I grinned. If those mean kids thought Starwood Elementary had a ghost, I was happy to give them one.
I did circles around the bullies, going so fast, all they could see was a ring of smoke.
The first-grade bullies froze in place.
I ran off and slipped into my classroom just as the second bell rang. I felt good until I looked at my hand and saw I was still holding Amy’s pink sunglasses. Could I sneak back out to return them? Not a chance.
“Freddie!” Mrs. Blaine called. “Please sit down. Class is about to begin.”
As usual, we had math first thing. What a rotten way to start the day!
Mrs. Blaine pulled me away from my desk to sit at a computer in the back of the classroom.
“Try this math game,” Mrs. Blaine whispered, while the rest of my class started on a worksheet. “It will help you understand multiplication better.”
A computer game was way more fun than getting a headache from a sheet of numbers. I got to wear headphones and hear a happy voice tell me “good job” every few minutes.
The only bad part was Geraldo’s face staring at me when we went out for recess.
“Why is Mrs. Blaine being so nice to you?” he asked. “No one else gets to play with the computers during class. They’re for free time.”
Playing on a computer was great. Telling my friends why, was not.
“Mrs. Blaine called my mom. She says I’m not learning math the way other kids do. I need extra help.”
“Have you been failing tests?” Maria asked. “How many?”
I raised four fingers. That was easier than saying it out loud.
Geraldo whistled. “Whew! I thought you were smart, Freddie.”
“I did too,” Maria said.
“Don’t pick on him,” Jason defended me. “Freddie is smart about other things.”
For a minute, Geraldo and Maria looked at Jason like he had just stepped out of a spaceship. I bit my lip, waiting to hear what would come next.
Geraldo shrugged. “I wish I could play with computers during math.”
“No reason to be mean,” Jason said firmly.
“He’s right,” Maria agreed.
And that was the end of it. If only things were so easy for Amy.
I looked across the playground and saw Gio. If he was there, Amy might be nearby. I could return her sunglasses.
I arrived in a puff of smoke. Gio didn’t see me right away. He was with two other kids, busy doing something I didn’t like. He was staring at Amy. She was holding her right hand over her eyes.
“Just show us,” Gio said. “We won’t hurt you.”
“Show you what?” I asked.
That was enough to break up the circle. Amy ran off like a squirrel. Gio turned to me.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“Why did you?” I asked back.
“Everyone says Amy’s eyes are different. I wanted to see.”
“You weren’t being nice,” I told Gio.
“Lo siento.” Gio hung his head.
Gio was not a mean kid. He was just curious. The bad thing was that I understood. I was curious too.
6. Amy Is Fast!
There were still a few minutes of recess left. Enough time for a quick zoom around the school to find Amy and return her sunglasses.
I checked the library and the nurse’s office. No Amy.
I searched the classrooms and the gym. I even peeked into Mrs. Connor’s office to see if Amy was there. She wasn’t. Big relief. No one likes the principal’s office, not even superheroes.
Where could Amy be? The only places I didn’t check were the girls’ bathrooms. If Amy was hiding in one, she was safe from the bullies and from me.
Recess was over, and kids were coming in through the doors from the playground. I headed back to my class. On the way, I passed Room 12. That’s when I finally saw Amy! She dashed around the corner and into her classroom. ¡Muy rápido!
That got me thinking. How fast was Amy? Every time I saw her, she disappeared before I could blink. Did Starwood Elementary have two kids with super speed?
What did Gio mean when he said Amy’s eyes were different? Did they give her a special power? Was Amy shy, or was she hiding a superpower behind her sunglasses? I took them out of my pocket to look them over. Could they be a superhero mask like my silver goggles?
I worried the whole afternoon. First, about Amy. Then, about Mr. Newton. Would I like extra math lessons? Was Mr. Newton nice? Not all teachers are nice. Sometimes they make you do more work than your head can handle. Sometimes they frown and sigh.
By the time the final bell rang, I was not feeling like a boy with super speed. My feet dragged on the ground. Mrs. Connor spotted me in the hallway going to Room 12. She said I looked like I was carrying cement.
“Don’t be afraid, Freddie. Mr. Newton is a good teacher. You’ll like him.”
How did the principal know what was going on? Did Mrs. Blaine talk to her too? How many people knew my brain had trouble figuring out math?
“A learning problem can slow you down a little,” Mrs. Connor said. “But it doesn’t have to stop you from doing well in life.”
She put her hand on my shoulder and walked me all the way into Room 12, making sure I didn’t escape. Mrs. Connor never takes chances with me.
Mr. Newton was in the back of the room with a bunch of brightly colored plastic blocks. They were different shapes and sizes.
