[Goosebumps 52] - How I Learned to Fly Page 2

  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.

  “Hey! It’s The Gross Man!” one of the kids yelled out.

  Everyone laughed.

  “Awesome, Wilson!” Mia’s friend Kara shouted.

  “Isn’t Wilson a riot?” Mia said to me. “He can do anything.”

  “Yeah,” I said, slinking back into the corner of the room. “He’s a real riot.”

  “Make something else!” Mia clapped.

  Wilson grabbed some balloons and made a pig with antlers.

  And a tiny elephant with a four-foot trunk.

  And an enormous chicken.

  Everyone went crazy over that chicken.

  I was almost glad when Mia announced it was time to play Twister. Almost.

  I hate Twister. I told you—I hate all party games.

  Everyone cleared the center of the room so Mia could set the game out.

  I shrank farther back into my corner. I eased myself down to the floor. I did it slowly so no one would notice me.

  “Jackie!” Wilson dove over the playing mat and yanked me up. “It’s time to see if you can beat the champ!”

  Wilson is great at Twister. Of course.

  “Uh, Wilson. I don’t really feel like playing.” I wrestled free of his grip. “I’ll spin the spinner so everyone else can play.”

  “Not necessary, Jack.” Wilson’s mouth spread into the widest grin I’d ever seen.

  I knew that grin meant trouble.

  He placed his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Terminator bounded into the room.

  “Spin, boy!” Wilson ordered the dog.

  Terminator trotted over to the spinner on the floor. He gave it a hard nudge with his nose—and it spun.

  Everyone cheered.

  “Let’s see him read it!” I mumbled under my breath.

  Mia heard me. “Wilson will probably teach him that next week!” She laughed.

  “Right hand red!” someone called out.

  Everyone dove for the mat.

  Wilson got there first. Of course.

  Terminator spun.

  “Left foot blue.” Mia announced the next move.

  Only two moves and we were all a tangled mess. Wilson’s position was secure. He’s fast. He always finds the easiest spot to land on first.

  I’m not that fast.

  I had to stretch my left leg way back—over Ray’s head—to reach a blue dot.

  I felt a sharp pain in my side.

  Please, don’t let me fall, I prayed. I don’t want to be the first one out. If I am—Wilson will never let me forget it.

  My palms began to sweat.

  Three kids had their legs draped over my right arm. I felt my hand slipping off the red dot.

  My elbow sagged.

  I tried to stiffen it, but it wouldn’t stay. It slowly sagged some more.

  Wilson craned his neck to see me. “Jack’s elbow is touching!” he yelled.

  “No, it isn’t!” Ethan came to my defense. “Spin, Terminator!”

  Terminator spun.

  Right foot yellow.

  Yellow. Yellow. I searched frantically for a yellow circle. I spotted one.

  I hoisted my leg up and over Ray’s back.

  And that’s when I heard the riiiip.

  My shorts split wide open.

  I froze.

  “Superman boxers underneath! Cooool!” Wilson hooted.

  Everyone laughed.

  I glanced over at Mia. She had her head tossed back, laughing like a maniac.

  My face burned red.

  I jumped up from the game—and staggered from the room.

  “Wait, Jack!” Mia chased after me. “Don’t go!”

  No way I was going to stay.

  No way.

  I felt totally humiliated.

  Mia caught up to me and blocked the door. “Please?” she asked softly. “Please stay?”

  Could I say no?

  Of course not.

  Mrs. Montez gave me a pair of Mia’s brother’s shorts to wear, and I returned to the rec room.

  Everyone was seated at a long table, eating hot dogs. I had to take the only chair left—next to Wilson.

  I lifted up my hot dog. I opened my mouth to take a bite.

  “Whoa. Wait a minute!” Wilson pushed my hand away from my mouth. “You call that a hot dog?”

  He held his hot dog next to mine. He had a foot-long hot dog. TWICE as big as my regular one.

  He threw back his head and howled. Then he gulped down his hot dog in two bites.

