52 - How I Learned to Fly Read online

  HOW I LEARNED

  TO FLY

  Goosebumps - 52

  R.L. Stine

  (An Undead Scan v1.5)

  1

  The day I learned how to fly, I was worried about Wilson Schlamme.

  I spend a lot of time worrying about Wilson. I’ve always had trouble with that guy.

  Do you know why?

  He thinks he’s better than me—and I know he isn’t.

  I’m Jack Johnson. And I’m not the kind of kid who likes to enter contests. Really. I don’t like to compete.

  I always let my dad win at chess. Just because it means so much to him to win. And I even let my dog Morty win our wrestling matches on the living room floor.

  But Wilson never gives me a break. He always has to prove that he’s the best at everything.

  If I’m chewing bubble gum, he tries to blow bigger bubbles. When my bubble is twice as big as Wilson’s, he says that his is rounder!

  If my bubble is bigger—and rounder—he sticks his finger in mine and pops it all over my face.

  He’s trouble, that guy. Real trouble.

  Especially when Mia Montez is around.

  Mia is the cutest girl at Malibu Middle School. Ask anybody. Everything about Mia is cute.

  She has big green eyes and a perfect, little nose. I think Mia’s nose is the first thing I noticed about her. I really admired that nose. I guess that’s because my nose is kind of big.

  And Mia has the prettiest hair. Short, straight black hair. Really shiny. My hair is dark—like Mia’s—but it’s curly. Way too curly.

  Know what Mia is totally crazy about? Hearts. It sort of makes sense. She was born on Valentine’s Day.

  She wears a heart necklace every day to school. And a charm bracelet with lots of silver and gold hearts dangling from it.

  On her right hand, she wears a ruby red heart ring. And she has earrings that match. She looks so cute in all those hearts.

  Anyway, when Mia is around, that’s when Wilson is at his worst! He has to show off in front of her. And he has to prove that he’s better than me.

  Wilson likes to compete. Wilson likes to win.

  So what choice do I have? I have to show Wilson that he’s wrong. I have to prove that I’m as good as he is. I don’t want Mia to think I’m a loser.

  * * *

  “Jack, can I borrow your eraser?” My friend Ethan Polke tapped me on the shoulder. Ethan sits behind me during free period in school. He never has erasers. He’s always losing them.

  “Sure.” I turned around and handed him the new one I bought yesterday. Because he lost my old one the day before.

  I hardly use my eraser anyway. At least not when I’m drawing superheroes.

  I love to draw superheroes. And I’m really good at it. I never have to fix a single line.

  “Hey—that’s awesome!” Ethan pointed over my shoulder to my sketch of The Incredible Laser Man.

  The Incredible Laser Man is my newest superhero. I draw superheroes every day. In the morning before I go to school. During free period. And at night after I finish my homework. And then, when I go to bed, I dream about them.

  One day I’m going to be a comic book artist. I have a folder at home packed with my superhero drawings. The Fearless Falcon. Shadow Boy. The Masked Mantis. They’re all going to be famous one day. I know it.

  I studied my sketch of The Incredible Laser Man. He wore a really cool jumpsuit. His huge muscles bulged against the tight material.

  A powerful lightning bolt streaked across his massive chest. Two more lightning bolts zigzagged down his muscular legs.

  I drew a pair of mysterious black goggles to hide his eyes—so no one would know his true identity. I didn’t know it either, yet.

  First I draw the character—then I make up the story.

  The Incredible Laser Man held his mighty arms up to the sky. I started to draw laser beams shooting from his fingertips. The bell rang just as I finished.

  I jumped up from my seat. I couldn’t wait to show The Incredible Laser Man to Mia. She was going to love it!

  “Hey, Mia!” I held my drawing out to her. “Want to see my—”

  “Out of my way, Jackie.” I turned and saw Wilson. He was carrying a drawing too. He shoved me hard from behind.

  I fell over Mia’s desk. My drawing flew from my hand and fluttered to the floor.

  “Thank you, Wilson!” Mia held Wilson’s drawing in her hand. She flashed him a big smile. “Look at this, Jack. Look what Wilson drew.”

