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- Herausgeber: Knights Of
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Serie: Stuntboy
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
The new book from the 2021 CILIP Carnegie Medal Winner Jason Reynolds A hilarious, hopeful, and action-packed middle grade novel about the greatest young superhero you've never heard of. Portico Reeves's superpower is making sure all the other superheroes - like his parents and two best friends - stay super. And safe. Super safe. And he does this all in secret. No one in his civilian llfe knows he's actually... Stuntboy!
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Contents
This isSTUNTBOY. This guy, right here.HIM.
You can’t tell just looking at him, but he’s the greatest superhero you’ve never ever heard of. And the reason you’ve never ever heard of him is because his superpower is making sure all the other heroes stay super. And safe. Supersafe. And he does it all on the hush. That’s right—it’s a secret. A secret secret. But now, because of my big mouth, youknow. So if you see him, don’t call him Stuntboy. At least not when his mum, or his dad, or his granny, or any other heroes are around. Because they only know him by his secret identity. By his household name. His human name. But I clearly can’t keep secrets (or secret secrets), so I might as well tell you that name, too, which happens to be the best human name that a superhero can have—
Portico Reeves.
3But in order to understand how he became the greatest superhero you’ve never ever heard of, you first have to know where it all started—
in a castle.4
THEBIGGEST HOUSE Portico Reeves lives in the biggest house on the block. The biggest house in the whole wide neighborhood. Maybe even the biggest house in the whole wide city.
5IN THE WHOLE WIDE EVERYWHERE Don’t know if you would consider it a castle or nothin’ fancy like that, but to Portico, it sure seems like one. A giant castle of rectangles made from the glassiest glass and the brickiest bricks on Earth. 6
Okay, so some people call where Portico Reeves lives an apartment building—Skylight Gardens. And that’s fine, too. No matter what it’s called, Portico feels lucky to live there. And why wouldn’t he? Living in an apartment building is the best. It’s like living in a television where behind every door is a new TV show.
7And Portico knows all the characters.
Like Mr. Mister, who stands outside apartment 1B all day long tying and retying and re-retying and re-re-retying his shoes, tighter and tighter each time. He does this because he’s scared he’ll leave his feet somewhere, and as long as he has on shoes, he knows he’s still … feeted (which is way better than being de-feeted)!
Or Frisbee Foster in apartment 3G, who got her nickname from being thrown back and forth by her big sisters when she was a baby. 8
Or even the kooky characters in Portico’s apartment, like his grandma Gran Gran, who was so old, her hair had changed colors from black to gray to white to … purple!
Oh, and let’s not forget about the smarty, arty, purry, furry family cat who’s called
A New Name Every Day.9
But enough about them. Portico’s granny and cat are cool—especially the cat—but the best thing climbing walls and jumping off counters in apartment 4D is Portico himself.
Only problem is, he also has a terrible case of …
What?
You’ve never heard of the frets?
You’re kidding, right?
The un-sit-stillables? The worry wiggles? The bowling ball belly bottoms? The jumpy grumpies? (Or the grumpy jumpies, depending on who you ask.) The hairy scaries, or worse, the VERY hairy scaries?
No?
Maybe it’s because your mum probably calls it what Portico’s grandma calls it—”anxiety.” (That Xis tricky, ain’t it? Might cause some anxiety.
Try this: ang-ZY-uh-tee.)10
Just means there’s nervous in the brain that makes nervous in the body. That’s … THE FRETS!
And the only person who ever seems to be able to help Portico get unnervous and de-fret is the other best person in the building—the one and only, only and one …
drumroll, please …
Zola Brawner!
Zola lives one and a half doors down from Portico. They’re best friends. Like, best best. Two fingers on a two-finger hand. Known each other for, let me think … 163 days (163 days?!), and declared themselves best friends on day number one, which is all the time you really need to know if someone’s your best friend or not. 11
It all happened after the first day of school. Zola was new, just moved in to Skylight Gardens. She hopped off the bus, and guess who came chiming and sliming up like the stinkiest, weenaged snot-bot ever, who thinks he’s notthe stinkiest, weenaged snot-bot ever, just because he got an earring he swears he put in his ear all by himself and didn’t even cry—Herbert Singletary the Worst. (Yes, that’s his real name.)
When Herbert Singletary the Worst saw Zola, he couldn’t help himself. 12
13This is NOT what he was going to say.
