Flat Stanley's Worldwide Adventures #10

by jeff brown

  “It’s getting windy,” Stanley said nervously.

  Arthur poked a finger in the air. “Good kite weather!” he announced. Since Stanley had been flattened, Arthur often enjoyed flying him on a string on weekends.

  “How about parasailing?” said Carlos.

  Stanley’s mouth went dry.

  “Come on, Stanley,” said Arthur. “It’ll be fun.”

  Stanley swallowed. The wind scared him—especially since it had dragged him out the car window—but he didn’t want to let his friends down.

  “Okay,” he croaked.

  Eduardo dug a rope out of one of the bags. Carlos tied one end to Sam Houston’s saddle and the other end around Stanley.

  “Ready?” Eduardo called from atop Sam Houston.

  With a grunt, Carlos lifted Stanley up over his head like a board, and they grabbed each other’s wrists.

  “Whatever you do, don’t let go,” Stanley said.

  “Whatever you do, don’t drop me,” Carlos replied with a chuckle.

  “Ready!” they shouted together.

  “Hi-ya!” Eduardo kicked Sam Houston into a gallop. Carlos jumped up as the rope went taut. Stanley shut his eyes tight, and they were airborne.

  The air current lifted Stanley’s chest, and he pulled Carlos up with him. The boys floated higher and higher, until they were almost directly above Eduardo’s and Arthur’s galloping horses.

  Carlos let out a high-pitched “yi, yi, yi, yi, yi!”

  “I’m next!” cried Arthur from below.

  This is fun, Stanley realized. He opened his eyes, and the view took his breath away. “It’s beautiful!” he called from his place high in the air.

  The sky and the land both seemed bigger than they were at home. To one side there were rolling green hills spreading as far as Stanley could see. To the other, Stanley spied an endless expanse of prairies. The dimmest outline of mountains was on the horizon.

  Stanley had learned in school that Texas was the second-biggest state after Alaska. It sure looks that big from up here, thought Stanley.

  Carlos pulled one of Stanley’s hands, and Stanley banked to the right. Carlos pulled the other, and they swooped left. He pulled both and they dived.

  “Yee-haw!” cried Stanley, swooping up again.

  Suddenly Stanley saw a flash of black out of the corner of his eye.

  “BIRDS!” Carlos screamed.

  They flew through the flock as if it were a black cloud. Dodging a bird, Carlos loosened his grip.

  “Carlos!” screamed Stanley. He bent his fingers, catching Carlos’s hand. Stanley’s left side dipped, trying to hold his friend. The ground rushed up. “We’re going to crash!” yelled Carlos.

  “HELP!” Stanley cried.

  Amid a thundering of hooves, a hand reached out. “I have you!” Stanley’s brother called. He pulled Carlos onto the back of Davy Crockett, and Stanley floated down onto the horse’s rump behind them.

  “You saved us, amigo,” Carlos said breathlessly to Arthur.

  Stanley reached over and squeezed his brother’s shoulder in gratitude.

  “I think that’s enough excitement for today!” Eduardo announced from alongside them. “Let’s find a place to camp!”

  5

  On the Run

  The boys tied their horses to a tree near a low stone hill called Enchanted Rock.

  As they had collected firewood, Enchanted Rock had glowed a bright, fiery pink in the setting sun. Now the rock lurked in the dark behind their campsite. Stanley’s stomach growled as he fanned the glowing embers of the campfire with his arm.

  “Some Native American tribes believe Enchanted Rock is a doorway to the spirit world,” Eduardo said.

  The light from the fire flickered on Eduardo’s face. Suddenly a strange, otherworldly moaning rose up all around them, as if from the center of the earth. “What’s that?” Arthur shrieked, lifting Stanley up and hiding behind him.

  Eduardo laughed. “The Tonkawa tribe says it is ghosts. Scientists say it is just the sound of the rock cooling after being heated by the sun all day.”

  “Put me down, Arthur,” Stanley grumbled as he was placed on the ground.

