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powder into the dish.
    â€œOkay, watch this.” He scanned Clandestino from head to toe. Then he scraped some soot off Clandestino’s shirt with his finger and sprinkled it over the white powder. He did this a few times till Clandestino was almost clean and the amount of soot collected was as much as the plain white powder on the dish!

    â€œClan, your soot is indeed helpful, no?” Mundi muttered, as he mixed the white powder and black soot.
    â€œOkay, this is weird,” Janice commented. After 10 minutes of scraping and sprinkling, dusting and flicking, Mundi jumped up.
    â€œPerfect fingerprint powder!” he announced, obviously very pleased with himself. “You see? This is called fingerprint powder!”
    â€œCOOOOOOL!!” we chorused. We were our very own detectives. Who needs CSI?
    Mundi turned and looked at me through his thick magnifying glass-like spectacles. With euphoria in his eyes, he asked, “Darryl, do you have some clear scotch tape?”
    â€œYes,” I replied. I quickly got up and came back with the scotch tape, careful not to spoil the moment.
    By this time, Mundi was dipping the make-up brush into the dish of fingerprint powder and dusting it on the can.
    â€œMy m-m-mother is definitely, m-m-most definitely going to k-k-kill me, no?” Mundi mumbled.
    All of us couldn’t do much but munch on our soggy donuts and wait.
    Then all of a sudden, we could see the distinct mark of a fingerprint! Actually, there were a few but only one was clearer than the others.
    â€œDarryl, scotch tape.” Mundi snapped his fingers like a surgeon demanding his tools. I reached for the scotch tape and tried with all my might to pull out some, but to no avail.
    â€œHere, let me do it!” Clandestino grabbed the tape unceremoniously and in a second, pulled out a length of tape about 10 centimetres long.
    â€œHere you go, Mundi.” He tore a section off.
    Mundi took the tape and carefully pasted it over the fingerprint on the can, pressing down as hard as he could. He exerted so much force that his tongue came out and was licking his lips awkwardly.
    â€œEew!” I heard Janice whisper when she saw Mundi’s tongue.
    Mundi counted to 10 and then tore off the scotch tape.
    â€œTa da!” he exclaimed. There was a fingerprint on it! He quickly took a piece of white paper and pasted the fingerprinted tape on it.
    â€œSee! Now we can bring this anywhere we want,” Mundi concluded. He was smiling gleefully.
    The three of us looked at the paper and couldn’t believe what Mundi had just accomplished. It was amazing.
    â€œYes, that will come in handy,” Clandestino muttered. “So the teachers won’t think I am the suspect.”
    I pinched the white paper gingerly, folded it into half and sandwiched it in my book of poems (where all other secrets are kept).
    â€œGood thinking, Clan!” Janice smiled. “But why didn’t you show the teachers how fast you can run? If you just show them, maybe they’ll believe you.”
    â€œYeah, Clan. After all, they can see how fast you are during PE and the basketball match,” I said.
    Clandestino shook his head and said, “You think that’s fast? I can be much faster if I want to.”
    He looked up at all of us, sadness in his eyes. “You know why my name is Clandestino?”
    â€œNo,” Mundi replied. “It sounds cool?”
    â€œI hate my name!” Clandestino replied. “My parents knew since I was young that I had special abilities. They knew someday that people would come after me – the army, the government, crazy scientists. No offence, Mundi.”
    He sighed. “So… they named me Clandestino, which means secret, to remind myself never to tell or show anyone my secret ability. It is meant to protect me.”
    We all looked down. All of us had special abilities too, but we weren’t as sad as Clandestino. It was ironic. He was the