How I Learned to Fly

by R. L. Stine

  My heart began to pound.

  What am I going to tell them?

  I held my breath and listened some more.

  “I know! I know!” Mom exclaimed. “We have to stay calm. You’ll find a new client soon. Someone with real talent. I just know it.”

  I breathed a long sigh of relief.

  They didn’t notice.

  Next time, I have to be more careful, I promised myself. Much more careful.

  Mia is right. Flying can be really dangerous. Especially if you don’t know where you’re flying!

  I tiptoed to my room and closed the door.

  The phone rang.

  “Are you ready for the big race tomorrow?” It was Wilson.

  “Huh? What race?” I asked.

  “I told Mr. Grossman that we’re going to put on a race for the whole school tomorrow,” Wilson declared.

  “What kind of race?” I asked him.

  “A race they’ll never forget!”

  “Are you crazy?” I yanked Wilson aside in gym class the next morning. “We can’t race!” I screamed.

  “Aw. Come on. Be a good sport.” Wilson grinned. “You’re just mad because you know you’re going to lose.”

  On the other side of the gym, I could hear Mr. Grossman announcing the race to the class. “A special race,” I heard him say. “Wilson promises we’re all in for a big surprise!”

  I ran my hand through my hair.

  “Wilson, don’t you see what you’ve done?” My voice grew high. “When everyone finds out that we can fly, our lives will be ruined!”

  Wilson shrugged, then bent down to tie his sneaker. “I don’t know what you’re so worried about. This is going to be way cool!”

  I glanced around the gym. The empty gym. The entire class had emptied outside, waiting for the race to begin.

  “Ready, boys?” Mr. Grossman popped his head in the doorway.

  “Ready!” Wilson called back.

  Wilson tugged me through the halls. The empty halls.

  “Come on, Jack. The whole school is out there!”

  The whole school. Out there.

  Every kid in Malibu Middle School was going to watch us fly. This was a total disaster.

  If we went ahead with this, I knew that my life would never be the same again.

  We stepped onto the playground. I squinted in the bright sunlight. Squinted at the crowd of kids, huddled along the running track—waiting for the race to start.

  Someone tugged on my T-shirt sleeve.

  It was Mia. “Jack, why are you doing this?” she asked, her eyes wide with fear. “Wilson told me you’re going to fly.”

  “I—I don’t want to,” I stammered. “But I can’t do anything about it. I have no choice.”

  Mia shielded her eyes with her hand and glanced over at Wilson. Her ruby-red heart ring sparkled in the sun.

  We both watched Wilson as he stretched out at the starting line. “I’m so worried about the two of you,” she said, her eyes locked on Wilson.

  I gazed into the crowd.

  Kids shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. Watching. Waiting.

  I wanted to run away.

  Run home and hide.

  “Hey, Jack!” Ray called out from the crowd. “Go for it! You can beat him!” Ethan stood next to him, pumping his fist in the air.

  “Wilson is ready.” Mr. Grossman jogged over to me. “How about you, Jack?”

  The kids began to chant. “Race! Race! Race!”

  My temples were throbbing.

  My T-shirt felt wet against my skin—drenched with sweat.

  What was I going to do?

  I had to race.

  I knew I had no choice.

  I had to race—and I had to win.

  I stepped up to Wilson. “Ready, Jackie?” He grinned his horrible Wilson grin.

  I nodded.

  Mr. Grossman raised the starting flag. “On your marks. Get set. GO!”

  Wilson and I took off.

  We shot into the air.

  With my arms straight out in front of me, I blasted ahead. I soared higher, higher—and zoomed to the other end of the playground, leaving Wilson far behind.

  Yes!

  I was winning!

  Finally!

  I was finally beating him!

  I turned in midair, dipped, and headed back to the other end of the playground. I glanced behind me. Wilson was soaring fast. Catching up.

  He sailed alongside me. “See you, Jackie!” He smirked. Then he flew ahead.

