by jeff brown
By land or sea from the town to-night
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light, —
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be . . .”’”
Soon Mr. Bradford reached the other side of the river. He held the rowboat steady as the passengers climbed out, one by one.
In the shadows, Stanley could see another man dressed as a colonist. He shook Paul Revere’s hand and gave him a horse’s reins. The horse sneezed, and Mr. Revere laughed.
Maybe he was more friendly than he looked, Stanley thought. Maybe he was less worried about staying hidden, now that they were off the river. Even if British soldiers spotted him, Revere could outrun them. He could ride like the wind!
Just then, Paul Revere stepped out of the shadows, looked at the Lambchops, and finally spoke. “You must be Flat Stanley.”
“Yes . . . I am . . . ,” he stammered. He couldn’t believe it. Even Paul Revere knew who he was! It did make him feel a little better.
Mr. Revere smiled. “Would you like to go for a ride?”
He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop. “May I take Stanley to Lexington with me? It will be a ride he’ll never forget!”
Stanley answered without even thinking. “I love to deliver messages!” he said.
Mr. Lambchop chimed in right away. “Of course! Stanley won’t just see the ride of Paul Revere. He’ll live the ride of Paul Revere!”
This was the flip side of being flat, Stanley realized. Sometimes he needed special treatment, like when he was in danger of blowing away. But he also got to do special things! His stomach was full of butterflies again, but this time he was only excited, not afraid. He threw one flat leg over the horse and hung on tight.
Then Mr. Revere handed him something. It had three corners. It was a little damp around the edges. But Stanley knew just what it was. Somehow Paul Revere had saved it.
They made plans to meet up with Stanley’s family in Lexington. Then Mr. Revere climbed onto the horse, too. And as they rode away, he yelled, “We’re off, Stanley! Hold on to your hat!”
“Midnight” Ride
The road was a blur to Stanley. He could barely tell that they were leaving the city and heading into the smaller towns around Boston. The buildings were shorter here, and there was a lot less traffic. But Stanley couldn’t see the people on the sidewalks, or the names of the stores they passed. Paul Revere was riding too fast!
They were racing the British to warn some of the colonists’ most important leaders. But would they get to Lexington in time? Or would Samuel Adams and John Hancock be arrested before they got there?
Stanley squirmed in the saddle behind Mr. Revere. He held on tight—one hand around Paul Revere, the other on his hat—as the horse flew past cars and bicycles. Its hooves pounded so loudly that Stanley couldn’t hear anything else.
He could see the moon now, peeking out from behind some clouds. Soon it would be dark, and maybe rainy. Was this what it was like on the night the real Paul Revere rode to Lexington? What was the real Paul Revere thinking as he rushed along the road? Stanley wondered. Behind every shadow, and around every corner, there could have been someone waiting to stop him.
The horse was running down a twisty road. He veered right, and Stanley leaned into the turn. But when the horse veered left, Stanley was too late.
Suddenly, it was like the rowboat all over again! One minute, he was on the horse; the next minute, he was carried away by a gust of wind. Stanley drifted behind the horse like a boy-shaped leaf, and Mr. Revere didn’t hear or feel a thing. Even when Stanley yelled, “Help! HELP!”
Stanley floated to the ground like a piece of paper, just before the horse and rider disappeared around a bend in the road. He could hear the pounding hooves for a while longer . . . then nothing.
Stanley got out of the street quickly. His arm felt a little bruised from where’d he’d fallen, but his feelings were bruised, too. In just a few seconds, he’d gone from the center of American history to the side of the road.
Stanley had no idea what to do. He couldn’t get in touch with Mr. Revere. He couldn’t get in touch with his family. He didn’t even know where he was! Even speaking at a conference of doctors with Dr. Dan would be better than this.
Then he remembered Paul Revere. Not the one who’d dropped him, but the real one.
He was probably scared as he raced for Lexington, right? He must have been incredibly brave.