  Stanley grabbed a can of beans from his pack, pulled open the top, and put the can on the fire. “Calamity Jasper says a cowboy always travels with a can of beans,” he said.

  “Calamity Jasper? Who’s that?” Eduardo wondered aloud.

  “We met her a while back in the Black Hills of South Dakota,” said Arthur. “I singlehandedly saved her life when she was trapped in a gold mine.”

  “You did not,” Stanley said, rolling his eyes. “But she did teach us to build a campfire.” Stanley smiled, thinking about her. “She’s a good friend,” he said simply.

  Stanley and the other boys talked late into the night . . . about bullfighting in Mexico, how many tacos they could eat in one sitting, whether there was life on other planets, and their biggest fears.

  Stanley stoked the glowing coals of the fire with a stick. “There’s a part of me that’s getting scared to go outside on a windy day. I keep getting blown away.”

  His friends nodded in understanding. Somehow that was all it took to make Stanley feel better.

  At last Arthur draped Stanley over him for warmth, and Stanley pulled a blanket over them both.

  “Good night, guys,” Stanley said with a yawn.

  The boys murmured their soft replies and drifted off to sleep.

  Early the next morning the boys ate some dry cereal and packed up camp. Stanley wished they could stay another night, but they had to be at the Alamo by noon. Arthur set the alarm on his watch to make sure they wouldn’t be late.

  Riding back to Bandera, they galloped over rocks and between cacti. They skirted a red canyon. The sun rose higher and higher.

  In a few hours Big Bill’s Dude Ranch appeared in the distance. As they got closer, Stanley could see a group of people gathered around the porch. They were less than a hundred yards away when Stanley read a sign a girl was holding: I’M FLAT-OUT IN LOVE! His stomach sank as he realized it was a group of fans looking for him.

  The boys pulled Sam Houston and Davy Crockett to a stop.

  “Looks like Stanleymania has caught up with us,” said Arthur.

  “What should we do?” asked Carlos.

  “I have an idea,” Eduardo said. “Stanley, do you still have that map of Texas?”

  Stanley nodded.

  Eduardo jumped down from his horse and rummaged through his saddlebag. He pulled out a Magic Marker. “We’re going to smuggle you out of here.”

  To stay out of sight, Stanley lay draped facedown over Davy Crockett like a blanket. As Carlos and Eduardo tied up the horses, Stanley could hear Big Bill answering questions on the porch of the dude ranch. “Yes, ma’am!” he said. “That does sound like him! About this high”—he held his hand up to his belly—“and this thick.” He pinched his fingers together.

  Eduardo slipped Stanley his disguise: It was the sign he had written on the back of the map. In big letters it read WHOM DO WE WANT? STANLEY! The boys had argued about whether it should say “who” or “whom.” Finally they checked Mrs. Lambchop’s book of grammar rules. To Stanley’s surprise, “whom” was correct.

  Stanley jumped down from the horse and held the sign in front of his face. Eduardo lifted him up. Stanley kept his thin side out, and Eduardo walked calmly to the car, looking as if he were just another Stanley fan toting a sign.

  The boys jumped in the car with their things, and Eduardo hit the gas. Just when Stanley thought the coast was clear, Arthur cried, “We’ve got company!” A big pickup truck had pulled out of the parking lot after them.

  We’re being chased! Stanley realized.

  “Your fans really are loco about you,” said Carlos in disbelief. The truck was visible in their rearview mirror.

  “Lucky me,” Stanley huffed.

  “Maybe you’ll get kidnapped!” Arthur said excitedly. He started telling Carlos and Eduardo
about what happened when they mailed Stanley to Oda Nobu, the martial arts star in Japan. Some fans had kidnapped Oda Nobu and Stanley, and Arthur had had to rescue them.

  “Being famous isn’t as fun as it’s cracked up to be,” said Stanley when Arthur was finished.

  “One of our cousins, the great matador Carmen del Junco, says that being famous is a responsibility,” said Carlos.

  “Hmph,” grumbled Stanley. “I don’t need more responsibility. I don’t even like to clean my room.”

  “Come on,” said Arthur. “It’s not that bad. Everybody loves you.”