  Oh, no, you don’t, Wilson. Not again.

  I held my body straight as an arrow—and jetted forward.

  We flew side by side now. I could see the muscles in his face straining as he tried to pick up speed.

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t pull ahead of me.

  The other end of the playground was coming up fast. With my eyes trained to the finish line, I soared with all my strength.

  We reached the line at the same time. I dropped to the ground. “A tie!” I cried out breathlessly. “It’s a tie!”

  Wilson hadn’t won!

  “Hey, Wilson? Wilson?” I searched the school grounds.

  Then I glanced up.

  There he was, hovering over my head. “Lap number two!” he cried. And took off.

  I sprinted into the air.

  Too late.

  Wilson finished the second lap—and won the race.

  * * *

  “Nice going, Jackie,” Wilson clapped me on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you—to lose!” he hooted.

  “That wasn’t fair—” I started.

  “Hey—what’s their problem?” he interrupted me, pointing to the crowd of kids.

  The quiet crowd.

  No cheers.

  No clapping.

  They stared at us in stunned silence.

  I turned to Mr. Grossman. His jaw hung open. He gaped at us—speechless.

  I slowly walked over to Ray and Ethan, staring into their unsmiling faces. “So, guys. What did you think?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you could fly?” Ray’s face broke out into a wide grin.

  “I—I wanted to surprise you!” I said, relieved.

  “Awesome! Totally awesome!” Ethan shouted. “Can you teach us how?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t,” I apologized. I told them the whole story—about how I found the book and lost it—as we headed back into school.

  “Our basketball team will win every game now!” Ray exclaimed. “Forget about slam dunks! You’ll be the first player ever to do a fly-dunk!”

  Ray and Ethan were really excited about my flying.

  But, later, as I walked to my classroom, I could feel the stares from the other kids. Hear their whispers. Everyone was talking about me. Some shrank back as I approached.

  They were afraid of me!

  That afternoon, I walked through the halls with my head down. I couldn’t stand all the whispers, all the stares.

  “Jack!” The school nurse darted from her office and snatched me out of the hall. “There are some people here who want to meet you.”

  Two men and two women stood stiffly in the nurse’s office. One man and one woman were dressed in business suits. The other two wore khaki pants and T-shirts. They smiled warmly at me.

  “These people are scientists from the university,” the nurse started to explain. “They’ve heard about your … uh … special talent. And they want to examine you and Wilson.”

  I took a step back.

  One of the men moved toward me. “If you really can fly, think of how useful you can be to our government—perhaps as a secret weapon against our enemies.”

  I swallowed hard.

  The woman in the khaki pants stuck out her hand. “Come with us, Jack.” She shot a nervous glance at the others. “Nothing bad will happen to you.”

  The others peered at me over their eyeglasses. They nodded eagerly in agreement.

  “We just want to look you over. You
know. Do a few experiments on you. In our lab.”

  “NO! I don’t want to be a lab specimen. I don’t want to be a secret weapon!” I shouted at them.

  Startled by my cries, the scientists leaped back—and I bolted from the room.

  “Jack, come back!” the school nurse called after me.

  I raced frantically through the halls. Smashing into kids. Shoving them out of my way.

  “Jack, we won’t hurt you!” I heard one of the scientists call.

  With my head down, I charged ahead, zigzagging through the crowded halls. Elbowing the kids who got in my way.

  “Hey, watch it!” Angry voices trailed me as I burst through the school doors and jumped down the steps.

  I ran all the way home. I didn’t stop. I didn’t glance back. I ran hard—even though my lungs felt as if they were about to burst.

  I opened my front door with a bang. Then slammed it shut and leaned against it, gasping for breath.

  “Jack?” Dad called from the living room.

  Why was Dad home in the middle of the afternoon?

  I walked in to the living room—and found both my parents waiting for me.

  Dad stood with his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. “Jack, our phone has been ringing all afternoon,” he said sternly. “We heard about you. About what you did in school today.”

