Freddie Ramos Springs into Action by Jacqueline Jules Page B

the hoop. That’s what a basketball player does.

    â€œI quit!” Geraldo shouted, when I got my thirtieth point. “The rest of us don’t have a chance!”
    P.E. wasn’t any better than recess that day. Mr. Gooley, our gym teacher, took us outside to practice the fifty-yard dash.
    â€œFreddie!” Mr. Gooley hollered. “You can’t run across the field before I blow the whistle. It’s not fair.”
    Zapato Power was the best thing on earth when I was alone. But when I was with my friends, it felt a little like cheating.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Freddie?” Mr. Vaslov asked me after school on Monday. “You’ve lost your superhero smile.”
    We sat down on the steps of his toolshed. Mr. Vaslov listened carefully as I explained the problem.
    â€œYour shoes need an on-off switch.” Mr. Vaslov patted my shoulder.
    â€œThat’s a great idea!”
    Mr. Vaslov stroked his chin, thinking. “Now’s the time to add improvements, while I’m still developing and testing the shoes.”
    â€œAnd trying to make a second pair,” I added.
    â€œRight again, Freddie.” Mr. Vaslov chuckled. “I still haven’t figured out how to make my invention work for anybody but you.”
    â€œBut what about controls? Do you think you can make them?” I asked.
    Mr. Vaslov leaned down and touched the silver wings on the sides of my shoes. His face looked like my mom’s when she’s trying to decide if she can buy new clothes for me.
    â€œGive me a few days to come up with something, Freddie. I’ll do the best I can.”

4. Inventions Take Time

    I’m not the most patient guy. Every afternoon, I knocked on Mr. Vaslov’s toolshed. He opened the door halfway to talk to me.
    â€œAre you finished?”
    â€œNot yet,” Mr. Vaslov answered. “But I have a great idea.”
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    â€œA wristband with a button you can press.”
    â€œSounds great! When will it be ready?”
    â€œInventions take time, Freddie.” Mr. Vaslov gently closed the door.
    The days went by slowly. I got tired of watching my friends play basketball at recess while I pretended to have a sore ankle. And Mr. Gooley got tired of my excuses about why I couldn’t run during P.E.
    â€œWhat hurts today, Freddie?” Mr. Gooley asked, when I came up to him, holding my hand over my left ear.

    Mr. Gooley let me sit on the bench again, but I could tell he was getting suspicious. I didn’t have any body parts left to complain about. Keeping my super speed a secret was taking a lot of brainwork. It’s not easy to come up with good excuses.
    â€œMr. Vaslov!” I knocked on the toolshed door a week later. “Is my on-off switch working yet?”
    For the first time, no one answered. I knocked again, louder and harder. The door pushed open. I saw a bunch of wires and a purple wristband on the table. Was that the wristband Mr. Vaslov was making for me?
    I stood outside the toolshed for a few minutes, debating if I should go inside when Mr. Vaslov wasn’t there. Then, I heard crying.
    â€œWAAAAAGH!”
    Who was in trouble? From the moment I got my purple zapatos, I’d been watching out for chances to be a hero. Once, I saved Gio’s puppy from a speeding car. I saved his basketball, too, after Mrs. Tran threw it out the window. But being a superhero meant helping people all the time.
    â€œWAAAAAGH!” The sound was behind me, way up near my apartment, 29G.
    I couldn’t resist. I turned around.

    In half a blink, I was standing in front of Gio. His crying was a lot louder and slobbery in person than it was from far away.
    â€œMy ball,” he wailed, “the one Mr. Vaslov gave me. It’s gone!”
    This wasn’t exactly a superhero rescue. But Gio was my friend and my neighbor. I zipped around the building in my purple zapatos, to see if I could find his ball. No