52 - How I Learned to Fly Read Online Free Page A

louder. Louder. Jaws snapped. Tails swished back and forth.
The creatures scuttled over one another, eager to get to me.
    And then a big fat rat darted out to the front of the pack. It glared up at
me hungrily with glowing red eyes. It bared sharp fangs.
    I tried to back away. But I hit the wall.
    Nowhere to run.
    The rat uttered a shrill cry. It pulled back on its hind legs—and sprang
forward.

 
 
7
     
     
    “Noooo!” I screamed and tried to dodge away.
    The rat clawed at the bottom of my shorts.
    It held on for a second, gnashing its teeth. Then it lost its hold and slid
to the floor with a wet plop.
    Another rat leaped to attack.
    I thrashed my leg wildly—and kicked the rat across the room.
    Red eyes glowed up at me. The hissing grew to a shrill siren.
    I batted rats away with the old book. I swept my flashlight across the room,
frantically searching for a way out.
    There! A narrow staircase across the room!
    I ran for it. Stepping into the sea of rats. Stomping hard on them—flattening their
scraggly tails.
    Claws scraped against my bare legs as I ran. Two rats clung to my sneakers as
I charged up the stairs.
    I kicked the rats off. Heard their bodies thumping wetly onto the floor.
    Then I staggered the rest of the way up. Hurtled to the door. And out. Out
into the fresh air. Gasping. My heart pounding. Sucking in breath after breath
of the salty, ocean air.
    I ran all the way home. I didn’t stop until I came to my house. Panting hard,
I collapsed on the front lawn.
    I stared into the living-room window. The lamps glowed through the sheer
white drapes. I could see Mom and Dad inside.
    I started to go in—when I realized that I still clutched the book.
    Uh-oh. I knew that Mom and Dad would be upset if they knew I took something
that didn’t belong to me. Worse than that, they’d start asking me a thousand
questions:
    Where did you get the book?
    What were you doing in that abandoned house?
    Why weren’t you at the party?
    I can’t let them see it, I decided.
    My wet sneakers squeaked across the lawn as I made my way around back to the
garage.
    I stepped carefully inside. We have the most cluttered garage in town. My dad
likes to collect things. Lots of things. We can’t get our car inside the garage
anymore. We can’t even close the door.
    I made my way around a dentist’s spit-sink and the aluminum steps to Mrs. Green’s old swimming pool. I hid the book inside a
torn mattress, then went into the house.
    “Jack, is that you?” Mom called from the kitchen.
    “Uh-huh,” I answered, jogging upstairs before she saw me. I didn’t want to
explain my wet, muddy shorts. Shorts that weren’t even mine!
    “How was the party?” Mom called.
    “Um. Okay,” I called back. “I left a little early.”
     
    “We’ll be back tonight, Jack.” Dad met me on the front lawn. It was the next
morning, and Mom and Dad were getting ready to leave on an all-day trip.
    Dad patted me on the shoulder. “This is going to be our lucky trip. The BIG
one. The really BIG one. I can feel it.”
    Dad is always saying that. He’s a talent agent. But he doesn’t have any
really big acts. Nobody famous. Just a few actors with small parts. One plays a
train conductor on a TV show. Every week he has the same line. “All aboard.”
That’s it. “All aboard.” Week after week.
    And he is Dad’s most famous client.
    So Dad spends most of his time searching for the BIG one. The act that will
become famous and make Dad a lot of money.
    Today Mom and Dad were driving to Anaheim to listen to a new musical group.
    “I hope they aren’t crazy,” I said to Dad. Last week a real nut auditioned
for Dad. She played a Beethoven symphony by banging on her head. After two
notes, she knocked herself out—and Dad had to take her to the hospital.
    “No. This group sent me a tape.” Dad’s eyes lit up. “And they sound really
great.”
    Mom hurried out of the house and headed toward the car. “Come on, Ted,”