Solomons My Cousin Is a Time Traveller

eBook
ISBN: 978-1-78800-586-9
Verlag: Nosy Crow Ltd
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 5, 304 Seiten

Reihe: My Brother is a Superhero

Luke's dad has bought a lot of gadgets recently and not one of them works as it's supposed to. Maybe it's because a machine-from-the-future is stalking Bromley, playing havoc with all the tech and trying to stop Star Lad going on a date. Could this be the Rise of the Machines? Luke knows what he must do - he just needs his fellow SCARF members to help, or it will be the end of everything... My Cousin is a Time-Traveller is the fifth instalment of Luke's laugh-out-loud adventures. From the author of My Brother Is a Superhero, winner of the Waterstones Children's Book Prize and the British Book Industry Awards Children's Book of the Year, and My Gym Teacher Is an Alien Overlord, winner of a Lollies Laugh Out Loud 2017 Book Award. Books don't come much funnier than these! Packed with heart and soul, this series is perfect for fans of David Baddiel and David Walliams. My Brother Is a Superhero My Gym Teacher is an Alien Overlord My Evil Twin is a Supervillain My Arch-Enemy is a Brain in a Jar My Cousin is a Time-Traveller

David Solomons' debut children's book, My Brother is a Superhero topped the Sunday Times children's bestseller charts and won The Waterstone's Children's Book Prize and British Book Awards Children's Book of the Year. It has been sold in 23 languages and spawned four further books in the series. The first book in his latest comedy adventure series, Spyglass, will be published in 2026. He lives in Dorset with his two children, Luke and Lara.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Solomons, David

Leseproben

“Are they transferable?”

That was the first question Serge asked me at school the next morning when I told him about Zack’s terrible decision.

I shook my head sadly. It had been my question too when Zack informed me of his intention. If my brother didn’t want his powers, then I was happy to take them on. But when I’d said that last night he had shown only irritation, and then he’d stormed out of my bedroom. Though not before pausing in the doorway to drop another bombshell.

“Things are about to change,” he’d said.

“Well, duh,” I’d snapped.

“I’m not just talking about the superpowers,” he’d said. “Other stuff too. Big stuff.”

What could possibly be bigger than giving up being Star Lad?

“Listen to me,” Zack had said. “As much as you want it to, the world can’t stay the same forever.”

He was speaking in riddles. “Is this about another invasion? Is Earth about to fall off its axis? What did Zorbon tell you?”

For a moment I’d thought he was about to say more, but he stopped himself. His expression softened and he fixed me with a kindly smile.

“G’night, Luke.”

The door clicked as he closed it behind him.

I was no clearer about his puzzling words the following day, as Serge and I filed into the gym alongside the rest of our year group for a special assembly. We sat cross-legged on the floor while teachers patrolled the lines, watching beadily and calling for silence whenever it was broken.

“Is Zack certain that Zorbon can remove his powers?” Serge pondered.

“He bestowed them in the first place,” I said. In comics, superpowers were always “bestowed” not simply “given”.

“Oui, but it is not like receiving a gift of, for example…” Serge hummed as he contemplated the most fitting comparison. “A pineapple. You cannot simply say: please now remove my pineapple.”

Serge was right – Zack’s powers weren’t like a pineapple. They were as much a part of him now as his love for algebra and dislike of comics. Leaving aside the finer points of superpower removal, there was still time before Zorbon arrived at the weekend for me to do something. Between now and then I had to persuade Zack to change his mind.

“I’m calling an emergency S.C.A.R.F. meeting,” I whispered. S.C.A.R.F. was the Superhero Covert Alliance Reaction Force, an organisation set up by Serge and me to work alongside Star Lad and Dark Flutter. This might very well be its most important mission yet. “Today, after school, in the tree house. Zack will listen to all of us if we put on a united front.”

Serge glanced along the line of seated classmates. I followed his gaze to a girl with short dark hair and a lightly freckled face. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap and her bright, intelligent eyes peered straight ahead at the stage. She was Lara Lee – friend, neighbour and Dark Flutter.

“I am not sure how united we will be,” Serge said quietly.

I understood what he meant. During our latest adventure, on a fateful minibreak to Great Minds Leisure Park, we had encountered an evil brain-in-a-jar with incredible mind powers. There had been a lot of body-swap shenanigans, in the course of which Serge and Lara had briefly occupied one another’s bodies. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but they were boyfriend and girlfriend at the time. Their relationship hadn’t survived the switcheroo, and now things between them were awkward, to say the least.

