When I opened the door to 29G, Mr. Vaslov was in my living room talking to Mom. I was going to get a chance to say good-bye after all!
“Can you deliver this for me?” Mr. Vaslov handed Mom a white envelope with an address printed in black letters. “My brother needs these papers tomorrow.”
“The zip code is the same as Jorge’s,” Mom said. “It should be nearby.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Vaslov said. “This is important to my family.”
He nodded his bushy gray head and turned around. That’s when he noticed me.
“Freddie!” His face broke into a big smile. “I have a present for you.”
Mr. Vaslov picked up a wrapped box. I held my breath. The last time Mr. Vaslov gave me a gift, it was my sneakers with super speed. I wondered what would happen now.
“Open it!” Mr. Vaslov said.
I sat down on the couch and ripped off the red-and-green wrapping paper.
“New sneakers!” Mom clapped. “Mr. Vaslov! This is too generous!”
“Freddie helps me around Starwood Park,” Mr. Vaslov told Mom. “Think of this as a thank-you.”
“They look just like my old ones!” I held them up. They had the same purple color with silver wings on the sides. “Only bigger! How did you know my old shoes were tight?” I hadn’t told anyone before today, not even my guinea pig.
Mr. Vaslov laughed. “You’ve been growing, Freddie, like all healthy kids.”
I guess some things are not easy to hide.
“Put them on, Freddie,” Mom suggested. “You can wear them to New York.”
My new zapatos slipped on easily. There was no need to stuff in my feet. But comfy toes weren’t better than super speed. I headed outside for a test run.
“Where are you going, Freddie?” Mom stopped me. “We have to leave for the bus.”
I felt trapped. Our apartment had too many walls for zooming ninety miles an hour. I looked at Mr. Vaslov for help. He was bending down to pick up my old shoes, the ones that were too small.
“I’d like to take these with me.” He put them into the box.
“Of course,” Mom said. “Maybe you know of another little boy who can use them.”
My heart thumped in my chest. Was Mr. Vaslov going to give someone else at Starwood Park my special sneakers? Who?
Super speed is a big responsibility. And it’s not easy to control. I had trouble before Mr. Vaslov invented a Zapato Power wristband with on and off buttons.
“Have a good trip!” Mr. Vaslov waved good-bye at my front door.
“Don’t go!” I tugged on his arm.
“What is it, Freddie?” Mr. Vaslov glanced over at Mom to remind me she was in the room.
“Uh…” My tongue felt dry. Mr. Vaslov and I didn’t talk about Zapato Power in front of her. Moms get scared at the thought of kids running ninety miles an hour and bouncing twenty feet in the air. A good superhero doesn’t make his mom worry.
“Thank you for the shoes,” I sputtered.
Mr. Vaslov winked. “I hope they work well for you.”
I did too. Was Mr. Vaslov not sure? Some of his inventions didn’t do what he expected. At least not at first. What if my new shoes didn’t give me super speed?
“Freddie!” Mom put Mr. Vaslov’s white envelope into her purse and grabbed the handle of our rolling suitcase. “¡Vamos!”
I stepped outside, sticking close to Mr. Vaslov, hoping we could talk alone while Mom locked the door. But his phone rang in his pocket.
“Dripping faucet?” he repeated. “In 35D? I’ll be right there.”
Mr. Vaslov hurried off to get his tools, leaving me with a head full of questions.
What was in the white envelope? Who was getting my too-small zapatos? Would my new purple sneakers be as fast as my old ones? And what was Uncle Jorge’s surprise?
