The Amazing Flight of Darius Frobisher (13 page)

T
he next day, as Darius was on his way out the door to the library, he heard his aunt talking on the phone. He peeked into the living room.

“Yes, Colonel,” Aunt Inga said with sugary politeness. “Yes sir, we’ll look forward to seeing you. I must tell you, he’s not very well behaved…. It doesn’t? You can fix that? Wonderful. When does school begin? … That soon? Fine. Darius and I will look forward to meeting you…. Yes, thank you ever so much. Good-bye, Colonel Crimper.”

She hung up the phone and turned to Darius. “That was the headmaster of Crapper Academy,” she warbled. “What a wonderful man. So distinguished sounding. He has an opening for you at the school, and he will be coming to meet us tomorrow. I just hope you don’t ruin the whole thing.”

“But Aunt Inga,” pleaded Darius, “I
really
don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to Crapper Academy. I don’t want to go with Anthony. Please don’t—”

“Oh, now you’re singing a different tune. I just knew it. Now that I’ve made arrangements, you’ve changed your mind and
you like it here? Well, it’s too late for that. What’s done is done.”

“But–”

“I’m not in the mood for your excuses.” The words spewed out of her mouth. “Don’t you ever think of anyone else? You’ve been under the impression that the whole world is here to serve you. I guess now you’ll finally find out how the world works. School starts in a week and then I’ll be free of you.”

Darius glared at his aunt.

“I know you don’t like me,” she said. “This will be best for both of us. You won’t have to see me except at Christmas and in the summer—unless they have a summer program.”

At precisely eleven o’clock the next morning, there was a sharp knock on the front door.

“Answer that!” shouted Aunt Inga from her bedroom. “I’m not quite ready yet.”

Darius opened the door. A very large, round man dressed in an olive-green military uniform stood before him.

“Atten-hut!” the man shouted.

Darius was so stunned he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare. Everything about the man was massive. The head on top of his rotund body was big and square. He had enormous features—large ears, a bulbous nose, a huge mouth with puffy lips, and the bushiest eyebrows Darius had ever seen.

“Atten-hut!”
the man bellowed. Still Darius stared.

The man ripped open the screen door and leaned over until his bushy eyebrows and monstrous mouth were inches from Darius’s face.

“Excuse me, son,” he said in a menacing whisper, “but maybe
you’re hard of hearing. I said … ATTEN-HUT!” The roar hit Darius like a freight train and he jumped back two feet. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself standing straight with his arms at his sides.

A smile spread across the colonel’s face. “That’s better, son. You must be Darius. I’ve come to meet you and your wonderful aunt.”

“Here I am,” sang out Aunt Inga as she came into the living room all dressed up in a horrible frilly dress that Darius had never seen. “You must be Colonel Crimper.” Her voice was as cheery and sunny as a kindergarten teacher on the first day of school. Darius felt like throwing up. He’d never heard Aunt Inga use that voice before, and he instantly spotted it as a fake. He noticed that it didn’t bother the colonel at all.

Darius knew that was a bad sign. Anyone who couldn’t tell Aunt Inga was being fake was probably fake himself. Or a monster that didn’t give a fig.

Aunt Inga ordered Darius to sit on the most uncomfortable chair in the living room and listen while she and Colonel Crimper talked. Aunt Inga said the most terrible and untrue things about Darius, as if he weren’t even in the room. Colonel Crimper nodded sympathetically and assured her that his academy had very effective methods for dealing with unruly lads.

Darius had often heard his father say that going from a bad situation to a worse one was like “leaping from the frying pan into the fire.” That expression now had a whole new meaning for Darius. If Aunt Inga was a frying pan, Colonel Crimper was a fire. A big one.

“Of course, our students are still boys,” said Colonel Crimper
as they opened the second bag of cookies, “but we believe it’s never too early to start them on the road to manhood. We don’t coddle them. Talking in class is not tolerated; on the third offense the student is put in solitary confinement for three days. They can talk as much as they want there!” The colonel laughed at his own joke.

