hunter turned his attention to the food service counter. He was eager for pizza, but when he got close enough to see what others were putting on their trays he felt a pang of disappointment. Lasagna. Same basic ingredients, totally different dish, nowhere near as appetizing.
No, thank you, he thought.
Stepping out of line, Hunter made his way toward the table where his friends sat. They were no longer staring out the windows. Kevin McFarland, one of the school’s newest students and the one Hunter had given the nickname Captain Kissy-Face, was now the center of everyone’s attention. Half a dozen kids were huddled excitedly on either side of him, gently shoving one another in an effort to get a better look at something Kevin held in his hands. Some new invention he had built with his father, Hunter had no doubt. Kevin’s dad was a brilliant scientist, one of the group who had designed and built Red Cloak Island. Kevin was a chip off the old block – his own intelligence and creativity had earned him a place as the school’s only student with no biological super-power.
Hunter couldn’t quite see what was in Kevin’s hands. His view was blocked by Peter Zip and Todd Raven, whom Hunter had nicknamed Speedy Pete and Fly Boy, respectively. Hunter had given all of his friends nicknames, based partly on their special abilities and partly on his own slightly warped sense of humor; it was kind of his thing. Sidney Raine was Cloud Queen and Paige Bender was McStretchy and Xavier Tempest was The Amazing Airbag. He had even given himself a nickname: Invisible Max.
He felt like he might as well have been invisible right then. None of his friends looked up as he approached. It was like he wasn’t even there.
It was with that thought that the trouble started.
Hunter considered himself the unofficial center of their group. He knew he wasn’t the smartest among them, although he was very intelligent. He wasn’t the strongest or the fastest. But he was the most unafraid, the first to volunteer and the one with the most-developed sense of justice. He was quick with a joke and even quicker to come to the aid of a friend. He liked to make people laugh, liked to solve problems and to help people.
He didn’t like to be ignored.
The use of superpowers was not prohibited outside of classrooms. On the contrary, it was encouraged in most situations. How else could strengths be tested, skills be practiced, weaknesses discovered and addressed?
So if he was being treated like an invisible man, Hunter decided, then an invisible man he would be.
Hunter took a long, slow breath, in through his nose. He held it half a second, then exhaled equally slowly, out through his mouth. He relaxed his muscles, calmed his thoughts and focused his eyes on a spot on the far wall. He breathed in again, breathed out again, slow and calm, and then took a mental step backward, out across the edge of reality.
That was the only way he could describe it when people asked how it felt to become invisible: physically he stayed in place but in the center of his mind he moved just slightly back, just slightly away from everything and everyone else. When he looked around, he could still see the tables and chairs and his friends and fellow students, but they appeared somewhat dim. It was like wearing gray sunglasses. The artificial sunlight streaming in the windows seemed far less bright, the colors of people’s clothing appeared muted and washed-out. When he looked down he could still see a dim gray version of himself, but he knew that no one else in the cafeteria would be able to see him at all. In fact only one person at the school – one person in the world, as far as Hunter knew – could see him when he was in this state.
The difference was not only in his vision. The chatter and laughter around him now sounded thinner to his hears, softer, as if every noise was filtered through an old radio several rooms away. And the cheesy fragrance that had teased him earlier was now flat and unappetizing, smelling less like the pizza he had hoped for and more like the lasagna he hoped to avoid.
Hunter walked slowly to the table where his friends sat. He breathed shallowly and moved carefully. His power was effective because most people relied heavily on their sight. Seeing, for most people, was believing. But he was still solid, so if he bumped into someone he would be discovered. His voice and footsteps, even his breathing at such close quarters, could be heard. If he wore too much deodorant or sweated too much or ate the wrong foods, his scent would give him away.
On the plus side, so far nobody had ever tried to taste him. So, out of five senses, he was vulnerable to only three. Mathematically, not very good odds. But that was why he was at Red Cloak, to learn to make the most of his strengths, and learn to work around his weaknesses. And he was a great student.
