Just Like Click

By Sandy Grubb

Nick Townley has lived his entire life— all eleven years— at Black Butte Ranch, nestled in the foothills of the snow-capped Cascade Mountains. While his parents push him to study, practice sports, and make friends, Nick prefers to retreat into his superhero universe and create exciting Adventures of Click comics. When a string of robberies threatens Dad' s job, forcing them to move across the country, Nick' s world implodes. He loves his home, and what will he do about the $237,000 in cash under his bed that Great Gramp gave him before he died? Desperate to stop the move, Nick steps off his comic book pages and ventures into the night as Click, an undercover superhero. Catching thieves would be a lot easier if he had actual superpowers. When three new kids discover his identity and want to join him, Nick vows to stay undercover… until he realizes even a superhero needs friends. But can he ask them to put their lives in danger to save his home? What would Click do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fitzroy Books
• Release date: Apr 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9781646034406

Book preview

Praise for Just Like Click

In a summer filled with mysteries, comics, friendships and midnight rescue missions, Nick learns that sometimes a superhero has to save himself. Engaging debut!

—Kirby Larson, author of Newbery Honor Book, Hattie Big Sky, and the Dogs of World War II series

In this humorous and heart-warming story of a boy who wishes he were someone else, Sandy Grubb deftly captures the pangs and pitfalls of early adolescence exacerbated by the complications of a family in transition. Still grieving the loss and companionship of his great-grandfather, Nick struggles to fit in with the cool kids at Black Butte Ranch and live up to his dad’s desire for him to be the best athlete. If only he could be as colorful and powerful as the Click superhero comics he’s created! The author paces the tension well as we hang on every choice that Nick makes when he swoops in to save the lives of others even as his own life seeps slowly into a black hole. With a cast of endearing characters of all ages and a setting rich with beauty and danger, Sandy Grubb has crafted a story that middle-grade kids will relate to and remember.

—Kimberly Behre Kenna, author of Artemis Sparke and the Sound Seekers Brigade and Jett Jamison and the Secret Storm

It’s a bird! It’s a plane…it’s Click, the undercover superhero of Black Butte Ranch! Even though he can’t fly, Nick fights for truth and justice with the only superpowers he has—his friends and his heart.

—Jody J. Little, author of Mostly the Honest Truth and Worse Than Weird

With the perfect blend of comics and adventure, Nick shows it’s not tights or capes that make a superhero, but friends who believe in you.

—Sarvinder Naberhaus, award winning author of Blue Sky White Stars

Just Like Click

Sandy Grubb

Fitzroy Books

Copyright © 2024 Sandy Grubb. All rights reserved.

Published by Fitzroy Books

An imprint of

Regal House Publishing, LLC

Raleigh, NC 27605

All rights reserved

https://fitzroybooks.com

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN -13 (paperback): 9781646034390

ISBN -13 (epub): 9781646034406

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023934871

All efforts were made to determine the copyright holders and obtain their permissions in any circumstance where copyrighted material was used. The publisher apologizes if any errors were made during this process, or if any omissions occurred. If noted, please contact the publisher and all efforts will be made to incorporate permissions in future editions.

Cover images and design by © C. B. Royal

Interior illustrations by L.L. Tisdel

Regal House Publishing, LLC

https://regalhousepublishing.com

The following is a work of fiction created by the author. All names, individuals, characters, places, items, brands, events, etc. were either the product of the author or were used fictitiously. Any name, place, event, person, brand, or item, current or past, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Regal House Publishing.

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

For Jeff, Chris, Matthew, and Peter

Keep using your superpowers for good!

Quote

Do good to others and every man can be a Superman.

–Kal-El

Chapter One

Click: I’m a flea on an elephant.

Inspector: You’re a star in the universe.

Click: A drop in the ocean.

Inspector: A hero in the great cosmic battle to overcome evil.

Click: A burp in the history of the world.

Superheroes don’t exactly tell the whole truth. Superman hides behind Clark Kent’s thick black glasses. Batman wears a mask to protect Bruce Wayne. Who would ever suspect Peter Parker is Spider-Man? Then there’s me. I’m not a superhero, but I have my own secrets. And if I’m going to keep those secrets, I’d better get going before Mom gets home.

I quickly finish the final page in my latest Adventures of Click comic. All it needs is a dash of gold for lightning. Good job, Click. You saved the world just in time, as always. Alone in my room, I’m in control of who wins and loses. Out in the real world, not so much.

I close my tablet and run downstairs. Rounding the corner to the backdoor I screech to a stop. Mom! What’re you doing here? She’s standing inside, hanging up her coat.

I live here, remember? She winks. Anna’s dance class was canceled.

My little cousin, Anna, smirks from the couch. I live here too.

No, I don’t think so.

Two days a week, she says.

That’s different. I stop. I’ll never win an argument with miss-seven-year-old-know-it-all Anna.

Mom ties her apron. You look like you’re in a hurry.

I stumble over to the kitchen sink. Yeah, got thirsty. She’s never home early. What if I’d been gone? Without leaving a note? Reminder to self: always leave an alibi note.

I gulp down a glass of water. I think I’ll ride my bike over to… What was his name? …Liam’s house.

I’d like to meet your new friend. Invite him over.

I slip into my shoes. I’ll ask. We’re in the middle of some projects…uh…maybe creating an app to track homework assignments.

That sounds like something you can use starting middle school this year. Well, take him some of these chocolate chip cookies to welcome his family to the Ranch. She fills a bag as she talks.

Okay. Sure. I stuff them in my backpack.

I never had a chance to meet your last new friend…Sam. She stares at me until I squirm. Crud, it was Sam. Invite him over sometime too. And get their phone numbers.

I’ll try.

Mom opens the refrigerator, then turns around to face me again. And just a heads-up. Dad has something to talk to you about later. Some changes.

