On Friday, Mia had to go to the dentist after school.
And on Saturday and Sunday, we couldn’t get together. I had to work on my term paper. It was due on Monday—and I hadn’t even started it.
I wasn’t worried about it. I knew exactly what I was going to write about—the history of comic books in the United States.
It was going to be excellent. I knew it.
I got up early Saturday morning and started working on it right away. I sat at my computer for hours. It took me all day to write. Then, on Sunday, I set out my pens and inks and began to illustrate it.
Superman. Spider-Man. Sub-Mariner. The X-Men. All my favorite superheroes.
As I drew the big S on Superman’s costume, I thought about flying. About how awesome it felt when I soared on a strong current. Or sailed on a gentle breeze.
I pictured myself zooming up from the ground and streaking over the trees. Then slowing down. Drifting lazily among the clouds. Then blasting off again, into the stratosphere—like Superman.
I pictured myself performing all kinds of fancy feats—spirals, nosedives, back flips in the air. I pictured myself doing all these things—for Mia. And for Wilson…
We handed in our term papers on Monday. A rainy Monday.
No flying today either. I sighed. Who ever heard of so much rain in California?
The rest of the week remained gray and stormy. The whole week—a total washout.
On Friday, the teacher handed back our term papers.
Yes!
I got a 97! And she wrote “Good job!” across the top.
“Hey, Wilson. Look—ninety-seven!” I held up my paper for him to see. “Pretty good, huh!”
“That is pretty good,” Wilson agreed. “But it’s not excellent!” Wilson smiled gleefully.
He held up his paper.
It had a big, fat 98 written on it.
And the words, “Excellent job!”
I could feel my cheeks begin to burn. Stay calm, I told myself. It won’t rain forever.
I woke up the next morning. I bolted to the window. Pushed the curtains aside. The warm rays of the sun splashed across my face.
All right! I pumped both fists into the air.
I called Wilson and Mia and told them to meet me in the park. Right away.
Mia arrived first. Wilson showed up a few minutes later, waving, excitedly.
“Hey, guys—big news!” He charged over to us. “Guess where I’m going on spring break.”
“Where?” Mia asked eagerly.
“New York City!” he exclaimed. “My parents are taking me to New… York… City. Can you believe it?”
“That’s great!” Mia cheered. She slapped him a high five.
“Where are you going for spring break, Jackie?” Wilson asked.
“Uh… nowhere. My parents have to work,” I murmured.
“Hey—bad break,” Wilson said. But I could tell he didn’t mean it. “Of course, my trip is no big deal,” he went on. “I’ve been to New York before. Four times.”
“Four times!” Mia cried. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Wilson replied. “Four times. And the last time I was there, I rode the subway—by myself!”
You’re right, Wilson, I thought. New York City is no big deal. Because no one is going to care about your bragging in a few seconds.
“Hey, Wilson. Want to race?” I asked. “You can practice running for the subway.”
“Not funny, Jackie,” Wilson replied. “Anyway, what’s the point of a race? You know you can’t run as fast as I can.”
“Come on,” I urged. “Race you to the flagpole and back. I’ll beat you this time, Wilson. Really.”
“No way you can win.” He shrugged. “But—okay.”
This was it.
My big moment.
My heart began to pound.
I was going to win the race. And shock them both—because I was going to fly!
Wilson and I stood side by side.
“On your mark. Get set—” Mia announced.
I raised my arms high. Pointed them to the sky. Wilson turned to me, staring at my odd racing position.
“GO!” Mia cried.
I took a running leap—and blasted off the ground. I soared up—up over the grass. Into the air. Up toward the treetops.
Yes! Yes! I was flying!
“WHOOOAAA!” Mia shrieked in amazement as I soared with the wind.
Now for the best part.
I peered down to the ground to see the sick look on Wilson’s face.
I peered down—and screamed in surprise.
Below me, I saw Wilson.
He was RIGHT below me.
