6. Poopee Isn’t Good for Starwood Park
I should have been back at school with Maria’s lunch in two seconds. But the toolshed made me stop. The door was open, and someone had written on the side in big red letters:
POOPEE
Mr. Vaslov had worked hard to paint the toolshed white. Now it had a big red bathroom word on it.
This wasn’t good for Starwood Park.
I put down Maria’s lunch and ran for some soap and water. In seconds, the shed was clean. But where was Maria’s lunch? The paper bag was gone! I looked at my watch. It was time to wash hands and line up for the cafeteria. My chance to be a hero with Maria’s lunch was over. I’d be lucky if I saved myself from Mrs. Lane. I closed the shed door.
I zipped back to school in a swirl of buzzing smoke.
“Why did you take so long in the bathroom?” Mrs. Lane asked when I walked into the room.
“I had a lot to do.”
Mrs. Lane looked at me kind of funny, but that’s all. Most teachers aren’t brave enough to ask exactly what a kid did in the bathroom.
At lunch, Maria squished her meat loaf with her fork.
“What I need is super speed,” she said. “Then I could run home. Mama packed banana and jelly for me today.”
Banana and jelly did not sound better to me than meat loaf, but I didn’t tell Maria that. I also didn’t tell her that super speed wouldn’t help now that someone had stolen her lunch. Who would do that? And who wrote POOPEE on the toolshed? My head was full of questions, including who gave me my purple sneakers. Was Mom right? Did they come from one of my Dad’s old friends?
All I knew was what I was going to do with my Zapato Power. I was going to stop whoever was trying to mess up Starwood Park.
At recess, my feet hummed like water rushing through pipes. From the playground, I can see my front door.
I was back home in half a blink, looking for answers. But I found more POOPEE than answers. This time someone had written POOPEE on the sidewalk.
I don’t want Mom to see this, I thought. She’ll think Starwood Park is turning into a bad neighborhood. We’ll have to move again.
In a flash, I got more soap and water. The sidewalk was clean, but my brain was still dirty with questions. Who wrote POOPEE? Who stole Maria’s lunch? And could Zapato Power help me solve both mysteries?
I looked behind the tool-shed. Nothing there except the yellow flowers Mr. Vaslov planted.
I ran around the building twice, searching the walls and sidewalks for more red POOPEE. I didn’t see any other bad words, but I did notice something else. The smoke coming from my sneakers covered me in a light cloud that made things sharper and clearer, like I was looking through a telescope. I could see every line between the bricks and the pattern of the curtains behind the windows.
If my purple sneakers came from one of Dad’s soldier friends, they could be part of some kind of top secret army project. Could they do other stuff I didn’t know about yet?
There wasn’t time to stop and figure it all out. Mrs. Lane would be blowing the whistle to end recess soon.
I ran around the building a third time, searching every blade of grass. This time I got lucky. I found a piece of red chalk. It was a good clue. Someone with red chalk wrote POOPEE on the shed and the sidewalk. Who? Could I figure it out if I kept running around? Or did I need something more than Zapato Power?
I checked my watch. Mrs. Lane would notice if I didn’t come back from recess. She was the kind of teacher who counted heads to make sure no one was lost.
Even if Zapato Power couldn’t solve all my mysteries, it could keep me out of trouble with Mrs. Lane.
7. Puppy Is Missing!
After school, Maria and I walked home together. Gio came running up with tears on his face.
“My puppy! She’s missing!”
“Where did you see her last?” Maria asked.
“Over there.” Gio pointed to the sidewalk. “I put down Puppy to write with chalk.”
“Chalk?” I repeated, remembering my clue. “What word did you write?”
“My favorite word,” Gio said. “I wrote ‘Puppy.’”
That’s when I solved my first mystery. Only it took more brain power than Zapato Power. Gio was the one who wrote POOPEE on the shed and sidewalk. He was a very bad speller.
“Puppy!” Gio cried again. “She ran away!”
“We have to find her,” Maria said. “She could get hurt.”
Puppy was too little to be alone. She could get run over by a car.
“Let’s spread out and look in different places,” I said.
Gio went right. Maria went left. I went everywhere.
I circled Starwood Park, my heels smoking, searching bushes, trees, and corners with my Zapato Power eyes.
I tried the school playground. I looked under the slides and all the benches, too. No little black dog with cute white ears.
