Takin' a break from YA...maybe someday I'll write a MG book...and maybe it'll go something like this.
My brother thinks he’s a superhero. What’s worse, my mom believes him. Of course, she may be biased. She thinks she’s one too.
Don’t get me wrong, they’re sane people and I love them very much. And there could be some truth to what they say. I mean, I’ve never been sick a day in my life. I’ve never had a scratch on me for longer than an hour. My mom claims it’s because she has a version of “Mommy Magic” like no other mom on the planet: She truly can heal an owie with a kiss. My brother’s claim on the supernatural is yet to be discovered. That’s right. He says he can feel the power surging through him; it just hasn’t funneled into its one true gift. It will, though, he assures me—several times a day.
And guess who he has chosen as his side kick to help him figure it all out? Yup. Me.
I’m just the younger brother, the baby, the cutie pie everyone loves to dote on without putting much stock in what I have to say.
And I have a lot to say, but no one to say it to.
But I’m brilliant. Smarter than my brother. Smarter than my parents.
Only no one knows it yet.
Nobody except the evil neighbor man, known as _________.