Inches away from me.
Wilson was flying, too.
19
“NOOOOO!” I shrieked. “NO WAAAAY!”
I was so shocked—so totally horrified—I dropped my arms to my sides.
Oh, no…
I went into a steep dive.
I uttered a weak cry as the ground shot up to meet me—fast.
I kicked my legs. Swung my arms up frantically.
And flew headfirst into a tree trunk.
“Ohhh.” Pain shot through my body as I sank to the grass.
Sprawled on my back, I raised my eyes to Wilson. I clutched my stomach, sickened at the sight of him.
Wilson—flying. Wilson—soaring easily to the flagpole and back.
I watched as he gently swooped down. “I win, Jackie!” he exclaimed, making a smooth landing beside me.
“How did you DO THAT?” Mia screamed with excitement.
Wilson planted his hands on his hips. “Aw. It’s easy,” he bragged. “Nothing to it.”
I opened my mouth to speak—but only a tiny squeak came out.
Wilson laughed. “Jackie, you need some propellers or something. Your jets are kind of slow!”
My heart sank.
“How—how—?” I sputtered.
“Oh, I’ve always known how to fly,” Wilson said.
“REALLY?” Mia cried.
“Not really,” he laughed. “Jackie taught me how.”
“No. No, I didn’t!” I managed to choke out.
“Yes, you did, Jack. You just didn’t know it!” Wilson hooted. “I saw you flying the day I got my new Rollerblades.”
“How did you see him flying?” Mia demanded. “I was with you. How come I didn’t see him?”
“Don’t you remember?” Wilson replied. “I was skating way ahead of you—because you couldn’t keep up with me. So I skated over to Jack’s house to show him my new blades—and I saw him fly.”
I stood up slowly.
I faced Wilson. Ready to punch out his lights. I admit it. I was out of control.
He had ruined my big moment. Ruined it.
I wanted to punch him like a punching bag. But somehow I kept myself together. I clenched my fists until they ached.
I had to find out exactly how he learned to fly. “So—you saw me.” I narrowed my eyes. “Then what?”
“Then I followed you to your garage. I saw you hide the book in the mattress. And so I… borrowed it. And I followed the easy instructions.”
He grinned at Mia. “I’m like a real superhero.” He puffed out his chest. “I love it!”
He turned back to me. “Hey, Jack! You can be my sidekick.”
I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK, WILSON! I want to win. Just once. Just once, I want to beat you.
That’s what I thought—but I didn’t say it. I didn’t say anything. I just stomped away.
Face it, I told myself glumly as I headed out of the park. You’ll never beat Wilson at anything.
“Jack—come back!” Mia called. “I want to see you fly again.”
No way, I thought. What was the point now? I kept walking.
“Please, Jack!” Mia cried. “You looked so awesome up there. Please do it again!”
I stopped.
Maybe I should fly for Mia. Impress her with some fancy flying maneuvers
.
Okay, I decided. I’ll fly one more time—to impress her.
I took a deep breath. Then, with my arms stretched out in front of me, I zoomed up. Up to the treetops.
“Go, Jack! Go, Jack! Go, Jack!” Mia chanted, smiling and waving.
I banked to the left and glided through a big fluffy cloud. When I broke through the other side, Wilson was there to meet me.
We flew side by side—looping, diving, then soaring back up. We matched movement for movement—as if we’d practiced together a thousand times.
Then Wilson swooped away from me.
He rolled under me. Jetted behind me. Rolled under me again.
“Yahoo!” I heard him scream from somewhere above me.
I floundered in the air. I didn’t know where Wilson was. Where he was going to turn up next.
He circled me—like a mad bird.
“Wilson!” I yelled. “Cut it out!”
“Lighten up, Jackie!” he laughed.
Then, he moved in front of me—blocking my path. Blocking my view.
“Get out of the way!” I screamed. “I’m going to crash into you!”
