by Katherine Grace Bond

The glow-in-the-dark masks were Gabriel’s idea, but Mariana liked to say they were hers. Mariana liked most ideas to be hers.

Mariana and her friends had been complaining forever about Gabriel running around in a cape and jumping off furniture while they were trying to polish their nails.

"You’re just copying the Flying Apostoulous," Mariana would say.

But when Gabe’s little brother, Kostos, did it, they thought it was cute. And Kostos was much worse, because he wore only a cape and a pair of red underpants.

So what if Gabe was copying the Flying Apostoulous? They were everyone’s favorite superheroes: Zephyr, Star, Thunderbolt and Storm Cloud. The comic heroes were always saving people and defending the world from evil Gronks.

Besides, when Gabe told Mariana his idea to create a play based on the characters, she thought it was a perfect idea. And when Gabe and Mariana went to their older brother, Stephen, with the idea, he liked it, too.

"Gabe," he said, "you’ve come to the right place."

Stephen planned to move to Hollywood someday, and he promised to buy everyone in the family a cool car.

"I don’t want a car," Mariana told him, "I want a horse ranch."

"Well, maybe," Stephen said. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On if you’re still this annoying."

"I am not annoying!"

Stephen pointed to an imaginary reader board. "Survey says—"

"Hey!" Gabe interrupted. "Can we please work on my play?"

"Our play," Mariana corrected. "Yes. Let’s get started. I know exactly what to do."

Acting Up

For the little kids in town, waiting for "The Flying Apostoulous" was like waiting for Christmas. The older cast members didn’t tell their younger sibs that the superheroes would only be the Constantine kids wearing costumes.

Building the sets was hard, but Gabe had his own carpenter’s bench with real tools. Mariana sat in a lawn chair offering advice.

"Redo that left corner, Gabe. It’s crooked."

Papa helped with the harnesses. "It’s got to be safe," he said.

Stephen sewed the costumes. "Trust me, Gabe," he bragged. "I know fabric."

Kostos whacked the paint cans with sticks.

"Kostos," Gabe said. "I need the blue."

"No," Kostos said. "It’s my dwum."

"Well, you have a bunch of drums. I only need the blue."

"No," Kostos protested. "Mine." He draped his small body over the cans. "I’m a wock stah."

"Kostos, you are not a rock star." Gabe reached under his brother and pulled on the blue can."

"Noooooooo!" Kostos yowled.

Gabe succeeded in wrenching the can loose, knocking Kostos to the ground with a thump.

"Oweeeeeee!" he howled. "Gabwiel huwt me!"

Mariana swooped in and gathered Kostos in her arms.

"Gabriel Alexander!" she scolded. "Look what you did."

Kostos wrapped his arms around his sister’s neck, sniffling and hiccuping.

"He’s not hurt," Gabe grumbled. "Besides, it’s his own fault."

"Poor Kostos," Mariana crooned. "You want Sissy to get you a Popsicle?"

"No! Fish sticks! I want fish sticks!" Kostos insisted as she carried him into the house.

And when the set was finally completed, things didn’t go much better during rehearsal.

"No, no!" Stephen said. "Say it in a deeper voice."

"But that’s not how Thunderbolt talks," Gabriel said.

"How would you know how Thunderbolt talks? Let’s run it again."

"We’ve run it 37 times already," Mariana complained. "I’m going in."

Gabe watched her go. He was sick of his cape, sick of being bossed around by Stephen and sick of the Flying Apostoulous. He wished he really could fly. He’d fly far away from Mariana and Stephen . . . and especially Kostos.

Star Power

The park filled up faster than Gabe had expected. By the time the sun went down, every seat was taken. He checked his harness one more time. From backstage he could see kids clutching Flying Apostoulous comics. His glow-in-the-dark mask was sweaty.

Papa opened the curtain. Gabe’s friend Charlie entered dressed as an evil Gronk.

"Ha-ha!" he yelled, "I’m going to eat this town!"

Gabe dropped down beside him. "Oh, no, you don’t!"

"It’s him!" cried a red-haired kid in the front row. "It’s Thunderbolt Apostoulou!"

