Tom Fletcher Book Club: My Brother is a Superhero by David Solomons

Tom Fletcher Book Club: My Brother is a Superhero by David Solomons

Watch Tom’s Bedtime Story:

My Brother is a Superhero by David Solomons

Luke is a comic-mad eleven-year old who shares a treehouse with his geeky older brother, Zack. Luke’s only mistake is to go for a wee right at the wrong time. While he’s gone, an alien gives his undeserving, never-read-a-comic-in-his-life brother superpowers and then tells him to save the universe. Luke is massively annoyed about this, but when Zack is kidnapped by his arch-nemesis, Luke and his friends have only five days to find him and save the world…

Read Tom’s Review:

For people who like really good books!

This might just possibly, maybe, could be one of my favourite books ever. I was hooked from the opening line and didn’t want it to end. The best thing is, if you love this book there are more in the series to get stuck in to. It combines so many things that I love, space, superheroes, science fiction…it’s just awesome!

Favourite quote:
My brother is a superhero, and I could have been one too, except that I needed to go for a wee.

P.S. Try flicking the pages to see an asteroid heading for earth!

Read an Extract from My Brother is a Superhero:

1

THE (NOT) CHOSEN ONE

My brother is a superhero, and I could have been one too, except that I needed to go for a wee.

Of all the things I can’t stand about my big brother, being called a child is number forty-seven. Not that I have a list.

My name is Luke Parker, I’m eleven years old and I live in a mild-mannered part of London with my mum, dad and big brother, Zack. He wasn’t always a superhero, but with a name like Zack you’ve got to wonder if my parents had a hunch that one day he’d end up wearing a mask and cape and saving orphans from burning buildings. I mean, come on! It’s not a name, it’s a sound effect. It’s what you get in a comic when a superhero punches a supervillain. Pow! Blam! Zack!

It seems to me that in life you are faced with clear- cut moments when things could go one way or another. Vanilla or chocolate. Smooth or crunchy. Drop the water bomb on Dad’s head, or hold fire. It’s up to you which choice to make and sometimes all it takes to change the way your whole life turns out are four little words.

“I need a wee.”

It was the fateful evening. Zack and I had been in our tree house for about an hour and I was bursting. I was reading an old issue of Teen Titans by torchlight and Zack was doing his maths homework. He’s always been a bit of a swot. Before he became Star Lad, at school he was star boy.

“Then go,” he said, solving another quadratic equation with a flick of his pencil. “I’m not stopping you.”

The truth was I didn’t want to go down the rope ladder in the dark. It had been hard enough climbing up it in the first place. It’s not that I’m unfit or anything, but put it like this: you won’t ever see me on an Olympic podium. I suffer from hay fever and have funnyshaped feet that mean I have to wear these things in my shoes called “orthotics”. When Mum first told me I needed them I was excited. I thought they sounded like supersoldier-power armour, but when they finally arrived they turned out to be bendy foot-shaped supports and not a cybernetic exoskeleton suit. That was a disappointing Thursday.

I hung my head out of the tree-house door. “Maybe I could just wee from here?”

“Out! Get out of here, you disgusting child!”

Zack is only three years older than me, but when I’ve done something to annoy him he calls me a child. Of all the things I can’t stand about my big brother, being called a child is number forty-seven. Not that I have a list.

OK. I do have a list.

Even before he became a superhero the list was up to number sixty-three. Now it’s almost at a hundred. He is very irritating.

I climbed down the rope ladder and went into the house.

I did a wee.

When I returned to the tree house a few minutes later, Zack was sitting there silently in the dark. I knew something was up because he’d stopped doing his homework. I grabbed my torch and levelled the beam in his face. He didn’t even blink.

He ignored me and stared at his hands, turning them over and over. “I think I have superpowers.”

“Zack, are you all right?”

He nodded.

“Are you sure? You look … different.”

He nodded again, very slowly, like he was working out some complicated thought in his head and then said in a croaky voice, “I think … something amazing just happened to me. Luke, I’ve changed.”

Now this didn’t come as a great surprise. About six months before, Dad had taken me aside for what he called a man-to-man chat. We sat in his shed – I think that’s because it’s the most manly room we have – and Dad explained that from now on I might notice some changes in my big brother.

“Zack’s embarking on a great journey,” said Dad.

“Brilliant! When’s he leaving? Can I have his room?”

“Not that kind of journey,” said Dad with a weary sigh. “He’s going through something called puberty,” he went on. “His voice will be different, for instance.”

“Ooh, will he sound like a Dalek?”

“No, not like a Dalek.”

“Pity.”

“He will become hairier.”

“Ooh, like a werewolf?!”

“No, not like a werewolf.”

This puberty lark didn’t seem up to much. There was other stuff, to do with privacy and girls, but to be honest, after the let-down about the Dalek and the werewolf I stopped taking it in.

So, when Zack told me in the tree house that something had changed, I knew exactly what to say. I pursed my lips and gave a serious nod like I’d seen the doctor do when he told me I had glandular fever. “I’m afraid that you have caught puberty.”

He ignored me and stared at his hands, turning them over and over. “I think I have superpowers.”

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