The Amazing Flight of Darius Frobisher (15 page)

“Don’t you see, Daedalus? She wanted me to fly, too. Do you think she would have said that if she didn’t think about you? Somehow she knew that you would find me!” Darius grabbed the old man by the shoulders. “Come on, let’s fix the red bike. You said you knew what was wrong. We can fly together to Miss Hastings.”

Daedalus shook his head. “What if you fell?”

“You’ll be with me! I’ll be careful. I won’t forget who I am. I trust you, Daedalus. You won’t let me fall. We can do it!”

Daedalus gasped at those words—his eyes filled with tears again. And then a small, mischievous smile appeared on the old man’s face. “It wouldn’t be very responsible of me,” he said slyly.

“You’re saving my life! That’s responsible,” Darius said. “I’ll die at Crapper Academy! Anthony will
really
eat me alive.”

Daedalus glanced away, then back at Darius. The old man grinned. “All right,” he said.

“Thank you!” Darius shouted, jumping up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“But wait! If I fix this bike, if I adjust the sixth gear, you must promise you’ll be very careful.”

“Okay,” said Darius.

“Promise me. Say it.”

“I promise.”

“You have to wear a helmet!”

“Of course!”

“All right. I’ll try to get it ready tonight. You come here early tomorrow morning, and we’ll go find Miss Hastings. Then we’ll see what we can do together.”

“I love you, Daedalus,” Darius said. He threw his arms around him.

The old man coughed and sputtered, “All right, all right. That’s enough. Get back to your aunt’s. I’ll work on the bike. I just hope I’m right about the calculations.”

“I’m sure you are. See you tomorrow!” Darius dashed up the stairs and out the door. Determined to reach the house before Aunt Inga realized he was gone, he raced through the streets. He didn’t have a bike, but he hoped he would soon.

If Darius had looked back, he would have seen the shiny blue-green bike, still trailing him.

16
One Last Chance

W
hen Darius made it back to the house, Aunt Inga was just finishing her magazine sales calls. During dinner, not a word was said about the bicycle or about Crapper Academy. In fact, not a word was said at all. Darius almost dared to hope that Aunt Inga had forgotten her plans to send him away.

Early the next morning, while it was still dark, Darius slipped out of bed and tiptoed up the basement stairs. When he opened the door to the hallway, the light switched on suddenly, and there, towering over him, was Aunt Inga.

“Going somewhere?” she asked.

Darius felt the world come crashing down on him again.

“No,” he sighed, “just to the bathroom.”

“Hah!” Her laugh rattled in her throat. “I doubt that. You were going to sneak out again. Well, not this time, bucko. I’ve been up all night, waiting and listening.”

“Why were you doing that?”

“I know about you and Mr. Daedalus What’s-his-name. I know all about it.”

“Daedalus?” Darius gasped. “You know about Daedalus? How?”

“Because Anthony told me that he followed you yesterday afternoon when you went over there. He saw you go in the house, and he stayed until you came out. I know what’s going on—you can’t trick me anymore.” Aunt Inga grabbed Darius by the arm and led him down the hall. “Go to the bathroom, but then you’re going right back down to the basement to pack your bags. You’ll stay there until the colonel comes to take you to the Crapper, where you belong.”

“But—”

“No buts this time, mister. Nosiree Bob—it’s the end of the road for you.”

And it looked like it was.

When Darius came back upstairs, Aunt Inga was waiting for him at the door. She didn’t take her eyes off him for a moment. She made him put his bags by the front door, ready to go when the colonel arrived. The entire time, Darius kept thinking, searching, trying to discover a way out of his predicament.

Darius thought of Daedalus and the marvelous bike waiting for him; escape and freedom seemed so close. But a flying bicycle did no good if he couldn’t get near it.

It looked as if he was really going to Crapper Academy.

Shortly before noon, Anthony and Mrs. Gritbun showed up at the house with all of Anthony’s belongings for school. While the two women talked to one another, Anthony taunted Darius.

“I’m taking my
new
bicycle to school. It’s right outside. Would you like to see it?”

Darius tried to ignore him, but Anthony wouldn’t shut up.

“A couple more hours, we’ll get to school, and you’ll be all mine. I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

Darius knew it would make Anthony madder, but he couldn’t
help talking back. “You’ll see,” he said. “I’ll never go to that stupid school. Or give in to someone as mean and stupid as you.”

Anthony grabbed Darius around the neck and gave him a sharp rap on the top of his head with his knuckles.

“Ouch!” yelled Darius. “Stop it!”

“Don’t let him out of your sight,” called out Aunt Inga. “He doesn’t know what’s good for him.”

And that is how things stood when Darius heard a car door slam out front. He broke loose from Anthony’s grasp and looked out the window.

Colonel Crimper from Crapper Academy was getting out of a big black sedan. Darius gulped. The colonel marched up the walk, looking even bigger and meaner than before.

A loud knock announced the headmaster’s arrival. Aunt Inga seized Darius by the arm and led him to the front door. Anthony followed behind them. Aunt Inga opened the door, still fiercely holding on to Darius with her other hand.

At this moment you may be wishing that a superhero would appear.

Or a wizard.