Gabriel felt a surge of energy. He was sure his muscles had enlarged. He put his fists on his hips. He was not Constantine kid three—overlooked and unappreciated—he was Thunderbolt, hero of heroes.

He was wondering whether he should pause to give autographs, when he realized Mariana had not made her entrance. She was supposed to swing down as Zephyr Apostoulou and say, "Thunderbolt! More Gronks are coming in from the South!" But nothing happened.

Overhead he could hear whispering.

"It’s stuck!" Mariana squeaked.

"Well, just rip it!" Stephen hissed.

"I can’t rip it; I’ll fall, genius!"

"You won’t fall. Trust me."

"Why should I trust you?"

Below, Charlie looked blankly at Gabe. Gabe felt less heroic.

"You’re not hungry!" he stalled.

"I’m what?"

"Not hungry!" Gabe enunciated.

Stephen’s friends, Wally, Maurice and Yanik made their entrance.

"You can’t stop us, Zephyr Apostoulou!" Yanik bellowed.

But Zephyr was still stuck on the catwalk, high above. The Gronks began to back off the stage, but Kostos had spotted Yanik, his favorite of Stephen’s friends. With no one to stop him, he sailed down in his harness, squealing, "Yanik! Swing me! Swing me!"

Stage Fright

Mariana pulled her cape free with such force that she soared across the stage before she could say her line and whipped around Stephen on the other side. Her cord pulled Stephen back with her and set them spinning like a ceiling fan. The Gronks ran for cover. The audience leapt to its feet, screaming for more.

Kostos dangled from stage left, furious.

"I WANT TO SWING!" he demanded.

Sweat from Gabe’s mask dripped down his neck. The mask began to slide. Before he could catch it, it reached the end of his nose and slipped off.

"Hey!" yelled the red-haired kid. "That’s not the real Thunderbolt! It’s Gabriel Constantine!"

Gabe ran to the ladder and climbed to the catwalk, pulling his cape around him. He had never felt less brilliant.

Kostos, who had gathered momentum by swinging his feet, began banging them into the set wall, which crashed backwards. Little kids and Gronks scattered. Mariana, who was now free of Stephen, dropped to the ground and threw off her mask and cape.

"I am done with your stupid ideas, Gabe!" she yelled, stomping off stage.

"Stage right!" Stephen yelled. "The show must go on!"

From amid the chaos, Gabe heard a high voice.

"Hewwp!"

He followed the sound. Kostos was clinging to a light bar high above the stage. His cable was disconnected. Gabriel had no idea how he’d gotten up there.

"Call 9-1-1!" Stephen screamed. "Call the fire department!"

Mariana gathered coats and other soft things and spread them on the stage. Papa rushed forward. Gabriel started across the catwalk. He couldn’t look down.

Kostos was shrieking.

"God, help!" Gabe prayed.

He inched closer, but he was still so far.

"Easy, Kosty," he called, but Kostos couldn’t hear him.

Suddenly, Kostos lost his hold. He plummeted. Without thinking, Gabe jumped from the catwalk. He saw himself, as if he were someone else, swinging down, his cape flying behind him. He arced across the stage.

Whump! The weight of Kostos knocked all the wind out of Gabe. He sucked in his breath and found himself suspended above the ground. Kostos was wrapped around him, and would not let go.

I caught him! Gabe thought. How did I catch him?

"It’s him!" hollered one of the little kids. "Gabriel Constantine really is Thunderbolt Apostoulou!"

"He’s a hero!" another shouted.

Somehow, he and Kostos reached the ground safely. Stephen gave Gabe a hug in front of everyone. Even Mariana hugged him.

"You are a hero," she said.

But he didn’t feel like a hero. He just felt like a regular person. Maybe it was Thunderbolt Apostoulou who had rescued Kostos. Or maybe it was Gabriel—and God.

It seemed to Gabe that a hero wasn’t someone who flew through the air. A hero was somebody who forgot about himself for a few minutes and made someone else the most important.

Kostos lifted his head from Gabe’s shoulder and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Gabwiel," he said. "Can I have some fish sticks?"

	Q: What do you call a bag that’s asleep? A: A knapsack. Valerie L., 9, Wisconsin Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe