On Saturday morning, Mr. Vaslov rang the doorbell while Mom and I were eating breakfast.
“Sorry to disturb you so early,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” Mom asked. “The furnace in Building D broke.”
“In this cold weather?” Mom said. “That’s awful!”
Building D was where Erika lived. Did that mean she was shivering? I wondered if I should be sad about that.
“Fire trucks took everyone to Starwood Elementary,” Mr. Vaslov said. “They spent the night in the gym. It was on the news.”
Camping out at the school? Getting on TV? Why do mean people like Erika have all the luck?
“They need food,” Mr. Vaslov said. “I’ll call the neighbors,” Mom said.
“We’ll make meals.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Vaslov. “And would you mind if I borrowed Freddie? There’s something he could help me with.”
“Of course,” said Mom, picking up the phone. “You can have him all day.”
Outside, Mr. Vaslov handed me the zapato snowshoes. “With people sleeping at the school, we need a path on the stairs to bring supplies. How about it, Freddie?”
Mr. Vaslov didn’t have to ask me twice. Snow flew everywhere as I zoomed up and down, faster than any machine.
In five minutes, the steps between Starwood Park and Starwood Elementary were clean. Mr. Vaslov sprinkled salt on them to keep them from getting icy.
“The sidewalks around the school need clearing too. Are you too tired?”
“No hay problema,” I said.
“Good work, Freddie!”
We walked into the building with a click, clack, clatter.
“Your snowshoes sure are noisy on floors.” Mr. Vaslov laughed.
He showed me how to fold up the snowshoes and put them in the inside pocket of my winter coat.
“Keep them handy,” he said. “You never know when you might need them.”
Then we went into the school gym. People immediately surrounded Mr. Vaslov to ask him when the furnace would be fixed in Building D.
“Not before Monday, I’m afraid. We need a new part.”
A gray-haired lady with a red wart on her chin turned away with a groan. Then she hobbled off, rubbing her back as if sleeping on the floor hadn’t been the best adventure of her life.
“Abuela?” a girl asked. “Are you all right?”
The voice sounded familiar to me but it was a lot nicer than I’d ever heard it before. Bubblegum popped near my ear. I turned to face Erika.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m here with Mr. Vaslov,” I said, pointing to where people ere lined up to talk to him. He was taking notes on a clipboard.
“Last night he came over on the fire trucks with us.” She yawned, showing off her purple mouth. “He helped set up the blankets and sleeping bags.”
For once, I didn’t have to wonder if Erika was telling the truth. Mr. Vaslov always helped the people of Starwood Park.
“Freddie!” He waved at me. “I’ve got another job for you.”
For the rest of the afternoon, I ran back and forth between Building D and the school, carrying things Mr. Vaslov pulled out of the apartments for the people camping out in the gym. “We want to make the people of Building D as comfortable as possible,” Mr. Vaslov said, checking his clipboard list.
That meant finding Pedro’s teddy bear in 19D and Mrs. Wu’s pillow in 35D. It also meant filling Erika’s green backpack with her comb, toothbrush, and purple bubblegum. Eeew! Sometimes being a hero was tough.
I ran back to the school carrying Erika’s backpack as far away from my body as possible. My plan was to toss it at her feet, like somebody feeding a lion, and get away in a Zapato Power flash. But when I walked into the gym, there was crying and commotion
“MY MONEY!” the gray-haired lady with the red wart on her chin wailed.
“Somebody stole my abuela’s purse!” Erika shouted. “Call the police!”