Wilson let out a roar, like a plane. Then took a steep dive. Now I could see.
Too late.
I smacked hard into a flagpole.
I could hear Wilson’s cruel laugh as I tumbled to the ground.
“Excellent landing, Jackie!” he called. He dropped easily to the grass in front of Mia.
Mia clapped and cheered.
“Well, I have to go! I’m late for my tennis game. Want to come?” Wilson asked me.
“I don’t play tennis,” I replied between clenched teeth.
“Oh. I thought you did,” he said, puzzled. “Ray and Ethan told me you were taking lessons. Well, got to go!”
Wilson hurried off.
“Jack—I want to fly too! Please teach me how to fly!” Mia begged.
“I don’t know, Mia…” I started. “I wanted to keep this kind of secret. I mean—nobody knows about it. Except you and Wilson. If we’re all flying around Malibu, somebody will find out.”
I hated to admit it, but I really didn’t want Mia to learn how to fly.
“Jack! You have to show me how. It isn’t fair that you and Wilson can fly and I can’t!” she wailed. “It isn’t fair!”
Whoa. Wait a minute! I told myself. Maybe I should teach Mia how to fly. If I’m the one to teach her, she’ll really be impressed. This could be my big chance.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll teach you how to fly. Let’s go back to my house. We’ll get the flying book.”
“Thank you! Thank you, Jack!” Mia was so excited, she hugged me.
I led the way to our garage.
“Oooh! I can’t wait!” Mia jumped with glee.
I stopped in front of the garage door.
“What are you waiting for, Jack? Open it!” she cried impatiently.
“Weird. It’s closed,” I said, confused. “The garage door is never closed.”
“So—open it!” Mia demanded.
I reached for the handle.
I tugged up the garage door—and cried out in shock.
20
Gone!
Everything—gone. The dentist’s spit-sink. Mrs. Green’s pool steps. The old mattress. All gone.
I stared at the empty garage in shock.
“Ohhhh, noooo. Dad cleaned out the garage,” I moaned unhappily. “Mia—I can’t teach you how to fly. The book—is gone.”
“You read the book, Jack. You have to remember what it said!” Mia protested. “I want to FLY! Think! You’ve got to remember!”
“It’s no use,” I told her. “We need the secret ingredient. It was in an envelope. Inside the book. It’s gone.”
Mia shook her head and uttered an angry groan.
Then a look of calm came over her face. “That’s okay, Jack. Maybe it’s just as well. This flying thing is kind of scary.”
“So—you’re not angry at me?” I asked her.
“No,” she replied. “It really wasn’t your fault. You know what I think, Jack?”
I shook my head. “No. What?”
“I think you shouldn’t fly anymore. Or maybe you should tell your parents about it. I mean, it’s not normal. I have a very bad feeling about it.”
I shrugged.
“Jack—I’m not kidding. I don’t think you should fly anymore. It’s not safe.”
“But I don’t want to stop,” I protested. “It’s so much fun. It’s awesome. Totally awesome up there. Besides, what could happen?”
That night after dinner, I hurried to my room to work on a new superhero drawing.
I drew the outline of his figure. I was going to call him Captain Arrow.
I shoved my chair away from my desk. Stared out the window for a while. Returned to my drawing.
I drew a purple leather quiver over Captain Arrow’s shoulder—to hold his powerful crimson arrows.
I got up. Looked outside again. I don’t know—drawing superheros seemed kind of boring now.
I left my room to find Dad. To ask him to shoot some baskets outside with me.
I found Dad—and Mom—snoozing on the couch in the living room.
I called Ethan and Ray to see if they wanted to play—but they couldn’t. They both had homework to do.
Tiptoeing through the hall, I left the house through the back door. I stood in the backyard and gazed up at the stars. It was a perfect night. Warm. Not a cloud in the sky.
A perfect night for a short flight over Malibu.
I glanced around—to make sure no one was watching. Then I soared up into the night sky.