  I glanced over Mia’s shoulder. Wilson had drawn a team of superheroes. FIVE of them. Colored in.

  In sparkly letters at the top he had written: MIA’S PROTECTORS.

  Yuck.

  “Look what Jackie drew!” Wilson cried. He snatched my drawing from the floor.

  “Wilson, don’t call me Jackie!” I declared. “I told you a million times, I really hate being called that.”

  “Sorry. I forgot.” Wilson smirked. “I won’t do it again—Jackie.”

  I glared at Wilson. “Give me back my drawing!” I snapped. I reached out for it. But Wilson was too fast for me. He shoved it in front of Mia’s face.

  “It’s The Incredible Lazy Man!” he hooted.

  Mia giggled at his dumb joke.

  I wanted to disappear.

  “It’s very cute, Jack,” Mia said, handing it back to me. Then she and Wilson slipped on their backpacks and headed outside.

  Okay—so Mia liked Wilson’s drawing better. No big deal, I told myself. I stuffed my drawing into my backpack.

  Just wait until we get outside.

  Just wait until Mia sees my new twenty-one-speed Silver Streak racing bike.

  She’s going to love it!

  I ran outside—just in time to see Mia circling my new bike. “Cool!” she said, trying to catch her reflection in the handlebars. “Maybe I’ll ask Mom and Dad for a bike like this for my birthday.”

  I knew Mia would be impressed.

  “You don’t want that for your birthday,” Wilson snickered. “You want this!”

  Wilson pointed to his new bike.

  His new heavy-duty dirt bike.

  “Oh, wow!” Mia exclaimed. “WOW!”

  My stomach twisted into a knot.

  “I don’t like those skinny racing bikes,” Wilson sneered, shaking his head at my bike. “Too flimsy. I like a REAL bike.”

  I was so steamed! I wanted to take his big dirt bike and ride it back and forth over Wilson’s head.

  My new bike was awesome. It wasn’t flimsy at all.

  Why did everything have to be a contest? And why did Wilson always win?

  Little did I know as the three of us rode home that the contest was only beginning!

  2

  “I win!” Wilson shouted, jumping off his bike. He leaned it against the tree in front of my house. He pumped his fists in the air. “The Silver Snail comes in second!” he announced as I rode up, drenched in sweat.

  “Great race, guys,” Mia said, pedaling up to us.

  I wanted to ride home from school next to Mia. But Wilson wanted to race—and Mia thought it was a cool idea.

  The hills of Malibu are awesome for racing. They wind around and around. I love to climb those hills on my bike, then go speeding down. And I’m really great at taking some of the sharp turns.

  I gripped the handlebars of my bike.

  I was confident.

  I had twenty-one speeds.

  We raced.

  Wilson won.

  I leaned my bike next to Wilson’s, trying to catch my breath. Morty, my rust-colored cocker spaniel, trotted out from the backyard to greet us.

  “Hey, Morty!” The hearts on Mia’s
bracelet clinked softly as she scratched Morty’s neck. Morty likes Mia as much as I do. His tail wagged like crazy. He jumped up to lick her face. Then he started on me.

  “Whoa. Here comes Wilson’s dog.” Mia pointed across the street to Wilson’s house. Wilson’s enormous Labrador charged full speed toward us.

  “Down, boy.” Wilson laughed as his dog leaped up on him. He nearly knocked Wilson over.

  “Terminator is TWICE as big as Morty,” Wilson bragged to Mia.

  “But Morty is smarter,” I boasted. “We taught Morty to carry his food dish to the sink when he’s finished eating.”

  “That’s pretty smart,” Mia agreed.

  “You call that smart?” Wilson sneered. “We taught Terminator to answer the phone when we’re not home.”

  “That’s definitely smarter,” Mia said. “That is really, really smart.”

  “That’s not so smart,” I argued. “Morty can roll over and—”

  “Oh, noooo!”

  We all heard a cry.

  Mrs. Green, my next-door neighbor, poked her head out of her front door and screamed. She stared in horror at the tree across the street. The tree in front of Wilson’s house.