“You put them in jail for talking?” Darius blurted out.

Both Aunt Inga and Colonel Crimper stared at him. Neither of them spoke.

“I was just curious,” Darius muttered.

To make matters worse, halfway through the visit Mrs. Gritbun and Anthony showed up. Aunt Inga’s singsong voice may have made Darius feel sick, but Anthony’s behavior was enough to make him throw up everything he had ever eaten.

“Good morning, Colonel Crimper, SIR!” shouted Anthony, standing at attention, staring off into space and saluting.

The colonel rose and saluted back.

“At ease, Gritbun, at ease.” The colonel chuckled. “Gritbun, Gritbun, Gritbun. One of our very best. A man we’re proud of. Isn’t that right, Gritbun?”

“Yes SIR!” shouted Anthony.

Darius felt his undigested breakfast rising up in his throat.

“This is the kind of young man Crapper produces!” the colonel boomed. With the larger audience, he raised his voice and went on and on about the wonders of Crapper Academy. The two ladies enjoyed his blather as much as he enjoyed blathering.

The colonel blabbed. Aunt Inga and Mrs. Gritbun smiled. Anthony smirked. Darius stared at the ceiling. After another half hour of bluster and bombast, Colonel Crimper got up to leave. At the door he said to Aunt Inga, “I’m quite confident everything
will work out fine. Anthony Gritbun is one of our finest cadets. And I’ll make sure he personally sees young Darius through the first term. You’ll do that, won’t you, Gritbun?”

Anthony directed one of his most evil smiles at Darius.

“Yes, sir!” Anthony said with great relish.

Why can’t anyone else see how terrible he is?
thought Darius.

“You are all so kind,” said Aunt Inga. “How can we thank you? Finally, finally, something is going right. It’s about time, after all I’ve been through.”

“It’s nothing,” said the colonel, “just doing my job … but, if you’d excuse us, I’d like young Darius to walk me to the car, so we might have a word in private—a little talk between men, you understand.”

“Of course, of course,” giggled Aunt Inga. “You go on ahead.”

Colonel Crimper grabbed Darius by the arm and led him down the porch stairs to the street. When they reached the car, he turned and bent over Darius, glowering.

“Listen, you little heathen,” he hissed, “I’ve seen your kind—I know what you’re like. And I know what to do with you. I know how to straighten you out.”

Darius’s mouth went dry and his legs wobbled.

“I’ll make you a new man, whether you want to be one or not. I can hardly wait.”

Darius thought he might faint.

“What do you have to say to that?” the colonel rumbled, leaning even closer.

“I … I …,” squeaked Darius.

“Speak up, boy, and call me ‘sir’!”

I know what you are thinking.

You are wishing that Darius would say, “No way, you big
lunk!”

Or, “Not for a million dollars. Not for a trillion dollars!”

Or maybe you are wishing that Darius would just throw up on Colonel Crimper’s shoes. That would be very satisfying.

But you know that speaking up to loud, bossy adults is a very difficult thing to do. Even when they are mean and wrong.

Instead, Darius looked down at his own shoes and said, “Yes sir.”

But inside his head Darius was saying,
No, no, no!

Back in Daedalus’s basement, Darius tried to concentrate. It bothered him that his friend had been so quiet since their argument about Miss Hastings. Daedalus answered his questions and gave a hand when he needed help, but most of the time he busied himself on other projects and left Darius to work alone.

Forcing all other thoughts out of his head, Darius buckled down to the job at hand. He was in a hurry—there is nothing like a deadline to make you finish something, and escaping Crapper Academy was about the best motivation he’d ever had. Over the next two days, he reassembled the bike.

He greased the cups that held the ball bearings, put the bearings back in each cup, and reassembled both wheels.

He put together the headset that held the handlebars.

He cleaned and greased the chain and checked each link to make sure it was strong.

Then, placing the bike frame upside down on the worktable, Darius attached the wheels and gave them a whirl.

They spun and spun and spun. There in Daedalus’s basement,
it seemed they would spin on forever.