Hunter made it to the table undetected. Everyone was looking out the windows again, laughing. He followed their gaze and at first saw nothing unusual. Then he noticed the milk. A small bottle of chocolate milk, it looked like. Probably from someone’s lunch, but instead of being inside on someone’s tray it was hovering just outside the windows, a few feet above the ground, aglow with a soft red light.
“Dump it,” Peter Zip said.
“No, don’t!” Paige cried. “I was going to drink that.”
Peter took the unopened milk from his own tray and handed it to Paige. It was strawberry instead of chocolate, but Paige was flexible, literally and figuratively.
“Okay,” she said. “Dump it.”
Hunter could finally see what Kevin was holding. In his left hand was a small device that looked like a red plastic smart phone. Kevin swiped his fingers around the surface of the gadget’s small screen. Outside the window, the milk carton twisted upside down in the air, mimicking the movement of his finger, and its contents flowed down into the grass.
“Cool,” said Peter Zip.
“Wasteful,” said Sidney Raine.
“Yeah, wasteful,” Paige agreed. She twisted the cap off the strawberry milk Peter had handed over and took a sip. Licking her lips, she added, “but still cool.”
Kevin slid two fingers over the touch screen in a twisty pattern, and the red glow around the bottle brightened slightly. Then the bottle itself vanished. A dim red bottle-shaped afterglow hung in the air for a second or two and then it, too, disappeared. At the same time, several inches above the table, the air shimmered and flashed red as the bottle reappeared. Apparently Kevin’s new invention was capable of both levitation and teleportation.
“Do something else,” Peter Zip said as Kevin tapped the screen, releasing the bottle to clatter to the table.
“Pick something,” Kevin said.
Peter picked up a dish of apple slices from Paige’s tray and said, “Try these.”
“No sweat.” Kevin slid his fingers over the touch screen and a basketball-sized sphere of bluish light formed in the space around the dish of fruit. As he slid his fingers together in a pinching motion, the blue sphere tightened and morphed, conforming to the outline of the dessert and turning from blue to red as the machine locked on target. The dish began to rise slowly above the surface of the table as Peter withdrew his hand.
“Why don’t you guys play with someone else’s dinner?” Paige asked.
Ignoring her, Peter said, “Smooshing apples into applesauce … there’s an app for that.”
Everyone laughed, except Hunter, who was trying to remain unseen, and Paige, who was clearly getting a little annoyed.
Paige put her right hand up in front of Peter’s face. She stretched it, her fingers becoming longer and thicker as her palm widened, and when she made a fist it looked as big and heavy as a sledge hammer. “Smoosh my food,” she said, “and I will smoosh your butt. Seriously.”
Kevin giggled, until Paige shot him a look that told him she meant business. “Sorry,” he said. Then he tapped his touch-screen again and the red glow faded from the dish of apple slices.
But the fruit still hung suspended in the air.
“Set them down,” Paige said.
“I did,” Kevin replied. “I mean, I’m trying.” He tapped and swiped at the little red device, but the fruit still hovered in place.
Exasperated, Paige reached for the dish with her left hand but it moved back as her hand approached.
“Not funny, Kevin.” Paige’s voice was low and even but it was clear she was getting more irritated by the moment. Her right hand was still a giant fist.
“It’s not me, I swear,” Kevin said. He turned the device over and popped the back off of it, removed the battery and set it on the table. “See? It’s completely shut down. That dish should be on the table.”
As if on cue, the dish dropped with a crash, bouncing upside down and landing in Paige’s half-eaten lasagna with a splat! Sauce and cheese sprayed in all directions. But it was only the dish that fell. Three fresh apple slices remained in the air, held up by nothing.
At least, nothing anyone could see. Trying not to laugh, Hunter held two slices in one hand and one in the other. As his friends watched, amazed and confused, he tossed one piece of apple into the air, caught it and tossed another. Among his many other talents, Invisible Max was a decent juggler.
