by Bill Harley
“He was only fifteen or twenty feet up in the air,” said Daedalus. “But it was terrible. He broke his leg in two places.”
Darius thought of his dad’s hiccupping walk. “That’s why my dad limped,” he whispered.
“Yes, and it was my fault.” Daedalus took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “I felt terrible about the accident. I went to see Rudy in the hospital, but Gracie wouldn’t let me in the room. She loved your father more than anything in the world, you know. I loved both of them, and I had let both of them down.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Not on purpose. But I did it. I was wrong. Gracie was right. She almost lost her job, too, because of the accident. There was nothing I could do. We argued. I was as upset as she was. I didn’t blame her when she stopped speaking to me.”
“But you still could have gotten along,” Darius insisted. “She still thinks about you. I know she does.”
Daedalus shook his head. “Not long after the accident, I changed jobs and moved here. I never heard from Gracie again. I hid the plans for the flying bicycles away and buried myself in other work. And now your father is gone, and I feel responsible. If I hadn’t taught him how to ride the bike, or talked so much about flying, he might not have disappeared.”
“A hot air balloon is different from a bicycle.”
“It wasn’t the bicycle,” Daedalus said. “It was the flying. If you want to fly, you have to be ready. You have to know your possibilities, true, but you also have to know your limits. Sometimes when you fly, you forget who you are. You’re alone, and you forget. I know that now. It’s very exciting to try new things, but you can never forget who you are. When you’re learning to fly, you first need a safe place to fall. I should have given that safe place to your father. I didn’t. That was my fault.”
“It’s not the same with me,” said Darius. “You can show me the right way.”
“I can’t take a chance on another accident. I’d never get over it if something terrible happened to you.”
“Don’t you see? Something terrible is going to happen to me if you don’t help. We can still find Miss Hastings. We have to!”
“She doesn’t want to see me. And we don’t even know where she—”
“Yes, she does,” Darius interrupted. “Yes, we do. Look!” He pulled out the letter and handed it to Daedalus.
The old man read the letter, then folded the paper with trembling hands. “I don’t think I can do anything about this,” he said. “After all that’s happened.”
“Sure you can,” said Darius.
“No, I can’t. It’s too late now.” Tears welled up in Daedalus’s eyes.
Darius reached in his pocket, looking for a tissue—something to dry tears and sadness. Instead, his hand wrapped around the silver wings Miss Hastings had given him. He pulled them out and held his clenched fist out to the old man.
“Look,” Darius said, opening his hand to reveal the charm in his palm.
Daedalus drew in his breath. “Where did you get that?”
“Miss Hastings gave it to me. She told me what you said to her: ‘Remember, you can fly!’”
“She said that?” Daedalus asked.
“Yes. Those were her exact words. Isn’t that what you said to her?”
Daedalus looked off across the basement, but he might as well have been looking off into a clear blue sky with no end. He was remembering something from long ago.
“Didn’t you say that?” Darius asked again.
“Yes, I did.”
“Don’t you see, Daedalus? She wanted me to fly, too. Do you think she would have said that if she didn’t think about you? Somehow she knew that you would find me!” Darius grabbed the old man by the shoulders. “Come on, let’s fix the red bike. You said you knew what was wrong. We can fly together to Miss Hastings.”
Daedalus shook his head. “What if you fell?”
“You’ll be with me! I’ll be careful. I won’t forget who I am. I trust you, Daedalus. You won’t let me fall. We can do it!”
Daedalus gasped at those words—his eyes filled with tears again. And then a small, mischievous smile appeared on the old man’s face. “It wouldn’t be very responsible of me,” he said slyly.
“You’re saving my life! That’s responsible,” Darius said. “I’ll die at Crapper Academy! Anthony will really eat me alive.”
Daedalus glanced away, then back at Darius. The old man grinned. “All right,” he said.
“Thank you!” Darius shouted, jumping up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“But wait! If I fix this bike, if I adjust the sixth gear, you must promise you’ll be very careful.”