  I glanced over at Mom. She gave a solemn nod.

  “You are in a lot of trouble.” Dad sounded really angry now.

  I gulped. “Why? What—what are you going to do?”

  “What do you think we should do, Jack?” Dad paced back and forth in front of me. “We can’t believe you didn’t tell us sooner.”

  “Sorry …” I muttered. “I mean, I wanted to tell you I could fly. But …”

  Dad’s expression changed. His eyes flashed with excitement. “If you really can fly, you’re going to be the hottest act in the country. You’re going to be a superstar, Jack. You’re going to make millions!”

  Mom’s face broke into a wide smile.

  “We finally found it!” Dad said to her. “I can’t believe it. All this time we’ve been searching everywhere—and it was right under our own roof. We finally found the BIG act!”

  * * *

  “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the grand opening of Marv’s Malibu Motors!” Marvin Milstein stood on a towering platform. He shouted into a bullhorn, gathering a huge crowd in front of his new car lot.

  I stood inside the showroom. I peeked outside—watching the crowd grow. Hundreds of people jammed into the parking lot. Hundreds more tried to shove their way in.

  They crammed in tightly. Shoulder to shoulder under the hot sun. And waited.

  Waited for me.

  The Amazing Flying Boy.

  “YES!” Marv continued to shout. “The Amazing Flying Boy is here! In just a moment, you will see him fly over our new shipment of Silver Hawks.

  “The Silver Hawk!” Marv pointed across the lot to a shiny, silver car turning slowly on a revolving platform. “The car that soars so smoothly, you’ll swear the wheels never touch the ground.”

  The people packed themselves in tighter—every inch of ground taken up by the crowd.

  I could hear the buzz of the crowd over Marv’s bullhorn.

  “Where is the Flying Boy? Can he really fly?” I heard a little kid cry.

  A lump formed in my throat.

  Mom came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You look great, Jack!”

  I stared down at the costume Mom had made for me. A silvery superhero costume. Metallic sneakers. And a shiny silver cape.

  “Can you believe this crowd?” Dad exclaimed. “Ten TV stations are out there with their news crews. And tons of reporters—from every newspaper in the state. They’re all here to see you, Jack!”

  “I don’t know, Dad.” I stared out at the growing crowd. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “A good idea? No. I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s a great idea! It’s an unbelievable idea!” he cried. “And it’s just the start, Jack. Soon you’ll have your own TV show. Your own movies. Your own action figures!”

  The mob outside grew impatient.

  “ARE … YOU … READY?” Malibu Marv shouted into the bullhorn, pumping up the crowd.

  “YES!” Their reply thundered in my ears.

  “It’s time, Jack!” Dad’s eyes lit up with excitement.

  I was supposed to fly over the car lot, carrying an advertising banner. Dad handed it to me. It read: FLY WITH THE SILVER HAWK. ONLY AT MALIBU MARV’S.

  I stepped outside and climbed the platform steps to take my place next to Marv.

  I stared down at the crowd. At their waiting faces. At the doubt in their eyes.

  Then I took off.

  And the crowd let out a startled gasp.

  I flew around the lot carrying the banner, staring down at the people as they gaped up at me.

  “He’s flying! He’s really flying!” I heard someone shout.

  I searched the faces below—trying to find Mia, Ethan, or Ray. I hadn’t seen them in days. I soared around the entire car lot, but I couldn’t spot them in the crowd.

  “You’re seeing a miracle, folks!” Marv’s amplified voice floated up to me. “And our Silver Hawk prices are a miracle, too!”

  * * *

  The next morning, Dad brought in reporters from Time and Newsweek to interview me. The reporters asked me tons of questions: When did you learn to fly? Can you teach other kids how to do it? What was in the secret recipe you ate? What were the magic words you chanted? Then their photographers snapped pictures of me flying around the backyard.

  People and TV Guide showed up next. They asked the same questions. Took the same pictures.