  There was Olive—Mrs. Green’s new kitten—sitting on the edge of a high tree limb. Her fur stood on end. Her little body shook. She let out a soft whimper.

  “Oh, poor Olive!” Mia cried. “She’s going to fall! Someone has to save her!”

  “I will!” Wilson and I shouted together.

  Oh, no, you won’t, Wilson! I thought. You’re not going to win this time.

  With a burst of speed, I raced across the street. My sneakers pounded the sidewalk. I reached the tree first!

  “Give me a boost,” I ordered Wilson. Before he could argue, I wrapped my arms around the tree trunk and raised my foot. Wilson gave me a boost.

  I inched my way up the trunk. I gazed out—over the hilltops. My eyes followed their winding path down, down, down. Right down to the beach. The beach stretched along the coast for miles.

  I glanced down and smiled at Mia.

  “Hurry, Jack!” she cried nervously.

  “Don’t worry, Mia,” I declared. “I’m on my way!”

  Yes! I am on my way to save Olive. And you’re not, Wilson.

  I climbed higher and higher—until I reached the limb where Olive sat. Her whole body shivered with fright. She let out a terrified squeak when she spotted me.

  I studied the tree limb. It was very slender.

  I didn’t know if it would hold my weight.

  “What are you waiting for, Jackie?” Wilson shook the tree trunk. “I’ll come up and get her if you’re afraid.”

  Ha! No way, Wilson!

  I crawled out on the limb. Very slowly.

  Olive whimpered.

  I stopped.

  I crawled out some more.

  Olive inched away from me.

  I stopped again.

  Olive stared into my eyes. Then she lifted her front paws—to jump!

  Down below, I could hear Mrs. Green and Mia gasp.

  “No, Olive,” I begged softly. “Stay.”

  I moved a little closer—close enough to grab her now.

  I slowly reached out to her.

  My fingertips brushed against her soft fur.

  Then my knee slipped off the branch. I lost my balance. I lurched to the left.

  “Noooo!”

  I let out a shrill cry as I dropped from the tree.

  3

  I shot my arms up. I groped frantically for the tree limb.

  And missed.

  My stomach flopped as I plunged down. Down.

  I closed my eyes tight, ready to smack down on the hard ground.

  “Huh?”

  Something soft broke my fall.

  “Gotcha, Jackie.”

  Wilson caught me in his arms.

  He held me like a baby. Great. Just great…

  I heard clapping. Mia clapping.

  Then Wilson dropped me on the pavement.

  “Owwww!” My head hit the cement with a thud.

  “Are you okay?” Mia’s voice sounded far away.

  “Yes, I’m—” I started to answer, struggling to sit up. That’s when I saw that Mia wasn’t paying any attention to me.

  She was bent over Wilson, studying a swollen finger he held out to her.

  “I’m okay,” Wilson assured her. “Jack doesn’t weigh much.”

  “Nooooo!” Mrs. Green shrieked. “Olive—nooooo!”

  Olive dangled from the tree limb by one little paw!

  Wilson scrambled up the tree and crawled across the limb. The tree groaned and creaked under his stocky legs. But Wilson didn’t care.

  He looked so sure of himself as he crossed the sagging branch. He scooped up Olive in one hand. Then he shimmied down the tree trunk.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” Mrs. Green threw her arms around Wilson’s wide shoulders and hugged him.

  My narrow shoulders drooped. I felt miserable.

  With Olive cradled safely in her arms, Mrs. Green returned to her house.

  I watched her walk across her lawn. My gaze shifted to my yard—where Morty and Terminator wrestled in the grass. Terminator batted Morty with his huge paw. He sent Morty into orbit over the hedges.

  Terminator charged across the lawn, jumped over the shrubs, and reached Morty before my poor dog landed. Terminator knocked him out of the air and pounced on him.

  Morty yelped helplessly as Terminator pinned him to the ground.

  “Terminator, stop!” I shouted, heading over to them.

  “Leave them alone. They’re just playing!” Wilson called.

  But I trudged across the lawn to rescue Morty.

  “Even Wilson’s dog wins all the time,” I grumbled. “Morty and I are losers. Total losers.”