“Okay,” said Darius.
“Promise me. Say it.”
“I promise.”
“You have to wear a helmet!”
“Of course!”
“All right. I’ll try to get it ready tonight. You come here early tomorrow morning, and we’ll go find Miss Hastings. Then we’ll see what we can do together.”
“I love you, Daedalus,” Darius said. He threw his arms around him.
The old man coughed and sputtered, “All right, all right. That’s enough. Get back to your aunt’s. I’ll work on the bike. I just hope I’m right about the calculations.”
“I’m sure you are. See you tomorrow!” Darius dashed up the stairs and out the door. Determined to reach the house before Aunt Inga realized he was gone, he raced through the streets. He didn’t have a bike, but he hoped he would soon.
If Darius had looked back, he would have seen the shiny blue-green bike, still trailing him.
16
One Last Chance
When Darius made it back to the house, Aunt Inga was just finishing her magazine sales calls. During dinner, not a word was said about the bicycle or about Crapper Academy. In fact, not a word was said at all. Darius almost dared to hope that Aunt Inga had forgotten her plans to send him away.
Early the next morning, while it was still dark, Darius slipped out of bed and tiptoed up the basement stairs. When he opened the door to the hallway, the light switched on suddenly, and there, towering over him, was Aunt Inga.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
Darius felt the world come crashing down on him again.
“No,” he sighed, “just to the bathroom.”
“Hah!” Her laugh rattled in her throat. “I doubt that. You were going to sneak out again. Well, not this time, bucko. I’ve been up all night, waiting and listening.”
“Why were you doing that?”
“I know about you and Mr. Daedalus What’s-his-name. I know all about it.”
“Daedalus?” Darius gasped. “You know about Daedalus? How?”
“Because Anthony told me that he followed you yesterday afternoon when you went over there. He saw you go in the house, and he stayed until you came out. I know what’s going on—you can’t trick me anymore.” Aunt Inga grabbed Darius by the arm and led him down the hall. “Go to the bathroom, but then you’re going right back down to the basement to pack your bags. You’ll stay there until the colonel comes to take you to the Crapper, where you belong.”
“But—”
“No buts this time, mister. Nosiree Bob—it’s the end of the road for you.”
And it looked like it was.
When Darius came back upstairs, Aunt Inga was waiting for him at the door. She didn’t take her eyes off him for a moment. She made him put his bags by the front door, ready to go when the colonel arrived. The entire time, Darius kept thinking, searching, trying to discover a way out of his predicament.
Darius thought of Daedalus and the marvelous bike waiting for him; escape and freedom seemed so close. But a flying bicycle did no good if he couldn’t get near it.
It looked as if he was really going to Crapper Academy.
Shortly before noon, Anthony and Mrs. Gritbun showed up at the house with all of Anthony’s belongings for school. While the two women
talked to one another, Anthony taunted Darius.
“I’m taking my new bicycle to school. It’s right outside. Would you like to see it?”
Darius tried to ignore him, but Anthony wouldn’t shut up.
“A couple more hours, we’ll get to school, and you’ll be all mine. I’ll teach you a thing or two.”
Darius knew it would make Anthony madder, but he couldn’t help talking back. “You’ll see,” he said. “I’ll never go to that stupid school. Or give in to someone as mean and stupid as you.”
Anthony grabbed Darius around the neck and gave him a sharp rap on the top of his head with his knuckles.
“Ouch!” yelled Darius. “Stop it!”
“Don’t let him out of your sight,” called out Aunt Inga. “He doesn’t know what’s good for him.”
And that is how things stood when Darius heard a car door slam out front. He broke loose from Anthony’s grasp and looked out the window.
Colonel Crimper from Crapper Academy was getting out of a big black sedan. Darius gulped. The colonel marched up the walk, looking even bigger and meaner than before.
A loud knock announced the headmaster’s arrival. Aunt Inga seized Darius by the arm and led him to the front door. Anthony followed behind them. Aunt Inga opened the door, still fiercely holding on to Darius with her other hand.