Stanley would have to be brave, too, if he was ever going to find his way out of here. He’d have to be strong. And if he could find some courage right now, maybe he could also find the courage to talk to Dr. Dan. In spite of the problems it caused for him, Stanley still hadn’t changed his mind about staying flat forever.
Stanley stood up, brushed himself off, and started walking.
It was so quiet in this neighborhood, wherever it was, that he could hear each of his footsteps clearly. As each one echoed, Stanley had a new thought.
He could reach his parents, if only he could find a phone.
In the twenty-first century, Lexington was probably full of phones!
Once he reached his parents, they would rescue him.
He would be safe.
But . . . to find a phone, he would have to ask someone.
He would have to talk to strangers.
How would he begin?
Stanley’s mind jumped to the real Paul Revere again. As he rode to Lexington, he spread the word that the British army was on its way. After all, Samuel Adams and John Hancock weren’t the only people who needed to know that an army had landed in Boston. Without his news, the army could have launched a surprise attack.
Stanley was dressed as a colonist. Anyone could guess that he was part of a reenactment. If he spoke to people as a colonist, they would be curious, for sure!
It was the strangest way ever to start a conversation, but Stanley would give it a try.
He passed a row of houses with green lawns. The first person he saw was mowing the grass. “The British are coming!” Stanley told him.
The man just pointed to his headphones. He couldn’t hear what Stanley was saying.
Stanley walked a little faster. He called up to a family eating dinner outside on their porch. “The British are coming!” They waved at him and smiled, like he had just made a polite remark about the weather. When the real Paul Revere rode, this news would have been like a lightning bolt!
A bicycle passed, and Stanley said it again. “The British are coming! Get ready!” The cyclist turned around and just stared as he rode by.
I must look a little funny, Stanley thought. Maybe I should try something else.
He could see a boy walking toward him, just about his age. He was taking a dog for a walk. When the dog spotted Stanley, he pulled at the end of his leash. Stanley stopped to pet him. “The British are coming,” he told the dog. He felt a little funny telling the boy.
But the boy, unlike the other people, seemed to understand. “Are you part of a reenactment?” he asked. “We have them a lot here in Lexington.”
Now Stanley knew where he was, at least.
The boy walked around Stanley, looking him up and down. “Are you pretending to be a British colonist, though? Or pretending to be Flat Stanley?”
Stanley smiled. “Both, actually.” It took him a while to explain. He had never been so happy to be famous.
The boy smiled back. “I’m Ryan Rogers,” he said. “Why don’t you come to my house? You can call your parents, and you can wait there until they come to get you.”
On the way, he asked Stanley about all of his adventures. He seemed to know every place Flat Stanley had ever been!
Stanley followed Ryan to his house. Arthur would love this place! he thought. In every room, there was some kind of Red Sox memorabilia. There were signed photos on the walls. There were pennants in the windows. There was a book of rare baseball cards
on the coffee table. When Ryan offered Stanley some water, it came in a cup that looked like a baseball!
“Here’s the phone,” said Ryan, handing it to Stanley. “My dad said we can drive you to meet your family, once you find out where they are.”
While he waited for his parents to answer the phone, Stanley looked around Ryan’s living room. There were rows of trophies on shelves. In a glass case, he saw a battered glove, a Red Sox jersey, and a gleaming golden ring. It looked like a ring you would have if you were part of a winning team.
“Someone here really loves the Red Sox,” Stanley said to Ryan.
Just then, Mrs. Lambchop answered the phone. “Hi, Mom,” said Stanley. “Don’t worry—I am fine. But I flew off Mr. Revere’s horse . . .” He tried not to sound upset.
“I am so happy to hear your voice!” said Mrs. Lambchop. “We were so worried when Mr. Revere arrived without you!”
“So he got there?” Stanley asked urgently. “Did he warn Samuel Adams and John Hancock?”
“Mr. Revere made it safe and sound,” Mrs. Lambchop reported. “He has continued on to Concord, where the colonists have stored their weapons.”