Or an enormous carnivorous caterpillar, sixty feet long, that inhaled horrid people.

Nope. Just humans in this story. Some pleasant ones. Some unpleasant ones. It’s too late to bring in other creatures now.

Especially carnivorous caterpillars.

Darius was stuck.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” said Colonel Crimper. “I’ve come for your nephew.”

“You’re most welcome to him. He’s all packed. You can have him now.”

And then Gertrude Gritbun spoke up. “Why don’t we all go outside for a picture with the colonel? So we can have a reminder of our children going off to school.”

“Oh yes,” said Aunt Inga, nervously patting her hair into place. “But first,” she whispered to Mrs. Gritbun, “let me … um … slip on something a little nicer. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to think about myself. It’ll just take a minute.” Turning to Anthony, she added, “Anthony, dearest, keep your eye on Darius for me.”

“Gladly,” snickered Anthony.

Aunt Inga let go of her nephew and disappeared into her bedroom.

“Don’t move, worm,” Anthony breathed in Darius’s ear.

Mrs. Gritbun and the colonel stepped outside to look for a place to take the picture.

Darius’s mind was working at full speed. Now was his chance. Now or never. He knew what he had to do.

“Hey, Anthony,” he said. “Let’s watch some television.”

“Okay. Not a bad idea for a jerk,” said Anthony, plopping down into Aunt Inga’s comfortable chair.

Darius picked up the remote and clicked the set on. Someone had just won a lifetime supply of frozen onion rings on a game show. People in crazy costumes were screaming and clapping their hands together. Darius turned up the volume a notch.

His idea worked like a dream. In an instant Anthony was hypnotized by the television. He sat there, transfixed. Darius quietly tiptoed into the kitchen and slipped silently out the back door.

Darius tore through the neighbors’ backyards and emerged on the sidewalk several houses up. He hid behind a shrub and
looked back. Mrs. Gritbun and the colonel were standing by the big black car.

And then he took off toward Daedalus’s house.

He ran like the wind.

When a commercial came on, Anthony woke up. He looked around and saw that Darius was missing.

“That stupid twerp got away! He tricked me! I’ll kill him!” he ranted.

Aunt Inga came out of her bedroom half dressed, hopping on a slippered foot while she tried to put a shoe on the other. Her hair shot out of her head at odd angles.

“What?” she bellowed. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He was here just a second ago. Maybe he’s in the bathroom.”

“No, he’s not in the bathroom!” Aunt Inga screamed. “He got away. We have to catch him.”

“I’ll pound him to dust!” roared Anthony.

“I bet he went to that old guy’s house, old Daedalus Hoozydunk,” said Aunt Inga.

“And I know where he lives!” yelled Anthony.

“Then let’s go!” sputtered Aunt Inga, hurriedly buttoning her dress.

The two of them collided in the doorway, then Aunt Inga shoved Anthony out of her way. She bustled down the walk with Anthony right behind her and quickly explained to Mrs. Gritbun and the colonel what had happened. They all piled into the big black car and took off.

When Darius reached Daedalus’s house, his heart was hammering in his chest and he had to gulp for breath.

The first thing he saw was Daedalus’s flying bike leaning against the porch. Extra wheels, fenders, sprockets, and handlebars sprouted from it at all angles like exotic rainforest plants.

Standing beside it was a smaller bike Darius barely recognized. It had to be his father’s bike—the one he had seen under the basement stairs. Daedalus had repaired the wheel and polished the chrome to a silvery glow. He had replaced the worn seat with a shiny new black leather one and attached clean fins and wings to the frame. The body of the bike, sporting a fresh coat of red paint, sparkled in the morning sun.

“My bike,” Darius said to himself as he ran his hand through the streamers dangling from the handle grips. A football helmet the same color red as the bicycle hung by its strap over one side of the handlebars. On the gear shifter Daedalus had posted a small sign:

Darius could barely keep from jumping on the bike and riding away. Where was Daedalus anyway? Their time was running out. He ran up the porch steps and pounded on the door. No one answered.

“Daedalus! Open up! It’s me! We have to go!” Darius opened the door and called out again, “Daedalus! Where are you?”

The house was silent. Darius went to the basement stairs and yelled for Daedalus. Still no answer.

Darius returned to the kitchen and stood by the table, wondering what to do.

And then he smelled it. Memories came flooding back. He couldn’t believe it.

It was the distinct smell of burnt toast.

He looked at the toaster. Sticking out of it was a piece of bread, charred a dark, dark brown.

“Miss Hastings is here!” he shouted. “Miss Hastings! Miss Hastings!” he called, walking through the house again. He ran down the stairs to the basement workspace. There was no one there. Darius started up the stairs, but something made him stop. He looked back at the wall above the workbench; the picture of the boy on the bike with the balloons on each fender caught his eye. He scampered back down the steps and pulled the picture down. He peered closely at it, then turned it over.

On the back were these words:

To Mr. Daedalus
,

Thanks
.

Love, Rudy—Your Flyboy

Darius flipped the picture back over.
Flyboy
. That’s what his father always called him. He put the picture on the workbench and ran upstairs. He tried to fight off a feeling of panic. Had Daedalus and Miss Hastings gone off without him?

17
Flyboy