At this moment you may be wishing that a superhero would appear.
Or a wizard.
Or an enormous carnivorous caterpillar, sixty feet long, that inhaled horrid people.
Nope. Just humans in this story. Some pleasant ones. Some unpleasant ones. It’s too late to bring in other creatures now.
Especially carnivorous caterpillars.
Darius was stuck.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” said Colonel Crimper. “I’ve come for your nephew.”
“You’re most welcome to him. He’s all packed. You can have him now.”
And then Gertrude Gritbun spoke up. “Why don’t we all go outside for a picture with the colonel? So we can have a reminder of our children going off to school.”
“Oh yes,” said Aunt Inga, nervously patting her hair into place. “But first,” she whispered to Mrs. Gritbun, “let me … um … slip on something a little nicer. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to think about myself. It’ll just take a minute.” Turning to Anthony, she added, “Anthony, dearest, keep your eye on Darius for me.”
“Gladly,” snickered Anthony.
Aunt Inga let go of her nephew and disappeared into her bedroom.
“Don’t move, worm,” Anthony breathed in Darius’s ear.
Mrs. Gritbun and the colonel stepped outside to look for a place to take the picture.
Darius’s mind was working at full speed. Now was his chance. Now or never. He knew what he had to do.
“Hey, Anthony,” he said. “Let’s watch some television.”
“Okay. Not a bad idea for a jerk,” said Anthony, plopping down into Aunt Inga’s comfortable chair.
Darius picked up the remote and clicked the set on. Someone had just won a lifetime supply of frozen onion rings on a game show. People in crazy costumes were screaming and clapping their hands together. Darius turned up the volume a notch.
His idea worked like a dream. In an instant Anthony was hypnotized by the television. He sat there, transfixed. Darius quietly tiptoed into the kitchen and slipped silently out the back door.
Darius tore through the neighbors’ backyards and emerged on the sidewalk several houses up. He hid behind a shrub and looked back. Mrs. Gritbun and the colonel were standing by the big black car.
And then he took off toward Daedalus’s house.
He ran like the wind.
When a commercial came on, Anthony woke up. He looked around and saw that Darius was missing.
“That stupid twerp got away! He tricked me! I’ll kill him!” he ranted.
Aunt Inga came out of her bedroom half dressed, hopping on a slippered foot while she tried to put a shoe on the other. Her hair shot out of her head at odd angles.
“What?” she bellowed. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He was here just a second ago. Maybe he’s in the bathroom.”
“No, he’s not in the bathroom!” Aunt Inga screamed. “He got away. We have to catch him.”
“I’ll pound him to dust!” roared Anthony.
“I bet he went to that old guy’s house, old Daedalus Hoozydunk,” said Aunt Inga.
“And I know where he lives!” yelled Anthony.
“Then let’s go!” sputtered Aunt Inga, hurriedly buttoning her dress.
The two of them collided in the doorway, then Aunt Inga shoved Anthony out of her way. She bustled down the walk with Anthony right behind her and quickly explained to Mrs. Gritbun and the colonel what had happened. They all piled into the big black car and took off.
When Darius reached Daedalus’s house, his heart was hammering in his chest and he had to gulp for breath.
The first thing he saw was Daedalus’s flying bike leaning against the porch. Extra wheels, fenders, sprockets, and handlebars sprouted from it at all angles like exotic rainforest plants.
Standing beside it was a smaller bike Darius barely recognized. It had to be his father’s bike—the one he had seen under the basement stairs. Daedalus had repaired the wheel and polished the chrome to a silvery glow. He had replaced the worn seat with a shiny new black leather one and attached clean fins and wings to the frame. The body of the bike, sporting a fresh coat of red paint, sparkled in the morning sun.