“Sit down, Freddie,” Mr. Newton said. “Let’s learn how numbers work.”
Math made a lot more sense with blocks than on a piece of paper. Block counting was like finger counting, except I didn’t have to worry about running out of things to touch.
Mr. Newton explained that some people need to connect numbers to something real.
“Stick with me, Freddie,” he said. “I know lots of tricks to make math easier.”
We were having a good time until Mrs. Connor charged into the room.
“Mr. Newton!” Mrs. Connor was breathless. “Have you seen Amy Escobar?”
He looked at his watch. “Not since the final bell. Why?”
“Her mother just called. Amy did not come home from school.”
Mrs. Connor shook her hands up and down like she was trying to dry them off.
“I’m sorry, Freddie. Your lesson must be cut short.”
That was okay. Mr. Newton and I could play with blocks another time. Today, I had a chance to be a hero.
I left the building with Mr. Newton and Mrs. Connor. They thought I was heading up the steps to my own home in Starwood Park Apartments. They were wrong. I was on my way to find Amy.
7. Where Is Amy?
The first thing I did was take a loop around Starwood Park Apartments. Amy was supposed to go up the steps and down the short path to the buildings. If something had made her change her mind, maybe there was a clue on one of the sidewalks.
BINGO! There was a clue! Except I didn’t like it much. Amy had dropped her pink lunch bag again. Now I had two things to return—her sunglasses and her lunch bag.
Things were not making sense. Why did Amy keep dropping her lunch bag? Why didn’t she go home? And where was she? I rubbed the buttons on my purple wristband so I could use my super hearing. I needed all my powers working.
I kept running in circles until finally my super hearing helped me out. STOMP! It was the sound of a foot coming down on the sidewalk. On the other side of Building H, someone was shouting and stamping the ground.
“WHERE AM I?”
I recognized that voice. It was the same voice that had yelled at me in the rain, from under a pink umbrella. Amy!
But when I caught up with her, she started running away.
“Wait!” I called. “I have your lunch bag and your sunglasses.”
That made Amy stop. “My sunglasses?” she said, without turning around. “Give them back!” She stretched out her hand.
I gave her the glasses.
“The grown-ups are look
ing for you,” I said. “Your mom called the school.”
“Well, I’m looking for them!” Amy pushed her sunglasses onto her face and stamped her foot again. “This place has too many buildings.”
It was true. Starwood Park had ten buildings that all looked the same and lots of sidewalks. It would be easy to get lost if you were a first grader who didn’t know your way around.
“Why didn’t you go straight home?” I asked.
“The bullies,” she answered. “I was trying to get away.”
“And you went in the wrong direction,” I finished.
Now I understood. Amy probably dropped her lunch bag to go faster. She was a good runner, but she didn’t have super speed.
“What building do you live in? Can I show you the way home?”
I may not know how to count without blocks or fingers, but I do know how to get around Starwood Park. On the way to 15C, where Amy lived, we talked.
“You’re a lot nicer than the other kids,” she told me.
“Are they all mean?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “Some kids just stare.”
“At what?” I was still curious, just like Gio.
“My eyes,” Amy said. “They don’t match.”
“Match?” I had never heard of that. “What do you mean?”
“I have one blue eye and one brown eye.”
So that’s what Amy was hiding.
When we arrived at 15C, Amy’s mother ran out. There was the usual crying and shouting that happens when kids come home late. I got out of there.
I went straight to Mr. Vaslov’s toolshed. He was always a good person to talk things over with.
“Are you sure you have this right, Freddie?” he asked. “Amy’s eyes may not be the problem.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Amy sees perfectly well,” Mr. Vaslov told me.
“I’m glad,” I said.
“And she sees how other people look at her,” Mr. Vaslov added.
“Because her eyes are different?”
Mr. Vaslov nodded his bushy gray head.
“That’s not fair,” I said.
“No,” Mr. Vaslov agreed.
I remembered how I felt about needing extra math help. Me sentí mal.
“Everybody is different in some way,” I said.
“True,” Mr. Vaslov answered. “Amy needs to know she’s not alone. She needs to know others care for her just the way she is.”
That’s what Jason did when he told Geraldo to stop teasing me. Could I do that for Amy? I wasn’t sure.
8. Sliding to the Rescue
At school the next morning, Mrs. Connor called me into her office. We sat down at a round table, opposite each other.
“Don’t look so scared, Freddie,” she said. “You’re not in trouble.”
Then what was I doing there?
“I mean it, Freddie,” Mrs. Connor said. “Please relax.”
Why do grown-ups tell you to relax when they do things to make you nervous?