  He grinned that big, horrible, Wilson grin.

  He was driving me CRAZY.

  A gross glob of mustard stuck to the corner of his mouth. I wanted to wipe it across his face.

  Should I do it? I asked myself. Should I give him a mustard bath?

  Before I could move, Mia announced it was time to open the presents. Wilson jumped up and headed into the living room—where the presents sat, piled high. Everyone followed.

  Mia opened Kara’s present first—a bunch of hair scrunchies with red hearts. Then she opened Ray and Ethan’s present. A butterfly jigsaw puzzle—with over a thousand pieces.

  Mia reached for my present next.

  I held my breath.

  She carefully untied the red ribbon. Then she ripped the paper open—and gasped.

  “Ohhh, Jack!” she exclaimed. “How did you know I wanted this one?” She held up my present for everyone to see. “It’s the new CD from my favorite group—Purple Rose.”

  I knew she would love it.

  “Thank you, Jack!” She set my present down on a table beside her. She reached for the next one. An envelope—just an envelope. No gift.

  “That’s mine,” Wilson leaned over and whispered to me.

  I can’t believe Wilson only brought Mia a card, I thought as I watched her tear open the flap. Only a card for her birthday. What kind of present is that?

  Mia stared into the envelope for a moment. Then she screamed. “Oh, wow! Oh, wow! Oh, wow!”

  She held up Wilson’s present.

  Two tickets.

  Two tickets to the Purple Rose concert at the Hollywood Bowl next month.

  Front row seats.

  “Oh, wow!” she shrieked again. “This is totally awesome!”

  Wilson shot me his big Wilson grin.

  I couldn’t take it any longer. I let out a furious scream—and ran out of the house.

  5

  I ran down the path from Mia’s house as fast as I could.

  Ran down the dark road. A single street lamp cast a weak glow over the houses. Trees and shrubs poked over the path as if reaching for me.

  I didn’t know where I was going—and I didn’t care. I just had to get away from the party.

  “Stop, Jack! Come back!” I heard Mia call.

  I glanced back and saw Mia charging after me. Ray, Ethan, and Kara were chasing me too.

  I didn’t slow down. I followed the winding path down the hill. I ran right past my house and kept on running.

  “Jack! Come back!” Mia shouted.

  I shot another glance over my shoulder. They were catching up.

  I ran harder. Past some darkened houses that were set back in the hill, hidden behind trees.

  I picked up speed as the road continued to curve downward. Practically flying down now. My toes jammed against the front of my sneakers as I ran. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.

  I ran until the road leveled out at the bottom of the hill—where a fence stretched out for miles, separating the beach from the road.

  I darted across the road and charged through the fence.

  “Jack! Jack!” My friends’voices drifted down the hillside, over the steady roar of the ocean in front of me.

  I peered up and down the stretch of beach. Staring at house after house. They sprawled out on the high part of the beachfront, with steps that led down to the sand. L
ights from the houses washed over the sand, making the beach bright and silvery.

  No place to hide.

  No place…

  Suddenly, an idea flashed into my mind.

  The abandoned Dorsey house. I could hide there. The Dorsey house used to be one of the most beautiful beach houses in Malibu. But no one had lived in it in years. Just a big, old wreck now. A great place to hide!

  “Jack! Where are you?” Mia’s voice floated over the fence.

  Better hurry. Before they catch up.

  I ran down the beach, past houses with swimming pools and tennis courts. I ran and ran—and finally, I came to the Dorsey house.

  I stopped and stared at it. What a wreck!

  The wide, two-story house once had a long awning that stretched all along the deck. But the awning had fallen from its poles. The torn canvas lay heaped on the deck, flapping in the ocean breeze.

  I stepped carefully. Several boards were missing from the deck. Others were cracked and broken.

  I leaped over a hole and made my way to the door. I turned the knob.

  The wooden door had swollen from the constant wetness. I had to ram my shoulder against it to get it to open. I ducked inside.

