by Bill Harley
“No,” said Darius, quite sure of himself now. “You listen to me!”
“Hold on a minute there, soldier,” said Colonel Crimper.
“I am not a soldier, and I never want to be one.” Darius paused, taking a deep breath. Something inside him knew what was right and true, and he had to speak. “I have some things to say.” Darius had never spoken so forcefully before and his whole body was trembling.
“Aunt Inga,” Darius began again. “I’m not coming back. I knew from the beginning you didn’t want me to live with you. From the first time you saw me you have been mean to me. You’re so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t even know how mean you are! I was sad and alone, and you were never nice to me. Not even for a minute. You never even hugged me. Not one hug!”
It was very quiet. No one moved.
“And you hid Miss Hastings’s letters. You lied to me! Why did you do that? Why did you lie?”
Darius glanced around at the other grown-ups. Daedalus and Miss Hastings were nodding their heads. Colonel Crimper was grimacing, as if he’d seen a creature from deep space. Then Darius looked back at his aunt. He was waiting for her to yell. But she didn’t.
Instead, her mouth formed an O like a small donut, and the color drained from her angry red cheeks. She breathed in and out noisily, sounding like an air pump. Her bottom lip began to quiver. It quivered and shook until it was positively flapping up and down like the mouth of a balloon letting out all of its air.
And then Darius saw her hand go toward her eyes. She was wiping away a tear.
Aunt Inga was crying.
In spite of how angry he had been at Aunt Inga and how much he wanted to get away from her, Darius did feel a little sorry for her. Aunt Inga was deflating in front of him like a punctured inner tube. “No one ever understands all the hardships I have to endure,” she blubbered. “Those Migby Figby people took advantage of me. I should never have let them talk me into taking in a needy little boy. I don’t know what to say to children. I never understood them. And I barely have the resources to keep myself going. I knew nothing good would come of it.”
Aunt Inga sniffled and snorted. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then wiped her hand on her dress. “I took those letters for your own good. There was no point in giving them to you so you could cry and go on about your beloved babysitter. I knew you didn’t like me from the beginning. No one likes me.”
Mrs. Gritbun walked over to Aunt Inga and patted her shoulder. “There, there, Ingy. I like you.”
“Oh,” sniffled Aunt Inga, “you just like my cookies.”
“No, no, no,” protested Gertrude. “I like you. I really do. Although I must admit those cookies are tasty.”
“Ahem.” Colonel Crimper cleared his throat. “Excuse me, ma’am. Um … uh, Darius’s aunt—whatever your name is.”
Aunt Inga turned and glared at the colonel.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I no longer consider your nephew a suitable candidate for our academy. Insolence and delinquency we can fix. And we can correct a smart-aleck. But this creative stuff—disobeying direct orders, speaking up for himself, flying off on an unapproved vehicle—it has no place at Crapper. An insubordinate young man like this would disrupt all our discipline. It takes time and effort to take such behavior out of a young boy. I’m afraid it’s too late for him.”
“You can’t fix me?” asked Darius, “You mean I’m already ruined? For life?”
“I’m afraid so, son. You’re a mess.”
“Hooray,” said Darius. “Hooray, hooray!”
“Hooray!” chorused Daedalus and Miss Hastings.
The colonel turned to Anthony. “As for you, soldier, all I can say is I’m disappointed. This fellow isn’t even a junior cadet, and he had to save you. It was a pathetic display of incompetence up there for everyone to see. Before you’re ever captain of the guard, I think you’ll need some seasoning. A little bathroom duty ought to help.”
Anthony’s shoulders slumped, and he looked as miserable as Darius had ever seen him. In spite of himself, Darius even felt a little sorry for Anthony.
“Yes, Colonel Crimper, sir,” Anthony said.
The colonel grabbed Anthony by the arm and led him to his big black car.
“Anthony, honey,” Gertrude Gritbun said. “Aren’t you going to say good-bye? How about a good-bye kiss?”