Peter and Kevin laughed, and that was all the encouragement Hunter needed. Paige reached for her fruit again and Hunter pulled back, managing to avoid her elongated arms repeatedly while still keeping a smooth rhythm. The apples went up, down and around, the boys laughed, people from other tables were watching and then …
Then it stopped being funny. Frustrated, Paige dropped her hands and sat back in her seat, then lashed out with her foot. She stretched her leg several feet longer than usual and swiped it roughly in the direction of where she though Hunter’s invisible buttocks were. He tried to jump out of the way but her sneaker slammed into the side of his knee and he lost his balance. As he fell, his focus slipped and he became visible again, the colors and sounds rushing in on him and increasing his disorientation so he barely noticed when his hand smashed straight into Sidney Raine’s face as she tried to break his fall.
Now nobody was laughing. Peter was backing away from the table, trying to look uninvolved. Kevin slipped his invention into one pocket and the battery into another. Paige drew her leg back from under the table, shrinking it to its normal length, unclenching her fist and also shrinking that back to normal size. Hunter climbed to his feet, rubbing the sore spot on his knee where Paige had kicked him.
Sidney Raine was choking.
Hunter’s flailing hand had caught Sidney in the face as he fell, and the slice of apple clutched in his hand had gone straight into her mouth and become lodged in her throat. At first no one realized; they were all busy trying to look innocent for the moment when the teachers emerged from the staff lounge, drawn by the commotion.
Then suddenly there was a lot more than simple commotion. Sidney’s hands went to her throat, her cheeks reddened and her eyes widened as she tried to draw a breath. Hunter saw her face, understood what must be happening, and tried to spin her around so he could apply the Heimlich maneuver. Panicked, Sidney pushed him away.
“Help her, you idiot,” Paige shouted.
“I’m trying,” Hunter said. He managed to catch hold of Sidney’s shoulders but she twisted away from him again. “Stand still,” Hunter told her.
Then the clouds rolled in – inside the cafeteria. The temperature and humidity in the room went up dramatically and the air filled with a fine mist. A moment later the wind began, blowing outward in gusty circles from where Sidney stood.
The teachers spilled in from the staff lounge, quickly assessed the situation, and guided the youngest students out through the rear exits. Some of the older students started toward the center of the room but were pushed backward as the wind built into hurricane force. Tables slid toward the walls, chairs rose and spun, dishes and food flew.
Hunter finally managed to wrap his arms around Sidney from behind, locking his hands together over her sternum. Before he could do more, however, he found himself caught with her in the center of a vortex, spinning wildly and rising slowly off the floor. It was all he could do to hold on.
Someone created a force-field, blocking the rear third of the room from the worst of the growing storm. The sixth graders were left exposed in the center of the cafeteria, trying to find cover. Paige stretched one arm around Peter Zip and the other around Todd Raven. Kevin clung to Paige’s back, and together the four of them tried to fight their way toward Hunter and Sidney, but the gale was far too strong.
Hunter saw these things in dizzying glimpses as he tried again and again to apply the Heimlich maneuver. With a final burst of strength he managed to pull his entwined hands up into Sidney’s stomach, and then three things happened all at once.
One: The apple slice dislodged from Sidney’s throat and flew out of her mouth so that she could finally suck in a deep gulp of life-giving air.
Two: The atmosphere in the room grew thicker, warmer, and then flashed horribly bright as lightning crackled across the ceiling and down into the center of the metal warming pans where the remainder of the unserved lasagna exploded in a thunderclap of gooey cheese and tangy red sauce.
Three: The doorway to the staff lounge was blocked by the hulking figure of Principal Wayne, who managed only a step or two into the room before a metal table flung by the maelstrom hit him directly in the face.
Then the wind died down, Sidney and Hunter settled to the floor, and everything got quiet.
The Red Cloak School cafeteria was a riot of noise and activity when Hunter Maximus strolled in. Evening mealtime had started ten minutes ago and nearly all of the school’s one hundred and seventeen students had already gotten their food and found seats. There were no assigned tables but they mostly clustered by grade level: second- and third-graders up front near the door to the staff lounge, tenth-graders congregated at the rear tables. Near the middle of the room were Hunter’s peers, the sixth-grade superheroes.
Hunter waved but no one waved back. None of his classmates were looking in his direction; they hadn’t yet noticed he was there. They all seemed to be looking at something outside the cafeteria’s tall narrow windows. Hunter craned his neck but couldn’t see what held their attention. There seemed to be nothing out there except the usual trees and grass.