  Mia called. She asked me to go skating with her that afternoon. I wanted to go, but I couldn’t. Someone from the Wall Street Journal was coming to interview me.

  I wanted to tell them to talk to TV Guide—get the answers from them. But I knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t like that. They were working really hard to get me all these interviews.

  “See you later!” I called to Mom and Dad the next morning. I was going to the park to shoot some hoops with Ray and Ethan.

  “Whoa! Wait up!” Dad charged in to the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

  “To play basketball with my friends. I won’t be home late,” I told him.

  “Sorry, Jack. But you can’t go.”

  “Why not?” I asked, confused. “I don’t have any interviews today.”

  “Because basketball isn’t the right kind of exercise for a flying superhero!” Dad patted me on the back. “You have to do sit-ups, push-ups, run some laps—build up your strength and stamina to fly your best!”

  He pushed me toward the door. “You have to work out every day, Jack. Every day. Now, let’s get started. I’ll work with you in the backyard.”

  I didn’t see Ray or Ethan or Mia that whole week. I had more interviews to do. And exercises. And costume fittings. And I did a flying appearance at the opening of a new restaurant in Santa Monica.

  Finally Saturday arrived. Mom and Dad said it was my day off. No interviews. No exercises. No jobs. I could do whatever I wanted.

  I got up early to go Rollerblading with Mia. As I headed out the door, Mom stopped me. “Jack, you can’t go out like that!”

  “Like what?” I asked, staring down at my T-shirt and cutoff jeans.

  “Like that,” she said, pointing to my clothes. “You’re a superstar now. You have to wear your flying costume when you go out. So your fans won’t be disappointed.”

  “But, Mom!” I protested. “I can’t wear my cape to go skating. No way I’m going to wear silver tights in the park!”

  I called Mia and told her I couldn’t go. I shuffled glumly into the living room and turned on the TV.

  I knew that flying in front of the whole school was a big mistake.

  I knew it would ruin my life. I knew it!


  I hadn’t seen my friends in weeks. I’d probably never see them again!

  I’m going to spend my whole life flying around in a dumb costume, never having any fun! I realized.

  I flipped aimlessly through the channels.

  I flipped and flipped, watching the programs flash by on the screen.

  And then I stopped—when I saw Wilson.

  Wilson on TV!

  Wilson—wearing a really cool superhero costume that sparkled with neon glitter.

  My eyes grew wide as I watched him. He soared around a mountaintop, rescuing people off its steep cliffs.

  “We will return to Wonder Wilson and His Amazing Rescues in just a moment!” the TV announcer said.

  Huh? Wonder Wilson and His Amazing Rescues?

  I shook my head.

  “I’m doing restaurant openings—and Wilson already has his own TV show!” I wailed.

  Can’t I EVER beat Wilson? EVER?

  I heard a knock on the door. I was glad to leave the room before Wonder Wilson came back on TV.

  I opened the door—and saw three serious-looking men in green uniforms standing there. Army uniforms.

  “Jack Johnson?” one of them asked sternly.

  I nodded yes.

  “Good.” He reached out his hand. “You’ll have to come with us.”

  I stood in the middle of a drab green room.

  An army lab.

  With no windows.

  The room smelled like a doctor’s office. You know. That heavy alcohol smell.

  I glanced over at the door. A solid steel bolt sealed it shut.

  A chair with suction cups stuck all over the back and seat stood in one corner of the room. Electrical wires streamed from each cup.

  I imagined that was what a prison electric chair looked like. No way I’d ever sit on it!

  My heart began to pound as a group of army scientists in white lab coats circled me. They stared at me, their eyes moving up and down my body. They wrote on clipboards they held in their hands. Then they stared at me some more.

  “Okay, Jack. We are going to perform a few tests. Are you ready?” one of the scientists asked.

  “No!” I shouted. “I am not ready. I want to go home!”

  “Sorry, Jack,” the scientist said. “We can’t let you go just yet. Now—please come with us.”