Anthony only raised his hand and shook his head as Colonel Crimper stuffed him in the car. A sad look passed over Gertrude Gritbun’s face. Now, Darius even felt a little sorry for her.
Everyone watched the car drive away.
“I’m quite tired,” said Aunt Inga in a small voice. “I’m going home.” She turned to leave.
“Wait for me, Ingy,” said Mrs. Gritbun. “I’ll walk with you.”
Aunt Inga and Anthony’s mother headed home. Darius was left standing with Miss Hastings and Daedalus.
“Welcome back to Earth,” said Daedalus. “I’m glad you came down.”
“It’s so good to see you,” said Miss Hastings.
“I had to come back,” said Darius. “When I was up there pedaling, I kept thinking and seeing all these things in my mind. At least, I think they were in my mind. I thought I saw my dad in a balloon. And then, I thought about the time my dad taught me to ride a bicycle. He let go, and at first I was afraid. Then I was really excited when I saw I could balance on my own. But the thing I remembered most clearly was riding back to my dad. ‘Come home,’ he called. ‘Come home, flyboy.’ Up there in the sky, I knew I could fly away on my own, but I wanted to come back. To both of you.”
“And that’s what we want,” said Miss Hastings. “Don’t you think so, Daedalus?” She looked up shyly at her old friend.
“Yes, indeed.” Daedalus nodded. “Yes, indeed.”
“Let’s go have a snack,” said Miss Hastings. “I think I have some toast in the toaster.”
“Okay,” said Darius, “but you have to tell me about everything. You have to tell me what happened to that bike up there.”
“All in good time,” said Daedalus. “I will as well as I can.”
“And you have to tell me what happened to you two.”
“All right,” said Miss Hastings, “We will. As well as we can.”
“I think you’d better lock up that bike, Darius,” said Daedalus. “We don’t want anyone taking it for a ride and being a little surprised at what happens.”
19
What Happened a Long Time Ago
Miss Hastings began. “I was working for your grandparents. I was very young.”
“And very beautiful,” said Daedalus. He reached across the kitchen table and squeezed Miss Hastings’s hand. Darius looked at Miss Hastings. It wasn’t hard to imagine her as young and beautiful.
“I met Daedalus in the park,” she said, “while I was taking your father for a walk.”
Then Daedalus chimed in. “It was my lunch hour. I used to take a break from my work at the physics laboratory and walk in the park. And of course, I always carried some tools with me just in case someone needed a little help with their bicycle or tricycle.”
“He loved to help people fix things,” Miss Hastings said.
“He still does,” said Darius.
Daedalus flashed a quick smile and went on. “The first time I saw Gracie there, I knew she was someone special. She was very good with your father. He was very, very active. Even then.”
“He could never sit still,” said Miss Hastings.
“We fell in love,” said Daedalus. “And I got to know your father. He was a wonderful boy”
“Daedalus could entertain Rudy for hours on end with his marvelous stories and handmade toys,” she added. “He even built a bike for Rudy and taught him how to ride it.”
“And should have stopped there,” said Daedalus.
“Daedalus was quite brilliant, you know.” Miss Hastings winked at Darius. “He had advanced quickly in his job at the science lab. Then one day he told me that he was worki
ng on a project of his own—a very unusual bicycle. He was searching for a way to make it fly through … um … changing something.”
“Gyroscopic polarity,” said Daedalus. “And incomplete entry into a seventh dimension.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Miss Hastings. “I never understood any of it. And no one else ever did, either. Everyone at the science lab thought he was crazy, so he worked on it in secret. He finished building his flying bicycle just about the time we were going to be married. Rudy, who was only eleven years old at the time, heard him talking about the bike, and begged to ride it. I was afraid that Daedalus was going to let him. I said ‘no.’ I was very protective of Rudy.”
“It was your job,” said Daedalus.
“Sometimes I was too protective,” said Miss Hastings. “I said ‘no’ to so many things in those days that your father just went behind my back and rode the bike anyway.”
