52 - How I Learned to Fly by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

for, Jack? Open it!” she cried impatiently.
    “Weird. It’s closed,” I said, confused. “The garage door is never closed.”
    “So—open it!” Mia demanded.
    I reached for the handle.
    I tugged up the garage door—and cried out in shock.

 
 
20
     
     
    Gone!
    Everything—gone. The dentist’s spit-sink. Mrs. Green’s pool steps. The old
mattress. All gone.
    I stared at the empty garage in shock.
    “Ohhhh, noooo. Dad cleaned out the garage,” I moaned unhappily. “Mia—I
can’t teach you how to fly. The book—is gone.”
    “You read the book, Jack. You have to remember what it said!” Mia protested.
“I want to FLY! Think! You’ve got to remember!”
    “It’s no use,” I told her. “We need the secret ingredient. It was in an
envelope. Inside the book. It’s gone.”
    Mia shook her head and uttered an angry groan.
    Then a look of calm came over her face. “That’s okay, Jack. Maybe it’s just
as well. This flying thing is kind of scary.”
    “So—you’re not angry at me?” I asked her.
    “No,” she replied. “It really wasn’t your fault. You know what I think,
Jack?”
    I shook my head. “No. What?”
    “I think you shouldn’t fly anymore. Or maybe you should tell your parents
about it. I mean, it’s not normal. I have a very bad feeling about it.”
    I shrugged.
    “Jack—I’m not kidding. I don’t think you should fly anymore. It’s not
safe.”
    “But I don’t want to stop,” I protested. “It’s so much fun. It’s awesome.
Totally awesome up there. Besides, what could happen?”
     
    That night after dinner, I hurried to my room to work on a new superhero
drawing.
    I drew the outline of his figure. I was going to call him Captain Arrow.
    I shoved my chair away from my desk. Stared out the window for a while.
Returned to my drawing.
    I drew a purple leather quiver over Captain Arrow’s shoulder—to hold his
powerful crimson arrows.
    I got up. Looked outside again. I don’t know—drawing superheros seemed kind
of boring now.
    I left my room to find Dad. To ask him to shoot some baskets outside with me.
    I found Dad—and Mom—snoozing on the couch in the living room.
    I called Ethan and Ray to see if they wanted to play—but they couldn’t. They both had homework to do.
    Tiptoeing through the hall, I left the house through the back door. I stood
in the backyard and gazed up at the stars. It was a perfect night. Warm. Not a
cloud in the sky.
    A perfect night for a short flight over Malibu.
    I glanced around—to make sure no one was watching. Then I soared up into
the night sky.
    Over the rooftops. Over the trees. Over the beach.
    I took a deep breath. The ocean air smelled so fresh, so sweet up here.
    A light breeze blew through my hair.
    So peaceful. So quiet.
    So free. Soaring high. Gazing out. Surrounded by nothing but twinkling stars.
    I picked up speed. The wind rushed at my face. My T-shirt rippled against my
chest.
    The stars streamed by. The ocean rolled darkly beneath me.
    I gazed down at the Malibu Hills. Then headed toward Los Angeles. I flew over
the city. The lights below sparkled for miles.
    I flew faster. Barrel-rolled to the left. Then to the right. Then headed into
a loop, flying upside down.
    Awesome!
    Totally awesome!
    I’m so lucky! I can sail! Glide! Soar!
    “I can FLYYYY!” I whooped, spinning in the air.
    I glided for a while on my back, gazing up at the stars. Trying to identify
the constellations. Then I spun around and peered down—into total darkness.
    No porch lights. No street lamps. No headlights from cars.
    No houses. No buildings.
    Total darkness.
    A wave of panic swept over me. How did this happen? Where is the city? Where
am I?
    “How long have I been flying?” I groaned. “How far have I flown?”
    I didn’t know.
    I swooped down, searching for a dim light somewhere. But all I saw was
darkness. Complete darkness.
    I turned around—heading back home, I hoped.
    Swooping lower. Searching for a familiar