  Stanley frowned.

  “You get to do whatever you want!” Arthur continued.

  “I just want to be treated like a normal kid,” argued Stanley. “I want to hang out with my friends and play outside and get in trouble without it ending up in the newspaper.” He glanced back at the truck chasing them. “They think I’m some kind of idol. But I’m not. I’m just like them. It’s just that I’m . . . flatter.”

  “Then it is true what they say,” said Eduardo. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  Even Stanley couldn’t help laughing at that. Eduardo turned onto a side road, but the truck swerved and kept following them.

  “What’s that up ahead?” Stanley asked. In the distance, a field of giant white windmills, as tall as apartment buildings, rose into view.

  “It’s a wind farm,” said Eduardo. “Texas is home to some of the biggest wind farms in the world. They can be hundreds of miles wide.”

  Stanley’s chest tightened. His sides curled slightly.

  “Turn around!” he croaked.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Eduardo.

  “They’re right behind us,” said Carlos.

  “TURN AROUND!” Stanley repeated, his whole body shaking.

  “But, Stanley—” Arthur began.

  “No, Arthur!” cried Stanley. “Remember how I got blown across Canada? Remember Australia? I am NOT going into a wind farm if I can help it!”

  After a moment Eduardo spoke in a steady voice. “Stanley, I know how you feel. But as your friend, I have to tell you that you cannot run from your fears.”

  “What if I blow away?” said Stanley.

  “We won’t let anything happen to you, amigo,” said Carlos.

  “We won’t even leave the car,” said Arthur. “Promise.”

  Stanley swallowed and looked around at his friends. The only things that might be stronger than the wind, he thought, are friends like these.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” He grabbed Arthur’s hand and leaned back against the seat, taking deep breaths as Eduardo drove into the field of windmills.

  6

  Facing the Wind

  Stanley watched the slender white base of one windmill after another zip past the car window. The truck was hot on their trail.

  “Lose them, Eduardo!” said Carlos.

  “Señora Lambchop said to drive safely,” Eduardo replied. He kept his eyes fixed on the road.

  “Maybe if we go in between the windmills,” said Arthur, “we’ll be harder to follow.”

  Eduardo put on his blinker and carefully made a left turn off the main road. They slipped between two wind turbines. Eduardo made a right and then another left. White posts flew by in a blur. Soon Stanley had lost track of all the turns they’d made.

  “I don’t see them!” Carlos announced.

  “We lost them!” agreed Arthur.

  Stanley and the guys exchanged high fives.

  But in the driver’s seat, Eduardo had grown quiet. He was leaning over the steering wheel, looking carefully in one direction and then the other.

  “What’s wrong, Eduardo?” asked Stanley.

  “I can’t find the road we started on,” Eduardo said. “And we’re supposed to be at the Alamo soon.”

  “You mean we’re lost?” said Carlos.

  “We’re going to be late?” croaked Arthur, checking his watch.

  Eduardo said nothing. Stanley looked around. The windmills were identical and stretched in every direction.

  “Try going back that way,” Carlos suggested.

  To turn around, Eduardo stepped on the brake and shifted into reverse. They lurched backward, and the car was jolted by a crunch. They had backed into a windmill. In a panic, Eduardo shifted the car into gear, and the car shot forward. Crunch! The front fender struck another windmill.

  “Uh-oh,” said Stanley under his breath.

  Eduardo turned off the ignition. He spoke in a blank voice. “Señora Lambchop gave us only three rules. One: Drive safely.”

  “Too bad we just crashed,” said Carlos.

  “Two,” continued Eduardo. “Meet her at the Alamo on time. And three—”

  “Well, since we’re lost,” Arthur interrupted, “there ain’t no way that’s ever going to happen.”

  Stanley shot Arthur a look. “You mean ‘isn’t any way,’” Stanley said.

  Arthur winced, realizing what he’d just done.

  ‘And three,” repeated Eduardo, “follow the rules of English grammar.” He dropped his head to the steering wheel. “We have failed.” He sighed.