Stanley knew what would happen next. Any minute now, colonists would exchange fire with the British army on the Lexington town green. The Revolutionary War was about to begin! Thanks to Paul Revere, some of the colonists’ most important leaders were safe!
“Stay right where you are,” his mother said. “We will be there any minute to pick you up.”
“Oh,” said Stanley. “You don’t need to pick me up. A boy named Ryan rescued me. His father will drive me to meet you on the town green.”
Mrs. Lambchop was careful with people she didn’t know. “Does Ryan have a nice family?” she asked nervously.
But Stanley knew he would be safe. “Don’t worry, Mom,” he said. “Ryan’s dad is not a stranger. He knows a lot about us, because we are the Lambchops. But we know a lot about him, too. He is the left fielder for the Boston Red Sox!”
Fenway Park
Finally, the Lambchops were doing what Arthur wanted to do. They were finished with making history. The next day, they went to a baseball game! They were the guests of Ryan Rogers and his father, Richie Rogers, at Boston’s Fenway Park.
As Stanley walked through the entrance of the baseball field, it felt like he was going back in time all over again. Fenway Park was more than a hundred years old!
Stanley and Arthur followed Ryan onto the field. The Red Sox were practicing! They were doing what all baseball players—even kids—did before games. They were throwing, catching, and hitting. The difference was that the throws, catches, and hits went much farther than any that Stanley had ever seen. He watched one of the Red Sox hit a ball right out of the park!
“That’s just a practice hit?” Arthur asked in amazement.
Ryan grinned. “Right over the Green Monster!” he said.
“What do you mean?” Stanley asked. He did not see any monsters on the field. Ryan pointed at the place where the ball had disappeared. There was a tall green wall, stretching across left field. “See right there? That’s the Green Monster! It is thirty-seven feet tall.”
“It’s really hard to hit the ball over it, right?” Arthur said.
Ryan frowned. “Well, usually. But today we’re playing the Yankees, and anything is possible. Do you know about Zane Wayne?”
“I’ve heard he can hit any spot he aims for,” Arthur said. “He is super strong, and he has great control of the ball.”
“Yeah,” said Ryan. “That’s the problem.”
Just then, a player jogged up to the boys. “Is that Arthur Lambchop?” he asked, ruffling Arthur’s hair. Arthur knew a lot about the Red Sox, but he didn’t expect the Red Sox to know anything about him! But this was Ryan’s father, Richie Rogers. In the car, Stanley had told him all about his brother.
“I’m so glad you’re here for this big game,” Richie said to Arthur, signing a baseball.
Stanley didn’t know why the game was important, but Arthur did. “If you win today, you’ll be in first place in the league, right?” he said.
Richie Rogers gave Arthur a high-five. “I hear you’re our number one fan,” he said. “That’s why I’ve reserved top-notch seats for your family. Right on top of the Green Monster!”
Sure enough, the seats were right at the edge of the wall. From here, Stanley could see everything except the old-fashioned scoreboard, which was on the wall below him. He even saw an old friend! Zoey, from the duck tour, was sitting two rows behind them. She waved shyly at the boys. She showed them that she still had her ducky!
“I think Lucky is cheering for the Red Sox, too,” said Arthur.
As the game began and the Red Sox pitcher approached the mound, Ryan said, “We have our best pitcher out there. I just hope he can keep the Yankees from hitting. Zane Wayne could do some serious damage.”
The first pitch was in the air. “Ball one!”
“Zane Wayne does strike out sometimes,” Arthur pointed out.
“I know,” said Ryan. “But we have a big weak spot tonight, and we don’t know if he knows about it.”
“What is it?” Stanley asked. “Problems with hitting? Or fielding? Or both?”
Ryan lowered his voice and leaned toward the boys. “Actually, neither. The problem is that there’s a hole in the Green Monster. If Zane Wayne sees it, he can hit a ball right at it. And if it goes through, he’ll have a home run!”
Stanley thought for a minute. Ryan had helped him in Lexington. Could he help Ryan at Fenway Park?
“I have an idea,” Stanley said when the first half of the inning ended. “But we have to be fast. Zane Wayne is the next Yankee at bat!”