Over the rooftops. Over the trees. Over the beach.
I took a deep breath. The ocean air smelled so fresh, so sweet up here.
A light breeze blew through my hair.
So peaceful. So quiet.
So free. Soaring high. Gazing out. Surrounded by nothing but twinkling stars.
I picked up speed. The wind rushed at my face. My T-shirt rippled against my chest.
The stars streamed by. The ocean rolled darkly beneath me.
I gazed down at the Malibu Hills. Then headed toward Los Angeles. I flew over the city. The lights below sparkled for miles.
I flew faster. Barrel-rolled to the left. Then to the right. Then headed into a loop, flying upside down.
Awesome!
Totally awesome!
I’m so lucky! I can sail! Glide! Soar!
“I can FLYYYY!” I whooped, spinning in the air.
I glided for a while on my back, gazing up at the stars. Trying to identify the constellations. Then I spun around and peered down—into total darkness.
No porch lights. No street lamps. No headlights from cars.
No houses. No buildings.
Total darkness.
A wave of panic swept over me. How did this happen? Where is the city? Where am I?
“How long have I been flying?” I groaned. “How far have I flown?”
I didn’t know.
I swooped down, searching for a dim light somewhere. But all I saw was darkness. Complete darkness.
I turned around—heading back home, I hoped.
Swooping lower. Searching for a familiar sight.
Finally I spotted a string of lights. A freeway! But which freeway? I couldn’t tell!
My heart pounded in my chest. Cold beads of sweat prickled my forehead.
I’m lost, I realized, shivering in cold dread.
I am miles and miles from home.
Totally lost.
21
I landed in the tall grass on the side of the freeway.
I started to walk. Searching for a sign to tell me where I was.
I walked and walked.
The night was quiet, except for the cars that roared by—and the creepy rustling sounds that escaped from the roadside bushes.
I stared into the bushes. Saw them move.
My heart began to beat faster.
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I broke into a jog.
Cars and trucks whirred by me.
A sharp cluttering noise rang out from the dense thicket beside the highway. I could see dark eyes glowing in the bushes.
“Hey—!”
A furry creature scuttled across my path.
A raccoon? A skunk?
I started to run.
Up ahead I finally spotted a highway sign.
I ran harder—panting now. Clouds of dirt rose up under my pounding sneakers.
I could see the white letters on the sign—but I still couldn’t make out what it said. As I ran toward it, a car pulled alongside me—and stopped.
I spun around—and gasped.
A police cruiser.
Yes! I thought happily. The police! They’ll help me get back home.
“Do you need help?” One of the officers stepped out of the squad car. He tipped his cap back and stared into my eyes.
“Yes. I do. I’m kind of lost,” I told him breathlessly. “Can you take me home—to Malibu?”
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Jack.”
“Well, Jack. You’re pretty far from Malibu. How did you get here?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. What could I say? I flew here? They’d take me back all right. And lock me up—with all the other crazy people in Los Angeles.
“Jack. Did someone drive you here?”
I shook my head no.
“Well, did you just drop out of the sky?” He sounded as if he was losing his patience.
I shrugged my shoulders lamely.
“Get in the car, Jack,” the officer nodded toward the car door. “We’ll find your parents for you.”
Oh, no! I suddenly changed my mind. I can’t let them take me back, I decided, shaking in panic. What will I tell Mom and Dad? How will I explain to them how I got here?
I edged away.
The officer reached out to me. “Get in, Jack. We’ll help you.”
“Uh… no thanks,” I told him.
I raised both arms over my head.
And took off.
Gazing down—I saw the other officer leap out of the car.
The two of them stood side by side, gaping up at me with their mouths open wide.
I followed the lights of the highway. I didn’t know what else to do. Finally the buildings of Los Angeles came back into view. I let out a long sigh of relief. Then I turned in midair and flew home to Malibu.
52 - How I Learned to Fly Page 5