Freddie Ramos Takes Off

With gratitude to my Tuesday Night
Writing Group—without you, I'd be lost. —JJ

For Mum, Dad, and Kelly. —MB

 

 

 

CONTENTS

1.  A Box Changes My Life

2.  I Race the Train

3.  The Mysteries Begin

4.  A Pretty Regular Night for a Superhero

5.  It's Not Easy to Be A Superhero at School

6.  Poopee Isn't Good for Starwood Park

7.  Puppy Is Missing!

8.  I Solve the Final Mystery

1. A Box Changes My Life

A box changed my life. It was sitting outside Apartment 29G when I came home from Starwood Elementary.

My name,
FREDDIE RAMOS
, was written on it in big black letters. I'd never gotten a package like this.

“What did you get?” a deep voice asked.

I looked up to see Mr. Vaslov. He had a paintbrush in his hand. Mr. Vaslov takes care of Starwood Park Apartments, and he is always fixing something.

“I don't know yet,” I said. “I can't open the box. It's taped up like a mummy.”

“I'll look in my toolshed,” Mr. Vaslov said. “I've got scissors there.”

I followed him with my mummy box.

“Be careful,” he said, as we walked. “The paint is still wet.”

The toolshed looked bright, white, and all brand new. The last place Mom and I lived didn't have someone like Mr. Vaslov always trying to make things look nice. When big kids wrote bad words on the walls, the words stayed there a long time.

“Where did I put my scissors?” Mr. Vaslov said.

While Mr. Vaslov searched, I peeked in. I'd never seen inside the toolshed. There were tables and shelves full of wires, cables, batteries, and electronic stuff.

“Did you take apart a billion computers?” I asked.

“No,” Mr. Vaslov laughed. “Only fifty.”

Just as I was about to ask him why he was cutting up computers, Mr. Vaslov found his scissors.

We opened the box. First we saw lots of white packing popcorn.

Then we saw a sheet of purple paper. It had five words printed on it.

“‘Zapato Power.'” Mr. Vaslov pushed his bushy gray hair away from his face. “That sounds interesting.”

“Yeah.” I turned the purple paper over. “Except I'm not sure what it means.”

“Zapato?” Mr. Vaslov asked.

“Doesn't that mean shoe in Spanish?”

“It sure does. But what kind of power is shoe power?”

I dug my hands back into the white packing. This time, I pulled out two purple sneakers with silver wings on the side.

“Exactly what I need! Uncle Jorge is the best!”

I figured it was Uncle Jorge in New York. No one else mailed me presents. I put down the sneakers and looked for a signed card in the packing popcorn.

“That's strange,” I said. “Uncle Jorge always sends funny cards with his gifts.”

Some of the popcorn spilled on the floor while I searched the box, but Mr. Vaslov didn't complain. Instead, he leaned down to pick up the purple sneakers.

“Nice!” he said. “A lot better than what you're wearing.”