Stanley told his parents that they were going to get some snacks. While Arthur and Ryan stood in line for food, though, Stanley went to the gift shop. He bought himself a T-shirt that was the same color as the Green Monster! Quickly, he slipped it on. He also slipped two pieces of bubble gum into his mouth.
He found the other boys paying for a hot dog and a big bag of popcorn. As they carried their snacks through the crowd, Stanley spotted yet another familiar face. It was Dr. Dan! He was taking in a game before the conference ended tonight with his speech—and Stanley’s. For now, Stanley ducked out of sight, but he would make sure to find Dr. Dan after the game. Stanley was ready to be as brave as Paul Revere.
The boys were back at their seats before the inning ended. Stanley took a deep breath. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” he told the boys. “I’m going to cover the hole!”
“But how will you get to it?” Arthur asked. “It’s in the middle of the wall!”
“Easy!” said Ryan. “There’s a ladder that leads right there. What a great idea!”
“And you’ll . . . stick to the wall?” Arthur said. “How is that going to work?”
Stanley blew a big, sticky bubble. “The gum should hold me for Zane Wayne’s at bat,” he said. “And I will be so flat and so green that I’ll blend right in!”
When the announcer called Zane Wayne’s name, there were a few cheers and a few boos. He was not very popular at Fenway Park. While the whole crowd’s attention was on the Yankees star, Stanley crept down the ladder in his green shirt.
He spotted the hole right away and covered it with his belly. With gum on his hands and feet, he was suspended on the wall at four points. It was not very comfortable, Stanley had to admit. But nobody could see his face. And nobody could see the hole.
The only problem was that he couldn’t see anything, either. He didn’t know what Zane Wayne was doing. He imagined the slugger swaggering toward the plate. He imagined him taking a practice swing. But did he know where to aim? Stanley wondered. He was about to find out!
“Strike one!” the announcer said. There was some applause for the pitcher.
A second later, though, the announcer said, “Ball one. Ball two!”
The pitches were coming quickly, and Zane Wayne knew just how
to handle them. He probably knew what to expect from this pitcher, Stanley thought. But did he know about the hole in the wall?
Just then, he heard a sharp crack. It might have been a thunderbolt. Or it might have been the sound of Zane Wayne’s bat whacking the ball.
Suddenly, the crowd was silent, like it was waiting. There was a chorus of “Oh no!” from the section above the Green Monster. The ball had to be coming toward the outfield!
Stanley pressed himself against the hole in the wall. He braced for a shock. Then he felt a sharp gust of wind, like a tiny rocket had passed him by. There was another crack, just above his shoulder, where the ball hit.
Yes, Zane Wayne knew about the hole. But he had missed it by two inches, and there was no way it could bounce in by mistake.
Flat Stanley had it covered.
And Zane Wayne was out!
For his next at bat, Stanley did a repeat performance. And by the time Zane Wayne was up again, in the eighth inning, he was replaced by a pinch hitter.
Arthur could see him in the Yankees dugout. “He doesn’t look very happy,” he reported.
But Stanley was happier than he had been on the whole Boston trip. He knew what he had to do, and now he had the courage to do it.
When the game was over, the score was 1-0, Red Sox. One home run from Zane Wayne would have made a big difference. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Stanley!” Ryan said, jumping out of his seat. “You saved the game!”
The boys gathered their things. They followed Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop out of the stadium. “There’s someone I need to talk to,” Stanley told his brother and Ryan. “Dr. Dan is around here, somewhere. I have something important to tell him.”
Ryan Rogers showed Stanley where to wait. “This is the busiest exit,” he explained. “I am sure it’s where your friend will walk out. And you are welcome at Fenway Park any time!”
While Arthur and his parents went back to the gift shop, Stanley stood near the exit. The crowds thinned out until there were only a few baseball fans left, and many of them stared curiously at Stanley. He didn’t even care. He was proud to be flat! He was just about to give up when Dr. Dan walked by.