  Stanley couldn’t bear to see his friends so upset. He suddenly realized how he could help . . . even if it meant doing what he was most scared to do.

  “I know how to find our way out of here,” Stanley said slowly. “Tie me to the rope and let the wind carry me up above the windmills. I’ll be able to see the road.”

  Carlos shook his head. “Stanley, the wind—”

  “I’ll be okay,” said Stanley.

  “Are you sure, Stanley?” said Eduardo, raising his head.

  “You guys have been there for me every step of the way,” said Stanley. “It’s my turn.”

  The boys all got out of the car to help Stanley get ready. His hands shook as he tested the rope around his body. There was a steady breeze in the air from all the windmills, and he had to struggle to keep his feet on the ground.

  Stanley felt a bead of sweat roll down his face and all the way to his shoes. “I’m scared,” he said simply.

  Eduardo peered into his eyes. “Stanley, do you remember when you arrived in Mexico?” he said. “All the children thought you could not be hurt. We thought we could hit you like a piñata, and nothing would happen.”

  Stanley nodded.

  “You told us we were wrong. Only then did we see how brave you were. Being brave does not mean you’re not scared. It means you keep going even when you are.”

  “No one is braver than you, amigo,” agreed Carlos.

  “Except maybe me,” teased Arthur.

  Stanley nodded to his friends. Carlos and Arthur stepped forward, and together they helped lift Stanley into the air.

  Releasing the rope a little bit at a time, Eduardo ensured that Stanley was carried up carefully between the windmills.

  When the last bit of rope was let out, Stanley floated above the wind farm, his body bobbing and flapping.

  He surveyed the clear blue of the sky, the white sprouts of the windmills, and the brown of the earth. He called down to his friends. “The road is seven windmills that way!”

  “Good work, amigo!” called Carlos.

  “We’re bringing you back down!” shouted Eduardo.

  Stanley started to descend. Then there was a sudden jolt. The rope holding him had crossed a windmill’s blades. The rope had been cut!

  The wind tried to snatch him.

  No! Stanley thought.

  Without thinking, he rolled himself up like he had after Eduardo’s concert. His stomach plunged as he dropped from the sky like a stone. He could hear his friends shouting.

  He took a deep breath in and unrolled himself at the last moment. The gusting wind pushed him along the ground until he came to a rest . . . right in front of his friends.

  The three boys stared down at Stanley in amazement and rushed to help him up.

  “Are you okay?” Arthur said, gasping.

  “I know what to do
next time the wind tries to get me!” cried Stanley. “I just have to roll myself up!” He hugged his friends.

  “Let’s get out of here!” said Arthur. “Maybe we won’t be so late after all!”

  7

  Showdown at the Alamo

  As Eduardo followed the speed limit toward San Antonio and the Alamo, Stanley and his friends counted down the minutes until they were due to meet Mrs. Lambchop.

  There was grim silence as the alarm on Arthur’s watch went off: It was noon. They were late. Stanley hoped his mother wouldn’t be too angry.

  “Didn’t something bad happen at the Alamo?” said Arthur. “Because I feel like we’re about to be grounded forever.”

  Eduardo cleared his throat. “It was eighteen thirty-six. Texas had been ruled by France and then by Spain. Then it was a colony of Mexico. There was a terrible dictator, and the Texans decided to fight for their independence. More than one thousand five hundred Mexican soldiers, against just a few hundred Texans, tried to take the Alamo. It was a long and terrible fight. The Texans lost—but they vowed to win after that. ‘Remember the Alamo!’ they said. Soon after, they beat the Mexican army and won their independence. That’s why they call Texas the Lone Star State—because the spirit of independence here has always been so strong.”

  They arrived at last. The chapel of the Alamo had a roof that curved up in the center like a rising sun. The building looked like it had been standing for centuries and would stand for many more.

  The boys climbed out of the car. In the distance, across the empty parking lot, Stanley’s mother was waiting. Her feet were apart and her hands were on her hips. A dark frown hung on her face.

  “Whatever happens,” Arthur said, gulping, “we stick together.”