Darius had a hard time picturing Miss Hastings being strict. She had always let him do just about anything he wanted to.
“No, it was my fault,” said Daedalus. “I should have prepared him better for flying. Your father was so excited, and I was too eager to prove that my invention was a success.”
“But you didn’t give him permission,” Miss Hastings protested. “He did it on his own.”
“Still my fault,” said Daedalus. “And now, look what happened. Rudy disappeared in a hot air balloon—and it’s because of my bicycle.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Miss Hastings. “Rudy was always headstrong. He was going to fly whether you helped him or not. But, before, when he fell … I was angry with you.”
“I am sorry—”
“But you kept the bike,” interrupted Darius. “You kept my father’s bike all this time.”
“Yes,” Daedalus said. “I just couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. I’ve fixed a thousand other bikes, but I never fixed that one, because of what happened. I spent years trying to understand my miscalculations. I was beginning to make some progress when you showed up. I was out on my bike, trying things out.”
“That’s when I saw you, up in the air.”
Daedalus nodded. “Yes, and then we met. I could see how bright you were right away. Then, when you told me about Gracie, everything seemed to pop into place. I fixed all the problems. Well, almost all the problems. We do have that little mystery of the disappearing bike.”
“What happened to your bike? Where did it go? I just heard a little pling and it was gone.”
“Hmm,” said Daedalus. “Pling? Not plonk or kapow?”
“Pling,” said Darius.
“I’m not quite sure,” mused Daedalus. “I think it entered another dimension. So it’s either in another part of the universe, or in another universe entirely. It’s pretty interesting. But that bike is gone, and I can’t fix it now.”
“Well, you fixed things for me,” said Darius. “And you’ve fixed things up with Miss Hastings, too. I never have understood why grown-ups talk about things from the past so much. Can’t you just stop worrying about things that happened a long time ago and be together now?”
Daedalus and Miss Hastings looked at each other and smiled.
“I believe that’s a good idea,” said Miss Hastings.
“So do I,” said Daedalus.
Daedalus and Darius and Miss Hastings talked until the sun was low in the sky. And then, after some planning, they decided Darius should spend one more night at Aunt Inga’s.
“It’s where your toothbrush is,” said Miss Hastings.
It was already getting dark when Darius got back to Aunt Inga’s house. He immediately noticed how quiet the house was, and realized that the television wasn’t on. Aunt Inga was in her room with the door closed.
A plate of tuna noodle casserole was waiting for him on the kitchen table. It was a little cold, but it tasted better than cookies and soda pop.
That night, Darius pulled the mattress from the basement up the stairs and laid it out in the backyard. It was a warm, clear night, and Darius lay awake in the dark, staring at the stars flung across the sky, listening to the crickets and cicadas.
The next morning Aunt Inga got up earlier than her usual ten o’clock. She wasn’t exactly nice to Darius, but not exactly mean either. Trying to be friendly, Darius sat watching television with Aunt Inga. Neither of them spoke. The show was boring, and Darius’s mind wandered. Sometimes, Aunt Inga glanced at Darius and opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again and went back to watching. Finally, she got up from her chair, turned off the television, and with a huge sigh, headed back to her bedroom.
Darius waited patiently. He knew visitors would be arriving soon.
Just before lunchtime, Daedalus and Miss Hastings showed up at Aunt Inga’s house on the tandem bicycle. Darius showed them into the living room. He knocked on the door of Aunt Inga’s room.
“Aunt Inga, someone is here to see you.”
His aunt opened her bedroom door. There were bags under her eyes. She hobbled across the living room and settled herself down in her big chair. She looked horrible.
“Yes,” she said, “what is it?”
“Aunt Inga,” said Darius, “Miss Hastings and Daedalus are planning to get married soon.” He paused, watching his aunt’s face. “They’ve invited me to come and live with them, like they were my grandparents.”
Darius couldn’t read the expression on Aunt Inga’s face. It might have been a smile. Or maybe a frown.
“That’s nice,” she said. She almost sounded like she meant it.