“I want to talk about Amy,” Mrs. Connor began. “You found her yesterday.”
I didn’t let go of my breath. If Mrs. Connor wanted to know how I’d heard Amy from the other side of a building, this was going to be tricky.
“Are you friends?” Mrs. Connor asked.
“Sort of. She just moved here.”
Mrs. Connor nodded. “Amy hasn’t had time to make friends.”
“And kids are being mean to her,” I added.
“Those students have been disciplined.” Mrs. Connor frowned. “We will be watching them.”
“They shouldn’t have made fun of Amy because she’s different,” I said.
“You’re right,” Mrs. Connor agreed. “So what can we do to help?”
All I could think of was what Mr. Vaslov had said.
“We need to show Amy she’s not alone. That it’s okay. Nobody needs to match.”
As soon as I said that, Mrs. Connor jumped out of her chair and clapped her hands like she’d won a prize.
“GREAT IDEA, FREDDIE!”
She picked up a paper off her desk. “Take a look at this!”
It was a flyer for something called “Two Different Shoes Day.” I liked the picture, which showed a smiling girl wearing one green sneaker and one blue sneaker.
“This has been on my to-do list for a while,” Mrs. Connor explained. “What do you think?”
“Of what?”
Sometimes grown-ups get excited about stuff and forget to tell kids what they’re talking about.
“Two Different Shoes Day,” Mrs. Connor said. “A day to celebrate being different, being an individual, and not being the same as everyone else.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. Amy might feel more comfortable with her eyes if she saw everyone else at Starwood Elementary not matching either. But I couldn’t do it.
“Does it have to be shoes?” I asked Mrs. Connor.
She looked surprised. “Why?”
I stared at the floor. It wasn’t just that I loved my superpowered purple sneakers. I didn’t have two different pairs of shoes.
“Could it be socks?” I asked. “Everybody has more than one color of socks.”
Mrs. Connor’s eyes flashed for a moment. She smiled.
“Of course!” Mrs. Connor said. “Socks would make it easier for everyone to participate.”
The next Friday, we had “Two Different Socks Day” at Starwood Elementary. Lots of kids wore crazy, colorful socks with candy canes or cats. And if you’d forgotten, Mrs. Connor passed out unmatched socks at the afternoon assembly, so nobody was left out.
After talking through the microphone for a little bit about liking people just the way they are, Mrs. Connor put on some music and let us all dance in our socks.
“¡Me encanta esto!” Maria shouted, waving her arms.
We all loved it. Even Amy. I saw her twirling in the corner, wearing one striped sock and one polka-dotted sock. But she was dancing by herself. That didn’t seem right.
SLIP! SLIDE! SLIP! SLIDE!
My special zapatos were back in the classroom. I had to slide to the rescue, not zoom. This time, I didn’t bump into anyone.
“Hi, Freddie!” Amy’s eyes twinkled. She was looking straight at me.
Jason followed me across the gym. So did Maria and Geraldo. Gio from Amy’s class joined us. Soon, a whole group was swinging to the music together.
Don’t Miss Freddie’s Other Adventures!
One day Freddie Ramos comes home from school and finds a strange box just for him. What’s inside?
HC 978–0–8075–9480–3 • PB 978–0–8075–9479–7
In this sequel, Freddie has shoes that give him super speed. It’s hard to be a superhero and a regular kid at the same time, especially when your shoes give you even more power!
PB 978–0–8075–9483–4
Freddie’s super-speedy adventures continue—now he has superhero duties at school!
PB 978–0–8075–9484–1
When Freddie’s zapatos go missing, how can he use his Zapato Power?
HC 978–0–8075–9485–8 • PB 978–0–8075–9486–5
There’s a blizzard in Starwood Park—but the weather can’t stop a thief! It’s up to Freddie and his Zapato Power to save the day!
HC 978–0–8075–9487–2 • PB 978–0–8075–9496–4
What happens when Freddie outgrows his zapatos?
HC 978–0–8075–9497–1 • PB 978–0–8075–9499–5
How will Freddie learn to use his new super hearing without becoming a super snoop?
HC 978–0–8075–9500–8 • PB 978–0–8075–9542–8
Jacqueline Jules is the author of forty books, including Freddie Ramos Takes Off, a Cybils Award winner, and Never Say a Mean Word Again, a Sydney Taylor Honor Book. She lives in northern Virginia, just outside of Washington, DC. A former school librarian, she loves to interact with young readers through author visits and Skype. Visit her at www.jacquelinejules.
com.
Miguel Benítez likes to describe himself as a “part-time daydreamer and a full-time doodler.” He lives with his wife and children in England.
Freddie Ramos Adds It All Up Page 2