  “Hey, guys, I’ve got to go home!” Mia jumped on her bike. “Don’t forget about my birthday party on Saturday!”

  “I’ll be there!” Wilson told her. “And I’m going to bring Terminator. He has a surprise for you.”

  I groaned.

  “Are you coming to my party, Jack?” Mia smiled brightly at me.

  “Well—maybe…” I tried to come up with a fast excuse.

  I hate parties.

  Don’t get me wrong. I like to see my friends—but not at parties. I never really have fun at them—especially if there are party games. I hate to play party games. Especially if Wilson is there.

  “I… uh… may have to go somewhere with my parents,” I lied. “I think I promised I’d go with them. And then I promised my dad I’d help clean out the basement.”

  “You did that last week,” Wilson declared. “Remember—I had to help you drag out the trash can. It was too heavy for you.”

  “Well, we didn’t finish,” I said, thinking quickly. I’m such a terrible liar.

  Mia grasped the gold heart around her neck. “You have to come, Jack. The party doesn’t start till six. I really want you to come.”

  “Well… I’ll try,” I told her.

  “Great, Jack. See you!” Mia hopped on her bike and pedaled up the hill toward her house.

  Should I go? I asked myself, heading up my driveway.

  Mia said she really wants me to come.

  So should I forget how much I hate parties—and go?

  Yes, I decided.

  Yes. Maybe I’ll actually have fun.

  Yes!

  So… on Saturday night, I went to Mia’s party.

  And wouldn’t you know it—it ruined my life forever!

  4

  Mia’s house is two blocks up the hill from mine. Her house juts out on stilts. It’s kind of dangerous—especially when we have mud slides. But she has an amazing view of the ocean down below.

  I stepped up to Mia’s front door. I felt really nervous.

  For one thing, I’d never met Mia’s new stepmother. Mia spends half the year with her real mother in Brentwood. And the other half here in Malibu with her da
d and new stepmother.

  “Come on in! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Angela Montez,” Mia’s stepmother greeted me at the door. “Everyone’s been waiting for you!”

  “Really?” I asked. “For me?”

  “Really!” Mrs. Montez exclaimed.

  Mia’s stepmom had the most beautiful smile. I liked her right away.

  I followed her to the rec room doorway. She waved to Mia across the room. “Mia—look who’s finally here,” she called. “Wilson!”

  “Angela—that’s not Wilson. That’s Jack!” Mia called back.

  “Oh. Sorry, Jack.” Mrs. Montez patted me on the shoulder. “Well, have a nice time anyway.”

  Mia grabbed my arm and tugged me forward. The room was jammed with kids. We pushed our way through the crowd.

  Red streamers hung from the ceiling. Red is Mia’s favorite color. I spotted my friends Ray and Ethan in the crowd. They were opening plastic bags filled with red balloons.

  “Hey—Jack. Help us blow these things up,” Ray called.

  “Okay. Be right there.” I liked Ethan and Ray. They were great guys. Fun to hang out with.

  I handed Mia her birthday present. I wanted to give her something she would really, really like. I had walked around the mall for hours searching for just the right thing.

  “Thanks, Jack. I can’t wait to open it!” Mia said, gazing at the red stars on the wrapping paper. “Look! The paper matches my outfit!” Mia pointed to the red stars on her white T-shirt and leggings.

  Mia liked the wrapping paper. That made me feel pretty good.

  Ray and Ethan tossed over some balloons—the long kind—and we started blowing them up.

  After we blew up about fifty of them, we batted them through the air. One after another. Real fast. A storm of red balloons whirled over our heads.

  The kids went wild. Leaping up. Batting them back.

  “Over here, Jack!” they screamed. “Hit some over here!”

  It was cool.

  Then Wilson walked in.

  “Hey, everyone. Watch this!” He snatched two balloons in flight. He twisted them so fast, his hands moved in a blur. “Ta-da!” He held his creation over his head for everyone to see.

  It was the figure of a man—with huge ears, stubby legs, and a fat belly. It looked exactly like our gym teacher, Mr. Grossman.