The light streaming in through the windows was the buttery color of summer, a cheerful illusion created by powerful lamps positioned high above the campus, just beneath the protective red dome that hid the school from the view of camera-equipped satellites and passing aircraft. From the outside looking down, Red Cloak Island was designed to look like a towering volcano thrusting up from a turbulent sea; from the inside looking up it was a marvel of engineering and a safe haven in which to train future defenders of the weak and protectors of the innocent. Red Cloak was the world’s first – and so far only – school for superheroes.
Drawn by the tangy smells of tomato sauce and cheese, Hunter turned his attention to the food service counter. He was eager for pizza, but when he got close enough to see what others were putting on their trays he felt a pang of disappointment. Lasagna. Same basic ingredients, totally different dish, nowhere near as appetizing.
No, thank you, he thought.
Stepping out of line, Hunter made his way toward the table where his friends sat. They were no longer staring out the windows. Kevin McFarland, one of the school’s newest students and the one Hunter had given the nickname Captain Kissy-Face, was now the center of everyone’s attention. Half a dozen kids were huddled excitedly on either side of him, gently shoving one another in an effort to get a better look at something Kevin held in his hands. Some new invention he had built with his father, Hunter had no doubt. Kevin’s dad was a brilliant scientist, one of the group who had designed and built Red Cloak Island. Kevin was a chip off the old block – his own intelligence and creativity had earned him a place as the school’s only student with no biological super-power.
Hunter couldn’t quite see what was in Kevin’s hands. His view was blocked by Peter Zip and Todd Raven, whom Hunter had nicknamed Speedy Pete and Fly Boy, respectively. Hunter had given all of his friends nicknames, based partly on their special abilities and partly on his own slightly warped sense of humor; it was kind of his thing. Sidney Raine was Cloud Queen and Paige Bender was McStretchy and Xavier Tempest was The Amazing Airbag. He had even given himself a nickname: Invisible Max.
He felt like he might as well have been invisible right then. None of his friends looked up as he approached. It was like he wasn’t even there.
It was with that thought that the trouble started.
Hunter considered himself the unofficial center of their group. He knew he wasn’t the smartest among them, although he was very intelligent. He wasn’t the strongest or the fastest. But he was the most unafraid, the first to volunteer and the one with the most-developed sense of justice. He was quick with a joke and even quicker to come to the aid of a friend. He liked to make people laugh, liked to solve problems and to help people.
He didn’t like to be ignored.
The use of superpowers was not prohibited outside of classrooms. On the contrary, it was encouraged in most situations. How else could strengths be tested, skills be practiced, weaknesses discovered and addressed?
So if he was being treated like an invisible man, Hunter decided, then an invisible man he would be.
Hunter took a long, slow breath, in through his nose. He held it half a second, then exhaled equally slowly, out through his mouth. He relaxed his muscles, calmed his thoughts and focused his eyes on a spot on the far wall. He breathed in again, breathed out again, slow and calm, and then took a mental step backward, out across the edge of reality.
That was the only way he could describe it when people asked how it felt to become invisible: physically he stayed in place but in the center of his mind he moved just slightly back, just slightly away from everything and everyone else. When he looked around, he could still see the tables and chairs and his friends and fellow students, but they appeared somewhat dim. It was like wearing gray sunglasses. The artificial sunlight streaming in the windows seemed far less bright, the colors of people’s clothing appeared muted and washed-out. When he looked down he could still see a dim gray version of himself, but he knew that no one else in the cafeteria would be able to see him at all. In fact only one person at the school – one person in the world, as far as Hunter knew – could see him when he was in this state.
The difference was not only in his vision. The chatter and laughter around him now sounded thinner to his hears, softer, as if every noise was filtered through an old radio several rooms away. And the cheesy fragrance that had teased him earlier was now flat and unappetizing, smelling less like the pizza he had hoped for and more like the lasagna he hoped to avoid.