But before he could get out whatever mean joke he was going to say, Portico came jumping off the bus. And once Herbert Singletary the Worst saw Portico, his face went from regular mean, to jokey-jaw, teasy-teeth, haha-head mean. The worst.
“Look who it is. Snortico Sneeze,” Herbert said instead. 14
15That one threw Portico for a loop. He’d never actually smelled the back of his ear. Toe jam, well, that’s a different story.
Herbert Singletary the Worst followed Portico and Zola into their apartment building and onto the elevator. “And what about your mum? She still cutting hair?”
“Yeah.” Portico looked down at his own feet. His brain started churning and the inside-mixup got going. His heart dropped to where his stomach was. And his stomach jumped up to his heart space, which meant his stomach started beating and his heart started growling. Oh no … here come …1617
18“Then why yours look like a chewed up pencil eraser?” Herbert kept mocking, slapping Portico on the back of the head.
He went on and on, boasting and roasting, all while trailing Portico and Zola down the hall. “With parents like that, who you gonna be when you grow up?” Herbert taunted. “Oh, I know. Probably… n o b o d y!”
Portico wanted to turn around and tie Herbert Singletary the Worst into the best knot ever. A triangle double-half hitch you-can’t-get-this-knot-out knot, like the one Mr. Mister showed him how to make for his trainers. But Portico tried fighting back once before, and … let’s just say it didn’t work out so well.
After an eon, Portico finally arrived at 4D, his apartment, and tapped on the door lightly. His grandma was always home.
“Gran Gran,” Portico called. His voice, breaky and shaky. “I’m home. Let me in, please.” But Gran Gran never came. Portico was pretty sure she was resting her eyes. She was so old and had seen so much—she used to be a nurse and looked at balloons and tubes and squigglies for a thousand years—her 19eyes alwaysneeded rest. Only problem was, whenever she was resting her eyes, her ears seemed to be resting too. And … her mouth seemed to snore. Or is that her nose? Weird.
Luckily—what with Herbert now whispering insults to Portico like sour secrets, and the frets turning Portico’s insides into a tower of terrible—Zola’s mum opened the door to their apartment, 4E. Phew!
“Hey, kids, how was the first day of school?” Mrs. Brawner asked.
“Fine,” said Zola.
“Most educational,” said Herbert Singletary the Worst, pretending to be Herbert Singletary the Angel, which was NOT a thing. “See y’all later.” Herbert grinned as he backed 20down the hall. Guess there were more mean shenanigans for him to shell out downstairs.
Portico didn’t say nothing.
“What’s that face, young man?” Mrs. Brawner asked. “It’s Portico, right?”
Portico nodded. Knocked on his door again.
“What’s wrong, Portico? Nobody there?” asked Mrs. Brawner.
THE HALF DOOR
Remember when I said Zola lived one and ahalfdoors down from Portico? Well, between Apartment 4D and Apartment 4E, there was another door.
But not a whole door like Portico’s and Zola’s. A halfdoor. A door that looked like it had been cut down the middle. Neither Portico or Zola knew why there was a door there or what was actually behind it. All Portico and Zola knew was that Herbert Singletary the Worst lived there. 22
Once inside, Zola tried to get Portico to calm down.
“You okay?” she asked. The living room was covered in lawn chairs, which would’ve been weird if her father wasn’t a lawn chair salesman. But he is. Zola calls them “yawn chairs,” because she thinks it’s funny and because they’re perfect for napping. “Portico, you okay?”
Portico couldn’t answer. Too much fretting going on.
Zola frowned, then unfrowned. 23
“I know what,” she said, sitting on one of the chairs. “Let’s meditate.”
“I don’t want no medicine,” Portico mumbled.
“It’s not … medicine,” Zola said, giving Portico bozo eyes. “Well, it sort of is, but not the drinky kind. My mother taught me.” Mrs. Brawner was a breathing teacher. As in she taught people how to breathe so they could remember they were still alive.
Portico sat on the lawn chair next to Zola’s.
“Okay, so, first make yourself a pretzel,” Zola said.
“You got pretzels?!” A snack might be perfect for de-fretting. Might put his belly back in its belly pocket.
“No, make yourselfa pretzel.” Zola crossed her legs.
Portico did the same.