What kind of changes?

I’ll let Dad tell you. She wrinkles her nose. And, Nick?

Yeah?

I expect you to finish your last book report by the end of the week. Summer’s almost over.

As if I need anyone to remind me of that. But, Mom—

No excuses. Just do it.

I run out the door and take off. No one else has book reports over the summer. And Dad making changes is strange. We’re not a changing kind of family. I’ve lived in one house my whole life. Dad’s had one job. Mom only wanted one kid. I count on the fact that we’re predictable. Dad’s probably getting a new car or painting the house. I guess I’ll hear about it soon enough.

It’s the end of August, and the bike path’s crowded today. Hundreds of people come to Black Butte Ranch in Central Oregon every summer for vacation. If Liam were real, we could go paddle-boarding or swimming together. But since he doesn’t exist, and neither does Sam, I have lots of cookies to eat. It’s easy to have a secret life in a resort area. Tourists only stay about a week or so. Just a few of us live here year-round. No one much notices what I’m doing.

I head to Aspen Lake, not far from my house, and make my first stop in front of a small log cabin surrounded by pine trees. Most people at Black Butte leave their yards natural, but this one’s a little wilder than most. I’ll sweep the pine needles off the walkway before I leave.

I step up on the porch and peer through the open front door. Mr. Telly? It’s me, Nick. I’m not sure he can hear me with the whooshing of light sabers pulsing from the TV, but he waves from the couch. His white hair’s sticking up on one side.

Hey, Nick. The evil Empire’s coming. Are you ready? We watch the Star Wars marathon together at least once a month.

I plop down beside him. You bet. I’m always ready for a galactic battle. Do you want some cookies my mom made?

I never turn down cookies. He reaches in the bag and pulls one out.

And I’ll get your pills ready while we watch. Great Gramp used to do the pills. He told me it keeps Mr. Telly alive, and it’s pretty simple. I count them into his daily pill sorter—three white ones, a blue one, and a red one go in each compartment. It’s Monday today. Don’t forget to take these tonight when you go to bed.

He salutes. I’m on it.

I finish watching the last ten minutes of the movie and get up to leave. See you next week, I say.

Come any time, Nick.

Before I slip out the door, I open the coat closet and place an envelope in the pocket of Mr. Telly’s orange parka, the usual spot.

I quickly sweep his porch before I ride to Mr. Mason’s house in the Ridge Cabins. Mr. Mason went blind late in life and hasn’t learned to read braille yet. I knock on his door and open it. Hey, Mr. Mason. It’s Nick. Are you ready for another chapter?

He’s sitting in his recliner, petting his gray cat. That’d be great, Nick. His white hair is always perfectly combed.

And I brought you some cookies from my mom.

Thank you! I haven’t had homemade cookies in years.

We settle in for chapter twelve of Texas Ranger. Mr. Mason munches on a cookie while I read. I wish he were a superhero fan instead of a Westerns guy, but I’m liking this story well enough. When I run into some mushy love stuff, he tells me to skip three pages or so.

And that wraps it up for today. I close the book. I’ll be back next week.

Thanks much, Nick. You’re a better reader than your grandfather. Hope he can’t hear me say that.

I guess it doesn’t matter if he hears or not. What’s he going to do about it?

Mr. Mason chuckles. You got that right.

I head for the door. Well, see you next week. I don’t leave an envelope on my way out. He doesn’t need one.

Great Gramp died a year ago. When I’m with these old folks, I can almost imagine him about to come through the door carrying a box of old comic books he found at a garage sale or a carton of chocolate ice cream. But if Dad discovers I’m hanging out with these guys as much as I do, he’ll blow up. He wants me to make friends my own age, which would be fine and all. I’d like to have friends. It’s just not so easy.

I have one more stop. Along the edge of Glaze Meadow, I find Mrs. Baxter asleep in her hammock. At ninety-five, she’s Great Gramp’s oldest friend, but she thinks young. Great Gramp was ninety-two when he died.

Excuse me, Mrs. Baxter. I whisper so she doesn’t startle and fall out.

Nick? You’re just in time. I’ve got my e-reader all messed up. She fumbles to keep her balance while she sits up.

I keep an eye on her until she’s stable, then pick up her e-reader from the table. Let’s see what I can do. Mrs. Baxter loves electronic devices, but she can never remember how to work them. What book are you reading?

"A Tale of Two Cities, but I can’t find my place."

I open to the library and tap the book. Okay, it’ll have your page ready for you next time you turn it on.

As I approach Mrs. Baxter’s backdoor to stash her envelope inside, the screen swings open and almost hits me in the face. It slams against the house, and a boy about my age comes out.

Who’s this?

Chapter Two

Click: I’m never leaving home.

Inspector: Never say never.

Click: My home is glued to the earth.

Inspector: More like a ship carrying your life.

Click: Not helpful.

Before the boy quite realizes I’m here, I quickly slip the envelope back in my pocket and look over at Mrs. Baxter, expecting her to introduce us, but she’s busy reading.

Hi. Who’re you? he asks.

Nick. How am I supposed to deliver the envelope with him here?

I’m Patrick. He pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. Her great-grandson.

Hi. If I were nosier, I’d be asking where he’s from and doesn’t he know how to operate an e-reader.

My mom’s been sick, he says, so I’m staying here a while.

Oh, sorry. I blink hard. When Great Gramp was sick I never wanted to talk about it with anyone. It’s still difficult.

That’s okay. He sounds like he means it.

Mrs. Baxter looks up from her book. Patrick, why don’t you ride bikes with Nick?

Oh, great. Just what he wants.

Sure. I’ll grab my bike. He turns back to face me. Okay with you?

Yeah. Fine. As okay as Superman lining up to race Flash.