Hunter walked slowly to the table where his friends sat. He breathed shallowly and moved carefully. His power was effective because most people relied heavily on their sight. Seeing, for most people, was believing. But he was still solid, so if he bumped into someone he would be discovered. His voice and footsteps, even his breathing at such close quarters, could be heard. If he wore too much deodorant or sweated too much or ate the wrong foods, his scent would give him away.
On the plus side, so far nobody had ever tried to taste him. So, out of five senses, he was vulnerable to only three. Mathematically, not very good odds. But that was why he was at Red Cloak, to learn to make the most of his strengths, and learn to work around his weaknesses. And he was a great student.
Hunter made it to the table undetected. Everyone was looking out the windows again, laughing. He followed their gaze and at first saw nothing unusual. Then he noticed the milk. A small bottle of chocolate milk, it looked like. Probably from someone’s lunch, but instead of being inside on someone’s tray it was hovering just outside the windows, a few feet above the ground, aglow with a soft red light.
“Dump it,” Peter Zip said.
“No, don’t!” Paige cried. “I was going to drink that.”
Peter took the unopened milk from his own tray and handed it to Paige. It was strawberry instead of chocolate, but Paige was flexible, literally and figuratively.
“Okay,” she said. “Dump it.”
Hunter could finally see what Kevin was holding. In his left hand was a small device that looked like a red plastic smart phone. Kevin swiped his fingers around the surface of the gadget’s small screen. Outside the window, the milk carton twisted upside down in the air, mimicking the movement of his finger, and its contents flowed down into the grass.
“Cool,” said Peter Zip.
“Wasteful,” said Sidney Raine.
“Yeah, wasteful,” Paige agreed. She twisted the cap off the strawberry milk Peter had handed over and took a sip. Licking her lips, she added, “but still cool.”
Kevin slid two fingers over the touch screen in a twisty pattern, and the red glow around the bottle brightened slightly. Then the bottle itself vanished. A dim red bottle-shaped afterglow hung in the air for a second or two and then it, too, disappeared. At the same time, several inches above the table, the air shimmered and flashed red as the bottle reappeared. Apparently Kevin’s new invention was capable of both levitation and teleportation.
“Do something else,” Peter Zip said as Kevin tapped the screen, releasing the bottle to clatter to the table.
“Pick something,” Kevin said.
Peter picked up a dish of apple slices from Paige’s tray and said, “Try these.”
“No sweat.” Kevin slid his fingers over the touch screen and a basketball-sized sphere of bluish light formed in the space around the dish of fruit. As he slid his fingers together in a pinching motion, the blue sphere tightened and morphed, conforming to the outline of the dessert and turning from blue to red as the machine locked on target. The dish began to rise slowly above the surface of the table as Peter withdrew his hand.
“Why don’t you guys play with someone else’s dinner?” Paige asked.
Ignoring her, Peter said, “Smooshing apples into applesauce … there’s an app for that.”
Everyone laughed, except Hunter, who was trying to remain unseen, and Paige, who was clearly getting a little annoyed.
Paige put her right hand up in front of Peter’s face. She stretched it, her fingers becoming longer and thicker as her palm widened, and when she made a fist it looked as big and heavy as a sledge hammer. “Smoosh my food,” she said, “and I will smoosh your butt. Seriously.”
Kevin giggled, until Paige shot him a look that told him she meant business. “Sorry,” he said. Then he tapped his touch-screen again and the red glow faded from the dish of apple slices.
But the fruit still hung suspended in the air.
“Set them down,” Paige said.
“I did,” Kevin replied. “I mean, I’m trying.” He tapped and swiped at the little red device, but the fruit still hovered in place.
Exasperated, Paige reached for the dish with her left hand but it moved back as her hand approached.
“Not funny, Kevin.” Paige’s voice was low and even but it was clear she was getting more irritated by the moment. Her right hand was still a giant fist.
“It’s not me, I swear,” Kevin said. He turned the device over and popped the back off of it, removed the battery and set it on the table. “See? It’s completely shut down. That dish should be on the table.”
As if on cue, the dish dropped with a crash, bouncing upside down and landing in Paige’s half-eaten lasagna with a splat! Sauce and cheese sprayed in all directions. But it was only the dish that fell. Three fresh apple slices remained in the air, held up by nothing.