“Now, close your eyes. Take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
Portico followed every single instruction. His mother would’ve been proud. 24
“You like TV shows?” Zola asked suddenly. Even though he had no clue why she was asking this in the middle of meditation’ing, it was the perfect question because Portico happened to love TV shows. I mean, doesn’t everyone? TV shows were the best things ever invented. Better than video games. Better than candy. Better than drawing (but drawing’s pretty cool). And definitely better than books.
25“I love TV shows!” he said. “They the best things ever invented. Better than video games. Better than candy. Better than drawing, but drawing’s pretty cool. And definitely better than—”
“Shhhhh! Close your eyes.”
“How you know my eyes open if your eyes ain’t open?” he asked.
“I can hear that they open.”
Wait, what? Was he blinking too loud?
Either way, he closed his eyes again. 2627
28Portico couldn’t think of anyone. I mean, his father came to mind, hanging off the back of the rubbish truck, slinging gross things into the metal mouth of his pet monster. He thought about his mum, too. Using those clippers like weapons. But how he could he pick between the two? He even thought about Gran Gran. I mean, she’d memorised every weird thing in the body and actuallysaved lives when she was a nurse. To Portico, they were all heroes … but not superheroes. Not high-sky-flying, stronger than bodybuilders, buildings, boulders, and bad guys, kind of superheroes. He couldn’t imagine himself as none of those.
“I don’t know,” he said, stumped. “Who would yoube?”
And without hesitation, Zola replied, “I’d be Mater—from 29
She took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “So, that’s me. You think of anybody, yet?”
“Oh, uh, wow … ummm …” Portico thought frantically (definitely not meditation’ing-ly). “I mean, I guess all I can really see me being is a … Super Space Warrior too.”
“Ain’t no Super Space Warrior Two.”
“No, I mean, me too. Like, I’m a Super Space Warrior, too. And plus, there’s two of them. They’re twins. Mater and Pater. I can be Pater.”
“We both can’t play Super Space Warriors, Portico,” Zola said. “Also, there are loads of superheroes to choose from.” 30
“Okay, okay. But maybe … maybe you can be a Super Space Warrior doing, like, all the talking and the acting stuff. And I can be a Super Space Warrior doing the fighting and flipping stuff.”
“You mean like … a … what you call the people who do the dangerous things?”
“A dummy?” “No.” “A boy?”
“Please. I can do dangerous stuff too. I’m just too smart to.”
“Right. So a dummy.”
“You not a dummy! It’s something else. A … a …” Zola opened her eyes. “A stuntman boy?”
Portico opened his eyes too.
“Yeah, a stuntman boy. That way youcan be the hero but don’t gotta get hurt.” 31
Portico had never thought about being a stuntman boy before, but now, after meditation’ing, he couldn’t see a reason to be anything else. “But that ain’t really a superhero.”
“It could be.
You could be …
STUNTBOY!”
32Portico thought about it for half a second.
“I like it. How ‘bout Stuntboy the Stunty McStuntster? Too much? You’re right. Just … Stuntboy. That’s me.”
“That’s you,” Zola confirmed. “So what’s your superpower, Stuntboy?”
“Keeping other superheroes safe, so theycan save the world!”
“Hmm. I like that. Kinda like you did with that Herbert kid—” Zola started, but Portico cut her off.
“The Worst.”
“Yeah! Like … like … he really wanted to pick on me, but then he saw you, and you basically ended up doing all my … stunts.”
“Wait, yo … you RIGHT!” Portico couldn’t believe it. He’d been Stuntboy before he even knew he was Stuntboy! Destiny, folks. That’s what you call this. Destiny. “Wow, that breathing thing with the pretzel, or whatever, is good,” Portico said. 33
“I told you. It’s all in the inhale-exhale. I think. My mum be telling people to breathe in from their feet all the way up to the tops of their heads.” Portico didn’t get it. And honestly, neither did Zola. So they laughed about how that was impossible because there’s “no noses on your toeses.”
And then they watched an episode of SuperSpaceWarriors.
Zola repeated all the words. Portico threw himself into walls.
And that’s how they became best friends on day number one.
Oh, and also how Stuntboy was born.
Homework isn’t dangerous, and doesn’t require stunts. Nice try.34
Stunts have amazing names. At least Stuntboy’s do. He learned how to name stuff from his grandma. When he was little, Gran Gran would show him a picture of the inside of a human body. Not like the real inside, but a drawing. Nurse stuff. And she’d explain each inside-thing by giving it a funnier name.
So when Portico started coming up with his special stunts, he gave them all even special-er names. 35
