Freddie Ramos Takes Off (3 page)

Ever since Mom finished her classes at the community college and got a better job, she's been big on school. I have to show her my papers, and we read chapter books together. I like reading at bedtime, but school didn't take up so much of my life when I didn't have to do my homework every night.

By the time I opened the door to 29G and gave a carrot treat to Claude the Second, it was 5:45. I took off my purple sneakers and put them under my bed. Mom wouldn't notice anything weird about me going around the house in socks. I figured I could tell her about the purple sneakers when she noticed them. Every once in a while, she looks under my bed, so the conversation would come up sooner or later.

Then I hurried to get my backpack open and my books on the table. But it was hard to concentrate on my homework. I kept thinking about running in my purple shoes, flying on the ground like a plane with giant wheels. Zapato Power! My whole life was about to change! And not in any of the ways Mom had promised when we moved into Starwood Park at the beginning of the school year. She had said we were going to spend more time together and my grades were going to get better. That stuff happened. But Mom hadn't predicted this. I had purple shoes that made me faster than a train. Was this my chance to become a hero like my dad?

“How about pizza for dinner?” Mom asked when she got home. “I'm too tired to cook.”

“Pizza's fine with me.” I jumped up and handed Mom the phone. We had the pizza number on speed dial. That was one of the best things about Mom having a better job. Good food for dinner wasn't a problem anymore.

While we waited for the delivery, Mom looked over my math problems and my spelling words.

“Your handwriting looks a lot neater, Freddie. I'm glad to see you're taking your time.”

I was happy to see Mom smiling. She wasn't much of a smiler before we moved to Starwood Park. Her brown eyes always looked worried the way my friend Maria's did when we went to the street fair and rode the Ferris wheel. Maria is afraid of heights, and my mom is afraid of too many bills. She also worried a lot when I was little because Dad was a soldier.

I worried, too. The first time he went away, he came back just fine. The second time, he didn't. But everyone at his funeral called him a hero. That was two years ago.

I finished all my homework before dinner, so Mom and I had time to watch a couple of TV shows together after my bath. It was a pretty regular night. Not what you would expect for a guy that just got purple sneakers with super speed. What else can you do if your mom doesn't let you go out after dark?

At nine o'clock Mom and I got cozy on my bed and read another chapter of this book we got from the library. It's about this really smart kid who is kind of a superhero. He gives himself a cool fake name and uses the internet to keep a bully from bothering him. While we read, I kept thinking about my Zapato Power. Would it make me a superhero? Should I come up with a new name for myself—one that I could use when I did hero things? Mom kept reading, and my mind kept thinking bigger and bigger thoughts. Would I be able to make bullies stop picking on littler kids? Would I catch crooks and save people? And if I started doing stuff like that, would I need to tell my mom?

I almost went to sleep without Mom finding out about the purple sneakers. She had her hand on the light switch when she remembered that I'd called her at work that afternoon.

“What was the box on the doorstep?” she asked.

It was time to confess. I leaned under my bed and pulled out the purple sneakers.

“Nice!” she said. “Did they come from Uncle Jorge?”

“No. I called him and asked.”

Mom picked up the purple sneakers and traced the silver wings with her finger.

“I wonder if they came from one of your dad's friends.”

“In the army?” I asked.

She nodded her head. “I talked to someone from his old unit last week. He asked about you. I remember telling him you were growing fast and wearing out your shoes. ”

“That would have been nice of him to send me a gift. He doesn't know me.”

“But he knew your dad,” Mom said, giving me a kiss goodnight. “Sometimes, that's enough.”

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

The next morning I went to school, ready to be a hero. I wanted to save a kid from a burning building or catch a criminal. Saving a cat would have been okay, too. But it's not that easy to be a hero when you go to elementary school. No one falls out of high windows. We don't even have a second story at Starwood Elementary. No one seems to need hero stuff. They need left-behind lunches and library books.

“My book is still in my desk!” Jason cried, as we turned the corner near the library.

“It's too late to go back for it now,” Mrs. Lane, our teacher, said.

“But I can't get a new one if I don't give one back!” he wailed.

I was standing behind Jason at the end of the line.

This was the third time that day he'd cried. The first time was when he broke his favorite pencil. The second time was when Harold called him a crybaby.

“Why can't I go back?” Jason whined. “I'll be quick.”

Jason wasn't fast about anything, except crying. But I was fast. The problem was getting caught. If a teacher sees you running in the halls, you're sent straight to the office. But could anyone see me running in my purple sneakers? Was I too fast to see? There was only one way to find out. I sped off around the corner.

Just my luck, Mr. Hadley, the assistant principal, was in the hall with Mrs. Connor, the principal. I took a chance and zoomed right past them.

“Did you hear a buzzing sound?” said Mr. Hadley.

“Just for a moment—with a wisp of smoke,” I heard Mrs. Connor say.

I made it to our classroom, grabbed Jason's book, and got back in the library line before Jason finished wiping his eyes.