At least, nothing anyone could see. Trying not to laugh, Hunter held two slices in one hand and one in the other. As his friends watched, amazed and confused, he tossed one piece of apple into the air, caught it and tossed another. Among his many other talents, Invisible Max was a decent juggler.
Peter and Kevin laughed, and that was all the encouragement Hunter needed. Paige reached for her fruit again and Hunter pulled back, managing to avoid her elongated arms repeatedly while still keeping a smooth rhythm. The apples went up, down and around, the boys laughed, people from other tables were watching and then …
Then it stopped being funny. Frustrated, Paige dropped her hands and sat back in her seat, then lashed out with her foot. She stretched her leg several feet longer than usual and swiped it roughly in the direction of where she though Hunter’s invisible buttocks were. He tried to jump out of the way but her sneaker slammed into the side of his knee and he lost his balance. As he fell, his focus slipped and he became visible again, the colors and sounds rushing in on him and increasing his disorientation so he barely noticed when his hand smashed straight into Sidney Raine’s face as she tried to break his fall.
Now nobody was laughing. Peter was backing away from the table, trying to look uninvolved. Kevin slipped his invention into one pocket and the battery into another. Paige drew her leg back from under the table, shrinking it to its normal length, unclenching her fist and also shrinking that back to normal size. Hunter climbed to his feet, rubbing the sore spot on his knee where Paige had kicked him.
Sidney Raine was choking.
Hunter’s flailing hand had caught Sidney in the face as he fell, and the slice of apple clutched in his hand had gone straight into her mouth and become lodged in her throat. At first no one realized; they were all busy trying to look innocent for the moment when the teachers emerged from the staff lounge, drawn by the commotion.
Then suddenly there was a lot more than simple commotion. Sidney’s hands went to her throat, her cheeks reddened and her eyes widened as she tried to draw a breath. Hunter saw her face, understood what must be happening, and tried to spin her around so he could apply the Heimlich maneuver. Panicked, Sidney pushed him away.
“Help her, you idiot,” Paige shouted.
“I’m trying,” Hunter said. He managed to catch hold of Sidney’s shoulders but she twisted away from him again. “Stand still,” Hunter told her.
Then the clouds rolled in – inside the cafeteria. The temperature and humidity in the room went up dramatically and the air filled with a fine mist. A moment later the wind began, blowing outward in gusty circles from where Sidney stood.
The teachers spilled in from the staff lounge, quickly assessed the situation, and guided the youngest students out through the rear exits. Some of the older students started toward the center of the room but were pushed backward as the wind built into hurricane force. Tables slid toward the walls, chairs rose and spun, dishes and food flew.
Hunter finally managed to wrap his arms around Sidney from behind, locking his hands together over her sternum. Before he could do more, however, he found himself caught with her in the center of a vortex, spinning wildly and rising slowly off the floor. It was all he could do to hold on.
Someone created a force-field, blocking the rear third of the room from the worst of the growing storm. The sixth graders were left exposed in the center of the cafeteria, trying to find cover. Paige stretched one arm around Peter Zip and the other around Todd Raven. Kevin clung to Paige’s back, and together the four of them tried to fight their way toward Hunter and Sidney, but the gale was far too strong.
Hunter saw these things in dizzying glimpses as he tried again and again to apply the Heimlich maneuver. With a final burst of strength he managed to pull his entwined hands up into Sidney’s stomach, and then three things happened all at once.
One: The apple slice dislodged from Sidney’s throat and flew out of her mouth so that she could finally suck in a deep gulp of life-giving air.
Two: The atmosphere in the room grew thicker, warmer, and then flashed horribly bright as lightning crackled across the ceiling and down into the center of the metal warming pans where the remainder of the unserved lasagna exploded in a thunderclap of gooey cheese and tangy red sauce.
Three: The doorway to the staff lounge was blocked by the hulking figure of Principal Wayne, who managed only a step or two into the room before a metal table flung by the maelstrom hit him directly in the face.
Then the wind died down, Sidney and Hunter settled to the floor, and everything got quiet.
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