“Daedalus,” he called, “I think it’s finished.”

Together they stood back and looked at their handiwork. The chrome glistened, the black chain stood out against the silver wheels and sprocket, and the brilliant blue-green of the frame and fenders sparkled and shone.

“What do you think of it, Daedalus?”

“It’s beautiful,” said Daedalus. “You did a wonderful job.”

“With your help.”

“Not much of that,” said Daedalus. “Are you ready for the first ride?”

“I sure am,” Darius said.

They carried the bicycle up the stairs, out the back door, through the maze of bikes and bike parts, around the house, and into the street. Darius climbed on the bike.

“Wait! Wait!” Daedalus yelled. “No helmet! You have to have a helmet.” The old man disappeared into the house and returned with a scratched-up football helmet. He strapped it on Darius’s head.

“You have to promise me you’ll always wear a helmet,” Daedalus said.

“I promise,” said Darius.

“And you’ll be very careful.”

“Sure.”

“No riding at night.”

“Right.”

“No riding against the traffic.”

“Okay, okay, Daedalus. I know all that.”

“I mean it!”
said Daedalus, sounding very upset.

“All right,” said Darius. “I promise I’ll be really, really careful.”

He looked up at the old man.

“Now,” said Daedalus, finally satisfied, “you must christen the bicycle. What do you want to name it?”

Darius thought hard. He wanted to find just the right name. A shaft of early morning sunlight struck the bike and seemed to set it aglow. The handlebars sparkled and the shiny blue-green frame gleamed. Darius remembered the story about the god who pulled the sun’s chariot across the sky. Apollo.

“Apollo,” said Darius. “The bike will be Apollo One.”

Daedalus’s face broke into a little smile. “Fine, Apollo it is then. Ready for liftoff. All systems go.” He stepped back.

When Darius stood up and pushed down on the pedal, the bike moved forward into the street, seemingly on its own. The sprockets whirred and clicked. Darius watched the front wheel spin over the pavement. He reached the end of the street in no time, wheeled around, and headed back. He zoomed by Daedalus, rang the bell once, and turned down the street again. The bike rode like a dream. He circled by Daedalus again, picking up speed.

“Yeeeeehaaaaah!” Darius whooped.

“Be careful!” yelled Daedalus.

Darius rode the bike round and round until it was time to leave. He said good-bye to Daedalus and pedaled toward Aunt Inga’s house. His plan was in action—he was going to escape!

Just as he rounded the last corner, he glanced at his watch. It was nine-thirty, half an hour before Aunt Inga would get up. He took one more spin around the block, then pulled into the driveway and hopped off his bike. Humming quietly to himself, he wheeled the bike to the back door and reached for the doorknob.

“Good morning,” a grim voice spoke. Darius jumped. He looked up to see Aunt Inga standing on the other side of the screen door in her bathrobe.

Her mouth was locked in a gruesome smile.

Her hair, sticking out from her head like a nest of angry snakes, was a frightful mess.

She looked like Medusa in a very bad mood.

15
Remember, You Can Fly

A
unt Inga,” Darius said. He forced his lips up into a weak smile. His stomach flipped over and over like a ride at an amusement park. “What are you doing up so early?” he asked as innocently as he could.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Um, just out. Out for a ride,” Darius answered, immediately regretting his choice of words. Aunt Inga was upset, but she hadn’t noticed the bicycle yet.

Now she did.

“Where did you get that bicycle?” she asked.

“This one?” asked Darius.

“No, the bicycle in the tree. Yes, of course I mean
that
one!” Aunt Inga peered at the shiny frame and the new wheels. “Hmmm,” she said. “It looks familiar.”

“Um, yeah,” mumbled Darius.

“Where did you get it?”

Right now you are probably hoping that Darius will say, “I found it in the street!”

Or, “I bought it with my inheritance.”

Or, “TAKE A GUESS! THERE’S A PRIZE IF YOU GUESS RIGHT!”

But he didn’t. Darius was too flustered to tell a lie or make a joke.