Aru Shah Is Not Spider-Man
Aru Shah had a gigantic lightning bolt, and she really wanted to use it.
“Please don’t, Shah,” begged her friend Aiden. “If you electrocute the targets with Vajra…we’ve blown this Pandava mission.”
“Puh-leeze,” said Aru, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. “I’m the daughter of the god of thunder and lightning. Electricity is practically my thing.”
“Yesterday you stuck a fork in the toaster,” pointed out Aiden.
“It was just for a second, and it was holding my breakfast prisoner.”
A gust of wind hit the back of Aru’s head, and she turned to see a huge eagle with sapphire-colored feathers swooping toward them. The bird dove to the ground and in a flash of blue light transformed into Brynne, her soul sister and the daughter of the god of the wind.
“No visuals on the targets,” Brynne said. “Also, Aiden’s right. I seriously don’t trust you around electricity.”
“You weren’t even part of this conversation!” said Aru.
“Still heard it.” Brynne tapped the side of her head. “I had eagle ears for a second, remember?”
Beside Aiden stood Mini, daughter of the god of the dead. She clutched Dee Dee, her Death Danda, and looked around anxiously.
“You could’ve electrocuted yourself with that fork!” scolded Mini. “And then you would’ve—”
“Died?” guessed Aiden, Aru, and Brynne at the same time.
Mini crossed her arms. “I was going to say that you would’ve suffered severe burns, cardiac arrest, possible coma…and yes, potentially, death.”
Brynne rolled her eyes. “Enough about toasters. We need a plan to rescue the targets, and quick.”
The three Pandavas and Aiden stood on the street, gazing up at the illuminated Ferris wheel that crowned downtown Atlanta. Beyond the wheel loomed the bright, jagged skyline. Cars honked and inched their way through rush-hour traffic on the street behind them, completely oblivious to the four kids holding glowing weapons.
Earlier, Hanuman, their monkey-faced war instructor, and Boo, their pigeon mentor, had told them that somewhere on the Ferris wheel were two people in need of rescuing. The Pandavas had no idea what the targets looked like, but they knew one of them was a clairvoyant.
Why would someone hide a clarinet? Aru had asked.
Boo had sighed. It’s not a clarinet.
Oh.
Turns out a clairvoyant was not a musical instrument, but someone who could see the future and prophesize. The Otherworld had been waiting for centuries for an important prophecy to be uttered. If the rumors were true, it would hold enough power to determine the victor in the devas’ war against the asuras, who were currently being led by the Sleeper. But prophecies were sensitive things, Boo had explained. They would only reveal themselves in the presence of certain beings—usually those whom the prophecy was about. Boo believed that in this case only the Pandavas or the Sleeper’s soldiers would be able to hear it. And each side’s success depended on making sure that the other side didn’t.
Aru eyed the lengthening late-winter shadows. So much had changed in the past year since they’d ventured into the Ocean of Milk. She was fourteen now. She had grown a couple inches, her hair now fell to her shoulders, and lately she could fit into her mom’s shoes…but she still preferred walking around barefoot. In the light of early evening, dogwood blossoms gleamed like stars caught on dark branches. Cherry trees lining the streets shed pink petals, and the damp pollen on the streets looked like flakes of gold.
“I tried flying up to spot the targets, but some of the booths are dark and shut tight,” said Brynne. “I just don’t understand why anyone who can see the future would choose to hide out on an amusement park ride.”
“Especially a stalled one, with no operator,” added Aiden.
“Maybe he or she wanted a better view?” suggested Mini.
“Who knows, but first we need to get the Ferris wheel moving so we can access the closed booths,” said Brynne. “If I blast it with wind—”
“The whole thing could topple over!” said Aru.
“And if we try to start it with Vajra, we could fry the clairvoyant!” said Brynne.
Mini bit her lip, looking from Aru to Brynne. “Maybe…there’s another way?”
Aiden nodded. “Bee can use her wind mace to—gently—get it moving. I’ll take the perimeter and—”
“We don’t have time for gently!” cut in Aru.
“How ’bout you and I climb the Ferris wheel, and I use Dee Dee to scan the booths?” offered Mini.
“Climb the Ferris wheel?!” echoed Aru. “Do I look like Spider-Man to you?”
“Well, you sometimes wear those pajamas…” said Mini.
Brynne snorted.
“What pajamas?” asked Aiden.
Abandon conversation! screamed Aru’s brain. Abandon conversation!
“Let’s get moving,” she said quickly.
Brynne grinned widely, then swung the wind mace over her head. Bright blue light burst from the weapon. A screech of metal tore through the air. Up ahead, the towering wheel slowly began to turn.
“Go!” said Brynne.
Aru ran toward the Ferris wheel—a nearly two-hundred-foot-tall contraption with rotating enclosed booths. Her nerves bubbled with tension as she dashed up the exit stairs and reached for the first inner rung. The metal bars were slick with recent rain and smelled of iron. Normally, there was no way she would agree to climb this thing, but her customized Pandava kicks came with enchanted suction cups on the bottom that promised she wouldn’t fall.
The Pandavas had been preparing for this all week, and they knew what was at stake. Not a single day had passed without Aru hearing about increased demon activity in the mortal world. But no one had caught sight of the person behind the chaos: the Sleeper. Her father. Aru wished she could only see him as the monster that he was. But certain memories kept messing with her head, and sometimes she didn’t picture the Sleeper as he was now, but as the dad he had been in the past. The man who had cradled her. If just for an hour.
Aru faltered, her hand slipping. A cool wind hit her face as her gaze fell to the ground more than a hundred feet below. From here, the lines of streetlights looked like faraway strings of stars and the groups of trees resembled clumps of mashed-up broccoli.
“You okay?” called Mini from the spoke below.
Steady, Shah, she told herself.
They’d trained for this.
She could do this.
“Nope. I’m Aru.” She smiled weakly and reached for the next rung.
Another cold gust lashed her hair into her eyes.
You’re climbing a Ferris wheel, thought Aru. You know who does that? SUPERHEROES. And that guy from The Notebook, but mostly superheroes.
“Superheroines,” she whispered to herself, and reached for another bar.
Quietly, Aru started singing. Her hands ached and her teeth were chattering. When she looked up, she realized she was eye level with towering skyscrapers.
“Are you singing?” asked Mini, who was getting closer.
Aru quickly shut up. “Nope.”
“Because it sounded like ‘Spider-Man, Spider-Man…does whatever a Spider-Man does,’ which I’m pretty sure aren’t the right lyrics.”