“The letter from my dad that Miss Hastings found means that you don’t have to worry about taking care of me anymore. But you are my aunt, and I thought … I mean, is it okay with you if I go?”
Aunt Inga didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at the floor.
Darius was jumping up and down inside, but he didn’t speak.
“Well, I don’t know,” Aunt Inga began. “I suppose it might be possible …”
Before Darius had a chance to say anything, Miss Hastings spoke up. “I know you must have gotten used to having someone around.”
“Well, not exactly, but sort of,” Aunt Inga said, without looking up.
“I’m sure Mrs. Gritbun will be happy to come by for a chat every day,” Miss Hastings continued. “With Anthony away at school, she’ll need lots of company. I think you two might go a long way toward cheering each other up.”
Aunt Inga still looked unconvinced. And then Darius offered something he had not planned to offer. “I’d come visit you, too, Aunt Inga,” he said. “Twice a week. At least that.”
She gave Darius a surprised look. “You would visit me?” she asked.
“If you want,” said Darius.
“A little visit once in a while might be nice,” Aunt Inga said. “But you must promise not to come before ten o’clock.”
“I promise.”
“And no books.”
“No ma’am.”
“And certainly no bicycles.”
“No bicycles.”
“Well,” his aunt said, “I suppose this arrangement might work.”
Darius’s heart soared. He stood up and jumped in the air. “Yippee!” he yelled. “Yippee, yippee! Thank you, thank you, Aunt Inga.” Before he realized what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around his aunt and gave her a big hug.
“Here now,” spluttered Aunt Inga. “You’ll mess up my dress. I knew this would happen. I give you an inch and you take a mile.” She pulled away from Darius, but he could see the tiniest trace of a smile on the corners of her mouth. “Be sure that you clean up all that clutter you left in the basement before you go,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Daedalus. “We’ll take very good care of Darius.”
“Good-bye,” said Miss Hastings.
“Well, what do you know,” said Aunt Inga. “I never thought this would happen.”
20
Time Will Tell
&nbs
p; Darius moved in with Daedalus and Miss Hastings. It took quite a bit of work to make room for everyone—they spent several days rearranging books and bicycle parts. Two months later, Darius’s two best friends were married in their backyard, amid the piles of bicycles.
Darius visited his aunt twice a week, sometimes more, and the Panforths occasionally invited Aunt Inga and Mrs. Gritbun over for dinner.
Over the months that followed, Aunt Inga and Darius actually became friends of a sort. I never would have believed that could have happened. Maybe you wouldn’t have either. A change of heart is one of the greatest of miracles. And while it is rare, it can happen almost anywhere, to almost anyone.
Darius and Daedalus continued repairing bikes, and soon they were doing a booming business. The yard was filled with even more parts of even more bicycles. They didn’t make much money, because most of their customers were children. Neither of them cared.
After some discussion between them, Darius and Daedalus decided that the flying bicycles needed more thought.
“I’m onto something,” said Daedalus, “but it seems a little dangerous to experiment with a seventh dimension when human beings are involved.”
“I’ll try it!” said Darius.
“Oh no, you won’t!” said Daedalus. “Miss Hastings would murder me.”
Darius laughed at the thought of Miss Hastings murdering anyone.
And what of Darius’s father, Rudy?
You are probably hoping that one day they will get a letter from him.
Or that he will show up on the doorstep, dressed in sealskins, with stories about life in Greenland.
Or that Darius, Daedalus, and Miss Hastings will ride off on their bikes and find him.
No, I’m sorry to say that Rudy Frobisher will not come back in this book. But stories go on, and there is more to this story than I have told you. Only time will tell.
For now, I’ll just say that Darius was happier than he had been for a long time. Sometimes at night, he and Daedalus would sit on the roof of the house and look at the stars. Daedalus would tell stories of the Greek gods and mortals, pointing out the different constellations: Cassiopeia, Orion, Heracles, and all the others that filled the sky with marvelous tales.