“My bike,” Darius said to himself as he ran his hand through the streamers dangling from the handle grips. A football helmet the same color red as the bicycle hung by its strap over one side of the handlebars. On the gear shifter Daedalus had posted a small sign:
Darius could barely keep from jumping on the bike and riding away. Where was Daedalus anyway? Their time was running out. He ran up the porch steps and pounded on the door. No one answered.
“Daedalus! Open up! It’s me! We have to go!” Darius opened the door and called out again, “Daedalus! Where are you?”
The house was silent. Darius went to the basement stairs and yelled for Daedalus. Still no answer.
Darius returned to the kitchen and stood by the table, wondering what to do.
And then he smelled it. Memories came flooding back. He couldn’t believe it.
It was the distinct smell of burnt toast.
He looked at the toaster. Sticking out of it was a piece of bread, charred a dark, dark brown.
“Miss Hastings is here!” he shouted. “Miss Hastings! Miss Hastings!” he called, walking through the house again. He ran down the stairs to the basement workspace. There was no one there. Darius started up the stairs, but something made him stop. He looked back at the wall above the workbench; the picture of the boy on the bike with the balloons on each fender caught his eye. He scampered back down the steps and pulled the picture down. He peered closely at it, then turned it over.
On the back were these words:
To Mr. Daedalus,
Thanks.
Love, Rudy—Your Flyboy
Darius flipped the picture back over. Flyboy. That’s what his father always called him. He put the picture on the workbench and ran upstairs. He tried to fight off a feeling of panic. Had Daedalus and Miss Hastings gone off without him?
17
Flyboy
Darius dashed out the front door and looked down the street. His heart leapt when he saw a tandem bicycle approaching. Pedaling away on the front seat was Daedalus. Behind him, on the second seat, sat a familiar figure Darius hadn’t seen for ages.
“Miss Hastings! Daedalus!” Darius waved wildly. “Miss Hastings! What are you doing here?”
His housekeeper was wearing a helmet that looked like a mushroom. She smiled nervously, but didn’t raise her hand from the handlebars. “Hello, Darius! Hello!” she called out. “I came to find you. We were out looking for you!”
Daedalus rang the bell on the handlebars. Ching ching ching!
Darius started to run toward them, but then a terrible sight sent chills down his spine. Turning onto the street, only a few hundred yards behind Daedalus and Miss Hastings, was Colonel Crimper’s big black car.
Darius’s heart stuck in his throat. He was trapped. Which way to go? Daedalus’s house was at the end of a dead-end street. Darius thought about trying to reach Daedalus and Miss Hastings before Colonel Crimper and the others caught up to them, but he gave up on that idea. The car was coming too fast. If his aunt and the colonel and Anthony got ahold of him, there was no telling what they would do.
The big black sedan was cruising down the street, heading straight for him. When it passed Daedalus and Miss Hastings on their bike, the car seemed to pick up speed.
Darius had to get away. He turned and started running toward Daedalus’s house.
The colonel honked the horn. Aunt Inga was hanging out the passenger side window. “Stop!” she shrieked. “Stop right now, Darius!”
“We’ll get you, you pathetic worm,” yelled Anthony from a back window.
Darius darted around to the side of the porch. There was the red bike, waiting for him, sparkling in the sun. He strapped on the helmet, flung himself on the seat, and started pedaling. He twisted the handlebars one way and another, making his way through the maze of bicycle parts in Daedalus’s yard.
“Wait, Darius! No! Wait!” Daedalus was calling to him, but Darius was too scared to stop. He was determined not to end up at Crapper Academy. Through the jumble of bicycles, he saw an opening into an alley, and beyond it the backyards of other houses. Between the houses he saw another street. He pushed the pedals even harder, riding into the neighboring backyard.
Colonel Crimper’s car screeched to a halt, skidded a few feet, and crashed into the fence in front of Daedalus’s house. Bikes toppled down from the fence onto the hood of his car.
“Keep going!” screamed Aunt Inga. “He’s getting away!”
“I’ll get that twerp,” Anthony said. He threw open the car door, almost smashing it into the tandem bike.
