52 - How I Learned to Fly Read Online Free

I wasn’t
really hurt.
    I took a deep breath—and choked on the bitter smell of mildew. Yuck! I
could even taste it on my tongue.
    This was all Wilson’s fault!
    Wilson—always proving that he’s the best.
    Never giving me a break.
    Okay, okay. Forget about Wilson, I told myself. Calm down. You have to find a
way out of this disgusting basement.
    I stood up and searched for stairs, a door, a window. But I couldn’t see a
thing. Too dark. As if a heavy black blanket had been thrown over everything.
    My sneakers sank into the decaying floor as I made my way blindly through the
room.
    My knee bumped into something. A chair?
    I reached down and ran my hands over it. Yes, a chair.
    Good. If there’s a chair down here, maybe I can stand on it. Climb back up
into the kitchen. Or climb out a basement window.
    I moved slowly through the room. I sloshed through a deep puddle. The cold
water seeped through my sneakers.
    I’m going to get you for this, Wilson.
    I tripped over a table—and something crashed to the floor. I heard glass
shatter.
    And then I heard a splash.
    My heart skipped a beat.
    Another animal? Another mouse or rat?
    I didn’t want to think about it. My temples began to pound.
    How was I going to get out of here?
    Should I scream for help?
    Who would hear me down here? No one—that’s who.
    On trembling legs, I moved through the room. Hands out in front of me.
Groping in the dark.
    I stumbled into another table. I ran my hands over it. No—not a table. More
like a bench. A workbench. My hands brushed across its top. I felt a hammer, a
screwdriver, and—a candle!
    My fingers scrambled over the workbench, searching for a match to light it. I
groped my way across the entire workbench.
    No matches.
    I backed away from the bench—and my sneaker rolled over something round.
Something round—like a flashlight!
    I picked it up. Yes! A flashlight!
    My fingers shook as I fumbled for the switch.
    Please work. Please work. Please work.
    I flicked it on.
    A pale yellow beam of light reached weakly into the gloom.
    The flashlight was dim—but I could see!
    “I’m out of here!” I cheered.
    I swept the weak beam of light in front of me. I had fallen into a small
room. Thick cobwebs draped the peeling walls.
    A rusty washing machine and clothes dryer sat in one corner. A small, wooden
table and a smashed lamp lay on the floor in front of them.
    I moved the light closer—and saw a battered camp trunk. I ran my hand over
the lid. Yuck. It was covered with a thick layer of damp, smelly mold.
    The trunk’s rusted hinges creaked as I lifted the top. I pointed my
flashlight beam inside. Nothing in there. Nothing but an old book.
    I read the title out loud— “Flying Lessons.”
    I flipped through the yellowed pages, searching for pictures of airplanes. I
love airplanes. But there wasn’t a single plane inside.
    The pages were filled with old-fashioned drawings—of humans flying through
the air.
    People of all ages—men with white beards, women in long dresses, children
in funny, old clothing—all soaring through the sky.
    What a strange, old book.
    I flipped through more pages—until I heard another splash.
    I swept my flashlight over the floor—and gasped.
    “Ohhhhh. Nooooo.” A low wail escaped my lips.
    I moved the pale light back and forth, hoping I wasn’t seeing what I was
seeing.
    But even in the dim light, I could see the dark bodies, the tiny eyes glowing
red, the open-toothed jaws.
    Rats!
    Dozens of rats. Scuttling across the floor. Moving in on me.
    I leaped back.
    I gaped in horror as they closed in.
    Sharp toenails clicked against the floor. Scraggly tails swished through the
filthy puddles as they scurried forward.
    A gray sea of rats.
    I froze in terror. I gripped the flashlight tightly to stop it from shaking.
    The rats snapped their jaws. They began to hiss. The ugly sound echoed off
the damp walls of the small room.
    Dozens of tiny red eyes glowed up at me.
    The hissing grew