I ran up and down the block, leaning down to check under parked cars. With my super speed, I had covered every inch for at least two miles. Puppy wasn’t anywhere. By the time I met back up with Gio and Maria, I was worried.
“Do you think Puppy’s been kidnapped?” I asked.
“No!” Gio started to cry again.
“Maybe Mr. Vaslov saw something,” Maria suggested.
We walked over and knocked on the toolshed.
No one opened the door, but someone answered. “Ruff! Ruff!”
It was the second time in an hour that brain power worked better than Zapato Power. When were my purple sneakers going to make me a hero?
“Puppy!” Gio cried.
We pushed the door open. Inside on the floor was a pair of purple sneakers just like mine. Beside the sneakers was a little black dog with cute white ears chewing on a paper bag.
Maria’s lunch!
Just then, Mr. Vaslov walked up. “What’s going on?”
Mr. Vaslov had a loud, deep voice. Maria, Gio, and I were used to it. But Puppy wasn’t. She ran scared between his legs and out of the shed. We all chased after her as she raced toward the street. A blue car came around the corner.
“No!” Maria shouted.
Puppy was speeding. The blue car was speeding. Maria, Gio, and Mr. Vaslov couldn’t keep up. But my purple sneakers could.
I dashed to the curb and scooped up Puppy before she ran into the street.
It was about time Zapato Power made me a hero.
Gio ran up to me. “Puppy! You saved her!”
“Ruff!” Puppy barked as she licked my face.
“She’s saying thank you.” Gio took the little black dog from my arms.
“No problem.” I felt my cheeks spreading out in a huge smile. Then Maria and Mr. Vaslov joined us on the sidewalk.
“How did you do that?” Maria asked. “You were so fast you turned into a puff of smoke.”
I gulped. What could I say that didn’t sound too much like a lie? If I was going to use my Zapato Power a lot, I would need to learn how to talk as fast as I could run.
“Great job!” Mr. Vaslov patted my back. “Your feet were smoking, like an Olympic runner.”
I stared at Mr. Vaslov. Was he saving me from Maria’s question? I remembered the purple sneakers in the toolshed.
“Ruff!” Puppy barked again.
“Puppy wants to go home,” Gio said, turning around.
We all walked back to Starwood Park. Gio and Maria went inside their apartment. I followed Mr. Vaslov. I had some questions for him.
8. I Solve the Final Mystery
“Mr. Vaslov?”
He was walking fast, like he didn’t want me to catch up with him. Of course, he didn’t get too far ahead. I had Zapato Power.
“Can I come inside your toolshed?”
Mr. Vaslov nodded his gray head and opened the door.
The purple sneakers were still on the floor beside Maria’s chewed lunch bag. They had silver wings, just like mine, only they were lots bigger.
“Do you have super sp
eed, too?” I asked Mr. Vaslov.
He sat down in a chair to put the sneakers on his feet. “I hope so.”
“Let’s race the train,” I said.
We walked to the overhead track in the back of the building.
“I’ve watched you run here almost every day,” Mr. Vaslov said. “Of all the boys I’ve seen come and go at Starwood Park, I knew you’d like my special sneakers the best.”
Was Mr. Vaslov right about that? Who wouldn’t like running faster than a train? But I didn’t want to argue with the man who gave me Zapato Power.
“Thank you,” I said.
Just then, we heard a train rumbling on the overhead track. Mr. Vaslov nodded at me.
“One, two, three!”
We both started racing. Only one of us reached the fence at the station. Me! Mr. Vaslov was way behind. I zipped back to where he was.
“Why don’t your sneakers make you go as fast as me?”
Mr. Vaslov put his hand on his chest and caught his breath. “I’m not sure,” he puffed. “I think it has something to do with weight. I can’t make the physics work for someone my size.”
“Then the purple sneakers only work for kids?”
“Right now.” He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. “But I’m working on it.”
So Mr. Vaslov was an inventor. I’d solved the last mystery, but another one was forming in my mind. What else could Mr. Vaslov invent?
“Can you make flying shoes?”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Illustrations © 2010 by Miguel Benitez
Copyright © 2010 by Jacqueline Jules
978-1-4804-6199-4
Published by Albert Whitman & Company
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Park Ridge, Illinois 60068
www.albertwhitman.com
Distributed in 2013 by Open Road Distribution
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Freddie Ramos Takes Off Page 2
