Freddie Ramos Makes a Splash (8 page)

“Let’s go!” I said to Maria. When we got into the classroom,

Mrs. Blake asked us to open our math books and study for our Friday test.

But everyone’s eyes, even Mrs. Blake’s, kept drifting to the window, where fat snowflakes were falling. First the grass turned white, then the road.

“How much snow do we need to cancel school?” Jason asked.

“In Wisconsin, where I grew up,” Mrs. Blake said, “we needed two feet of snow. But around here, it just needs to be slippery outside.”

Slippery? Was that good for my super speed? I chewed my pencil.

Something was squealing outside. We dashed out of our seats to watch by the window.

“That blue car is stuck,” Mrs. Blake said. “It can’t get up the hill.”

The snow was making everyone—even our teacher—forget it was math time. Part of me was excited. Slippery roads meant no school and no test tomorrow. The other part of me was worried. If cars couldn’t move in the snow, could my super-powered sneakers?

“ANNOUNCEMENT!” The principal’s voice came through the intercom. “SCHOOL WILL BE CLOSING EARLY.”

“YAY!” everybody shouted, even Mrs. Blake. I was the only one in the room who wasn’t smiling.

Maria and I walked home together.

By that time, snow had completely covered the steps leading up to Starwood Park, where we lived.

“Help!” Maria giggled, grabbing the rail.

We couldn’t keep from slipping, and my purple zapatos were soaked. How could I run at super speed with wet shoes?

“I need my boots,” Maria said. “At least you have some,” I grumbled.

Maria looked at me. “You don’t?” I shook my head. My super zapatos were the only shoes I had.

She patted my arm. “Don’t worry. Alonzo probably has some boots that are too small for him.”

Maria’s big brother, Alonzo, went to high school, and her youngest brother, Gio, was in first grade. Since we were neighbors, Maria’s mom let me wear Alonzo’s clothes until Gio was big enough for them. At Starwood Park, people shared.

“Keep your fingers crossed for a snow day tomorrow!” Maria said at the door of her apartment, 28G.

I watched her go inside. But I didn’t open my door to 29G, even though my nose was a Popsicle and I knew my guinea pig, Claude the Second, was waiting for me.

The metro train was rumbling by Starwood Park on its overhead track. Claude the Second would understand. There was something important I needed to find out.

I pulled my silver goggles out of my coat pocket and took a big breath. What would happen when I pressed the button on my purple wristband?

A puff of smoke cut right through the snowflakes. In half a blink, I was behind Starwood Park, running beside the overhead train track. The train zoomed by!
Rápido!
But not as fast as my Zapato Power!

As I ran, my speed made so much heat that it pushed the curtain of snow away from me and dried up the ground. I went faster and faster, not feeling cold at all—not even my nose!

The train fell behind me, just like every other day with Zapato Power in my shoes. If someone needed a superhero, Freddie Ramos would be ready. But in the meantime, my guinea pig was waiting for me back at 29G.

When I opened the door, my guinea pig wasn’t the only one waiting.

“Freddie!” Mom frowned. “How come you didn’t come straight home after school?”

“Mom! How come you’re not at your office?”

“WHEET!” Claude the Second stood up in his cage and squealed. He didn’t care who was home first. He wanted his afternoon carrot.

“Everybody canceled because of the storm. We closed the office early.”

“So you get a snow day too!” I said.

Mom stopped frowning. “Sí, mi hijito.” She kissed my forehead. “Let’s have some hot cocoa.”

“Great idea!”

While Mom heated the milk, I took off my purple zapatos. They were as dry as a warm blanket. So were my socks. My friend Mr. Vaslov would be happy to hear this. Just because he invented my super shoes didn’t mean he knew everything about them. Inventions can do unexpected things. That’s why you have to test them. Lucky for me, Mr. Vaslov chose me to be the Zapato Power tester.

We drank our hot cocoa on the couch in front of the television news.

A weatherman was standing beside a snow-covered highway with a microphone.

“It’s a March blizzard,” he said. “Wind gusts of fifty miles per hour are expected as the storm drops almost a foot of snow.”

“A whole foot!” Mom put her hands on her cheeks. “And high winds! This sounds serious!”

I turned away from Mom to wink at Claude the Second, munching on his carrot. With Zapato Power, I could take care of us. But Mom didn’t know my superhero secret. Shoes with super speed and super bounce are the sort of thing moms think are dangerous. And a good superhero doesn’t upset his mom.

“Remember the jigsaw puzzle Uncle Jorge sent me for Christmas?” Mom said.

“The one called Snow Queen?” I asked. “With a thousand pieces?”

“Yes,” Mom answered. “This might be a good time to put it together.”