Read The Amazing Flight of Darius Frobisher for Free Online

gasped.
    There, forty feet above the houses, was an old man riding a bicycle unlike any Darius had ever seen. Extra parts had been attached to every available surface. Someone had welded forks to the fenders, and the forks held smaller wheels that spun upside down in the air. Strange wing-like contraptions extended from the handlebars and wheel hubs.
    Darius stared at the man flying the bicycle. A mane of white hair stuck out from underneath a black skateboard helmet. The man’s long, sky-blue coat fluttered in the wind behind him like a cape. The rider was humming loudly as the bike disappeared over the trees.
    Then it was over. What Darius had seen lasted no more than nine or ten seconds. He ran down the street, hoping for another look, just to make sure that what he had seen was real. But the sky was now empty; there was nothing but a few wispy clouds high overhead and a sparrow winging its way skyward.
    Because of his father’s adventures and stories, Darius had come to believe that almost anything was possible. But he had never imagined a flying bicycle.
    Maybe I saw it because it was really there
, he thought,
or maybe I saw it because I wanted to see it
.
    Darius couldn’t be sure. “Maybe I’m just going crazy,” he said out loud.
    Maybe he was.
    Later that day, his head still reeling with the vision of a flying bicycle and the disappointment over the broken bike in the corner, Darius lay on his cot, staring at the basement ceiling. When he heard the floorboards creak over his head, he guessed that it was a quarter past two, and that his aunt was making her way to the front door to get the mail. He heard Aunt Inga’s voice. Although he couldn’t hear what she said, he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was scolding the mailman again. The door slammed, and the footsteps returned to the living room.
    It suddenly occurred to Darius that Miss Hastings hadn’t written him like she’d promised. Maybe she hadn’t had time at first after her move. Maybe she was walking to the post office to mail him a letter right now. Or maybe she had already written to him!
    Darius crept upstairs and peeped into the living room. Aunt Inga was back in her big chair, opening her mail, watching television, and nibbling on cookies. Darius knew this was not a good time to talk to his aunt. But there was never a good time to talk to her.
    “Aunt Inga,” he said as politely as he could, “has Miss Hastings written to me?”
    “What?” Aunt Inga said.
    “Has Miss Hastings written me any letters?” he asked, moving closer to her and trying to make himself heard over the raucous TV applause.
    “Fine,” Aunt Inga grumbled, looking up. “Now he thinks I’m in charge of mail delivery. How would I know if she has written? Have you gotten anything?”
    “No, but I just thought …” He paused for a moment, then said, “Maybe I should write to her.”
    “Do you know her address?” Aunt Inga asked.
    “Well, no. But maybe we could find it out.”
    “And how would we do that? I don’t know where she went. It would be a wild goose chase. You need to get on with your life and stop wishing things were what they used to be. You’re lucky you’re here. You have a roof over your head and plenty to eat. There’s a woman here on television who had to feed her children dog food. Have I ever fed you dog food?”
    “No …” said Darius, thinking about the plate of warmed-over pork patties and clammy green beans she’d left for him every evening since his arrival.
    “Exactly. Now please don’t disturb me.” She turned back to watching the program, fumbling in a bag for another cookie. Darius watched for a while—it was a talk show with people arguing about the horrible things they had done to each other.
    “That’s right,” Aunt Inga said to the talk show host. “You tell him. Running off like that without saying good-bye and taking the vacuum cleaner, too. I’d stick him in the slammer and throw away the