  “Jack! Where are you?” Ray’s voice rang out from the side of the house.

  I quietly closed the door behind me.

  An aroma of rotting wood and sour mold greeted me. I squinted in the darkness, trying to figure out what room I was in.

  I stood in an entranceway. Beyond it, in front of me, was a living room. Two chairs with ripped seat cushions stood against one wall. The back wall of the room was completely made of glass. Outside I could see the dark ocean waves crashing against the shore.

  To the left was a kitchen. To the right, a long hall. That’s where the bedrooms probably are, I thought, as I made my way slowly toward them, leaning one hand on the damp wall.

  “Jaaack. Jaaack.” My friends’shouts drifted through the closed windows. But they were fading now. Distant.

  I walked into a bedroom. Empty—except for a bare mattress on the floor that the Dorseys had left behind.

  Back in the hall, I groped the walls. Trying to find my way in the dark.

  I stumbled forward—and tripped. Over something big. It landed on the floor with a loud CRASH!

  I jumped back in fear. Then leaned over to see what it was. Just an old surfboard, I realized. I let out a long sigh.

  I moved back into the entranceway. Into the kitchen. The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet.

  A shaft of moonlight filtered in through the grimy windows. Some broken mugs lay on one of the counters. A child’s sand pail and shovel rested in a corner on the floor.

  I stood in the shaft of moonlight.

  I could hear the ocean waves pound against the shore.

  The wind began to howl outside. It whipped through the weathered boards of the old house. The wood creaked and groaned.

  I peered out the kitchen window and saw the clump of fallen awning shivering in the wind, like a ghost getting ready to rise.

  Something scampered across my feet.

  I let out a startled cry.

  A mouse? A rat?

  Something bigger?

  My entire body shuddered.

  This place was really creepy at night.

  It’s safe to leave now, I told myself. No more voices. They’re gone. They’re probably all back at Mia’s—eating birthday cake.

  I bet Wilson is on his third piece, I thought with disgust.

  I couldn’t wait to get home—to my nice, dry house.

  I walked slowly through the darkened kitchen, across the sagging floor. The planks groaned with each step I took.

  The door came into view.

  I was almost there. Almost out of this cold, creepy house.

  I took another step—and the floor broke away.

  The wooden planks crashed someplace below—as I plunged down into the gaping hole.

  My hands grabbed onto a jagged piece of floorboard. My legs dangled beneath me.

  “Help!” I screamed.

  But no one could hear me.

  I tried to pull myself up. Up out of the hole. The wooden planks under my hands creaked as I struggled to hoist myself up. And then the planks splintered. And broke. I dropped through the hole fast. Down. Straight down.

  6

  Into an underground pit?

  No.

  Into the basement.

  I landed hard on my hands and knees.

  Pain shot through my body. Then quickly faded.

  Luckily, the floor was soft and spongy from all the dampness, so I wasn’t really hurt.

  I took a deep breath—and choked on the bitter smell of mildew. Yuck! I could even taste it on my tongue.

  This was all Wilson’s fault!

  Wilson—always proving that he’s the best.

  Never giving me a break.

  Okay, okay. Forget about Wilson, I told myself. Calm down. You have to find a way out of this disgusting basement.

  I stood up and searched for stairs, a door, a window. But I couldn’t see a thing. Too dark. As if a heavy black blanket had been thrown over everything.

  My sneakers sank into the decaying floor as I made my way blindly through the room.

  My knee bumped into something. A chair?

  I reached down and ran my hands over it. Yes, a chair.

  Good. If there’s a chair down here, maybe I can stand on it. Climb back up into the kitchen. Or climb out a basement window.

  I moved slowly through the room. I sloshed through a deep puddle. The cold water seeped through my sneakers.

  I’m going to get you for this, Wilson.

  I tripped over a table—and something crashed to the floor. I heard glass shatter.

  And then I heard a splash.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Another animal? Another mouse or rat?

  I didn’t want to think about it. My temples began to pound.

  How was I going to get out of here?