“C’mon, Serge, pull yourself together. This is more important than all that lovey-dovey stuff, this is about something deep and meaningful.” I laid a hand on his shoulder and fixed him in the eye. “Superheroes.”

He offered me a faltering smile and then looked down at the floor with a sigh.

Our headteacher, Mr Hines, took to the stage and clapped for our attention. Lingering conversations dwindled into silence. Standing beside Mr Hines was a man I didn’t recognise. He had thick dark hair with a white streak down the middle of his head, as if he was wearing a badger. He was dressed in a stripy shirt and jeans and slung over one shoulder was a canvas bag with the words “Books Are My Bag” on the front. Even from where I was sitting near the back of the hall I could tell that he was sweating.

“Who’s this guy?” I asked Serge.

“You do not know?” He sounded surprised. “The posters have been up all over school for some time. Did you not receive the letter to take home to your parents? And the two subsequent reminder letters?”

Now that he mentioned it I vaguely remembered tucking a series of correspondence from the school office in my bag. I was fairly confident the letters were still in there, possibly next to a month-old banana.

“He is Arthur Veezat,” said Serge, lowering his voice so as not to attract the attention of a nearby teacher.

“Is he French then?”

“Hmm?” Serge gave me a strange look. “Non, I said that he is our author visit.”

Now I understood. The school occasionally drafted in children’s authors in an effort to inspire us with their stirring personal stories of how they came to write a book none of us had ever heard of. Mr Hines introduced him and I listened for about five minutes as the author jumped about the stage, gesticulating wildly and shouting out words like “plot”, “character” and “royalties”. But I was too busy thinking about Zack and our important S.C.A.R.F. business to take in much of what he was saying. After a while he calmed down and read a chapter from his book. I felt myself lulled to sleep as his monotonous voice drifted over the hall.

When the reading was finally over Serge turned to me and said, “Our adventures are far more interesting than his. Per’aps we should write them down also.”

He was forgetting one thing. “But then everyone who reads them would discover Star Lad and Dark Flutter’s true identities.” I still cared about that stuff, even if Zack was ready to throw it all away.

“We could change the names. Instead of Luke and Serge, we will be Lionel and Steve. And instead of Star Lad and Dark Flutter…” He frowned in silence. Superhero names were tricky, all the good ones having been taken. “I will get back to you on that.”

In fact, recording our adventures was something that had occurred to me some time ago. A lot had happened since Zorbon’s first visit to the tree house and I would hate to forget a single detail, so I had been writing down our missions in a series of superhero-themed notebooks that Serge had given me for my last birthday. I’d already covered our first adventure with the Nemesis asteroid, the invasion by alien gym teachers, Gordon the World-Eater, and my trip to a parallel Earth to confront my Evil Twin. One day I would be as ancient and forgetful as my dad, so it would be nice to have a record.

The author didn’t exactly finish his presentation with a bang. It sort of just fizzled out and then the teachers realised it was over and we clapped a bit and the assembly came to an end. As the classes filed out in their usual disorderly fashion, the author took a seat at a table piled high with his books. He uncapped a pen and watched the departing children with an expression of sad resignation. The hall emptied until there was just me and a handful of others, including Serge and Lara. We trickled over to his table, forming a short queue, and a minute and a half later I was at the front, face-to-face with Arthur Veezat, or whatever his name was.

His features creased into a question. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You look familiar. Maybe when I visited your school last year?”

I shook my head. “You’re the first author I’ve ever met.”

“That’s not true,” Lara interjected. “You’ve met my aunt Farah.”

“I thought she was a dentist.”

“She’s an author-dontist. She says there’s no money in books, so she fixes people’s teeth for cash and writes stories for fun.”

I could see a confused expression appear on Arthur’s face. Lara had that effect on people. But there was no point arguing with her. He plucked one of his books from the top of a pile, opened it and hovered his pen above the page.

“So what’s your name, young man?” he enquired.

“Luke,” I said.

He beamed up at me. “That’s my son’s name too.” He began to write it in the book. “To Luke,” he said as he scribbled.

Standing in front of a real author, even one as lame as Arthur, got me thinking about my own writing. Maybe Arthur could offer me some tips.

“I’m writing a book,” I said. “Any advice?”

“You mean apart from all that insightful writing advice I imparted during my fun-filled presentation?”

“Exactly.” I leaned in. “I want the good stuff. The under-the-counter advice. The secret to writing.”

“I don’t think there’s a secret,...