the hoop. Thatâs what a basketball player does.
âI quit!â Geraldo shouted, when I got my thirtieth point. âThe rest of us donât have a chance!â
P.E. wasnât any better than recess that day. Mr. Gooley, our gym teacher, took us outside to practice the fifty-yard dash.
âFreddie!â Mr. Gooley hollered. âYou canât run across the field before I blow the whistle. Itâs not fair.â
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.
âWhatâs wrong, Freddie?â Mr. Vaslov asked me after school on Monday. âYouâve lost your superhero smile.â
We sat down on the steps of his toolshed. Mr. Vaslov listened carefully as I explained the problem.
âYour shoes need an on-off switch.â Mr. Vaslov patted my shoulder.
âThatâs a great idea!â
Mr. Vaslov stroked his chin, thinking. âNowâs the time to add improvements, while Iâm still developing and testing the shoes.â
âAnd trying to make a second pair,â I added.
âRight again, Freddie.â Mr. Vaslov chuckled. âI still havenât figured out how to make my invention work for anybody but you.â
âBut what about controls? Do you think you can make them?â I asked.
Mr. Vaslov leaned down and touched the silver wings on the sides of my shoes. His face looked like my momâs when sheâs trying to decide if she can buy new clothes for me.
âGive me a few days to come up with something, Freddie. Iâll do the best I can.â
4. Inventions Take Time
Iâm not the most patient guy. Every afternoon, I knocked on Mr. Vaslovâs toolshed. He opened the door halfway to talk to me.
âAre you finished?â
âNot yet,â Mr. Vaslov answered. âBut I have a great idea.â
âWhat?â I asked.
âA wristband with a button you can press.â
âSounds great! When will it be ready?â
âInventions take time, Freddie.â 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 couldnât run during P.E.
âWhat hurts today, Freddie?â 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 didnât have any body parts left to complain about. Keeping my super speed a secret was taking a lot of brainwork. Itâs not easy to come up with good excuses.
âMr. Vaslov!â I knocked on the toolshed door a week later. âIs my on-off switch working yet?â
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 wasnât there. Then, I heard crying.
âWAAAAAGH!â
Who was in trouble? From the moment I got my purple zapatos, Iâd been watching out for chances to be a hero. Once, I saved Gioâs 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.
âWAAAAAGH!â The sound was behind me, way up near my apartment, 29G.
I couldnât 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.
âMy ball,â he wailed, âthe one Mr. Vaslov gave me. Itâs gone!â
This wasnât 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