  Should I scream for help?

  Who would hear me down here? No one—that’s who.

  On trembling legs, I moved through the room. Hands out in front of me. Groping in the dark.

  I stumbled into another table. I ran my hands over it. No—not a table. More like a bench. A workbench. My hands brushed across its top. I felt a hammer, a screwdriver, and—a candle!

  My fingers scrambled over the workbench, searching for a match to light it. I groped my way across the entire workbench.

  No matches.

  I backed away from the bench—and my sneaker rolled over something round. Something round—like a flashlight!

  I picked it up. Yes! A flashlight!

  My fingers shook as I fumbled for the switch.

  Please work. Please work. Please work.

  I flicked it on.

  A pale yellow beam of light reached weakly into the gloom.

  The flashlight was dim—but I could see!

  “I’m out of here!” I cheered.

  I swept the weak beam of light in front of me. I had fallen into a small room. Thick cobwebs draped the peeling walls.

  A rusty washing machine and clothes dryer sat in one corner. A small, wooden table and a smashed lamp lay on the floor in front of them.

  I moved the light closer—and saw a battered camp trunk. I ran my hand over the lid. Yuck. It was covered with a thick layer of damp, smelly mold.

  The trunk’s rusted hinges creaked as I lifted the top. I pointed my flashlight beam inside. Nothing in there. Nothing but an old book.

  I read the title out loud—“Flying Lessons.”

  I flipped through the yellowed pages, searching for pictures of airplanes. I love airplanes. But there wasn’t a single plane inside.

  The pages were filled with old-fashioned drawings—of humans flying through the air.

  People of all ages—men with white beards, women in long dresses, children in funny, old clothing—all soaring throu
gh the sky.

  What a strange, old book.

  I flipped through more pages—until I heard another splash.

  I swept my flashlight over the floor—and gasped.

  “Ohhhhh. Nooooo.” A low wail escaped my lips.

  I moved the pale light back and forth, hoping I wasn’t seeing what I was seeing.

  But even in the dim light, I could see the dark bodies, the tiny eyes glowing red, the open-toothed jaws.

  Rats!

  Dozens of rats. Scuttling across the floor. Moving in on me.

  I leaped back.

  I gaped in horror as they closed in.

  Sharp toenails clicked against the floor. Scraggly tails swished through the filthy puddles as they scurried forward.

  A gray sea of rats.

  I froze in terror. I gripped the flashlight tightly to stop it from shaking.

  The rats snapped their jaws. They began to hiss. The ugly sound echoed off the damp walls of the small room.

  Dozens of tiny red eyes glowed up at me.

  The hissing grew louder. Louder. Jaws snapped. Tails swished back and forth. The creatures scuttled over one another, eager to get to me.

  And then a big fat rat darted out to the front of the pack. It glared up at me hungrily with glowing red eyes. It bared sharp fangs.

  I tried to back away. But I hit the wall.

  Nowhere to run.

  The rat uttered a shrill cry. It pulled back on its hind legs—and sprang forward.

  7

  “Noooo!” I screamed and tried to dodge away.

  The rat clawed at the bottom of my shorts.

  It held on for a second, gnashing its teeth. Then it lost its hold and slid to the floor with a wet plop.

  Another rat leaped to attack.

  I thrashed my leg wildly—and kicked the rat across the room.

  Red eyes glowed up at me. The hissing grew to a shrill siren.

  I batted rats away with the old book. I swept my flashlight across the room, frantically searching for a way out.

  There! A narrow staircase across the room!

  I ran for it. Stepping into the sea of rats. Stomping hard on them—flattening their scraggly tails.

  Claws scraped against my bare legs as I ran. Two rats clung to my sneakers as I charged up the stairs.

  I kicked the rats off. Heard their bodies thumping wetly onto the floor.

  Then I staggered the rest of the way up. Hurtled to the door. And out. Out into the fresh air. Gasping. My heart pounding. Sucking in breath after breath of the salty, ocean air.