Fly to the Rescue Read online

  FOR CLARA, WHO MAKES MY HEART SOAR

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  A Note from the Author

  Teaser

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Jake Everdale stared at the clock above Ms. Turner’s head. That clock was the coolest thing in his fourth-grade classroom. It didn’t just show the hours and minutes. It even counted the seconds and milliseconds, which meant something on it was always moving—just like Jake.

  That’s not why Jake was watching the clock, though. With one glance, those bright-red numbers told him exactly how much longer until school got out. And right now, at this very moment, the clock said 2:59:07:11. Just 53.49 seconds to go and school would be over. For the first time all day, Jake let himself feel hopeful. Maybe Ms. Turner will forget to give back our quizzes, he thought. Maybe she didn’t have time to grade them.

  2:59:19:52.

  “You should all be making progress on your science projects,” Ms. Turner was saying—but Jake wasn’t listening.

  2:59:33:16.

  “If you have questions, now is the time to ask them,” she continued. “Don’t wait until the last minute.”

  2:59:41:52.

  Almost there! Jake cheered to himself.

  “And one more thing …” Ms. Turner said. “I have your quizzes from yesterday.”

  NO! Jake wanted to yell. The truth was, Jake didn’t need to get his quiz back to know that he’d failed. And sure enough, there was a bright-red F at the top of the paper—and a line under it for his parents to sign. Jake crumpled up the quiz and stuffed it into his backpack as fast as he could. But he wasn’t fast enough, because he heard a familiar laugh from the next desk.

  “Nice work, Everdale … or maybe we should call you Everfail,” sneered Aiden Allen. Everyone sitting around them started to giggle. Aiden Allen got As in everything. Even his initials were A.A. But in the personality department, Aiden was a solid F.

  At 3:00:00:00, Jake was the first one out the door. As Jake walked home from school, his backpack felt heavier with every step he took. With one quiz, his day had gone from good to bad. Another lecture from Mom and Dad … another night of no TV after dinner … another punishment.

  The worst part was that Jake had really tried this time. He studied at his desk for a whole hour. He read his science notes four different times. He even made flash cards. But during the quiz, everything he knew flew out of his brain like the baseball he homered over the fence last week.

  Jake decided there was only one thing left to try: the Wishing Well behind Franklin Elementary School.

  Technically, it wasn’t a wishing well at all—just a muddy old storm drain. But everybody at school knew it was more than that. If the stories were true, the Wishing Well could grant any wish. But you had to give up something in return—and not just anything. No, it had to be your favorite, most special possession. If you closed your eyes, spun around three times, and threw it into the well—poof! Your wish would come true. The catch, though, was that you only got one chance. Jake had been waiting to make a wish since kindergarten. He didn’t want to waste it.

  But now, Jake had a feeling that it was time.

  “Hey, Mom,” Jake yelled as he ran inside, dropping his backpack on the floor. His dog, Flapjack, was waiting at the door, wagging his tail wildly. Jake paused to give Flapjack a quick pet, then thundered upstairs without bothering to take off his raincoat or his muddy sneakers.

  “Hi, honey,” Mom called. “Did you get your quiz back?”

  Jake pretended he hadn’t heard her as he searched his room. My best, most special thing, he thought. Well, that was easy—it was his collection of signed baseball cards, of course. But there was no way Jake could bear to throw them into the Wishing Well.

  Suddenly, Jake spotted a pile of plastic figures Aunt Margaret had sent for his birthday. The Heroes of History set included a bunch of famous people, from scientists to explorers to artists, from across the centuries. Jake might have been more interested if the Heroes came with cool accessories, like remote-controlled vehicles or tiny chemistry sets. But they didn’t. They just stood there.

  I guess they’re special, Jake thought, staring at the plastic figures. After all, Aunt Margaret gave them to me. As the world’s top neuroscientist, Aunt Margaret knew more about the human brain than anybody else. When she wasn’t at work in her lab, she was traveling all over the globe to give speeches or receive awards for her amazing discoveries. Jake and his family almost never saw her … which meant she would never know that he’d gotten rid of her present.

  Jake stuffed the Heroes of History into his pockets. Then he raced down the stairs and was about to crash through the back door when—

  “Jake! Your quiz?” Mom called from the kitchen.

  “In-my-backpack-gotta-go!” Jake yelled in a rush as he flew out the door.

  Jake ran down the sidewalk—past the house where his best friend, Emerson Lewis, lived; past the playground; and just past Franklin Elementary School to the grassy field behind it. Usually, Franklin Field was packed with kids playing, but today, it was closed. Five days of nonstop rain had turned it into a mud pit.

  The storm drain—the Wishing Well—was at the far edge of the field, right where the sidewalk stopped. Jake peered through the sturdy metal grate, but it was so dark down there that he couldn’t see anything. He could hear the sound of water flowing through it, though.

  Jake clapped his hands over his eyes, spun around three times, and took a deep breath.

  “Uh, Wishing Well?” Jake began. “I, uh …”

  Somewhere in the distance, Jake heard a low rumble of thunder. A prickly feeling ran down his neck, making him shiver even though the autumn day was warm.

  “I—uh—” he tried again.

  More thunder. Louder, this time.

  Closer.

  “I-wish-for-better-grades-in-school!” Jake said. Then, with his eyes tightly shut, he threw the Heroes of History into the storm drain. Every last one.

  Crack! The thunder was so loud it rattled in Jake’s bones.

  Jake’s eyes flew open. All of a sudden, a flash of lightning tore through the dark clouds and hit the padlock on the gate of Franklin Field, sending sparks flying—and Jake running. But Jake wasn’t fast enough to beat the rain. He was completely drenched before he was even halfway home. And that was what made Jake realize something: He had thrown the Heroes of History into the swirling waters of the storm drain—but he had never heard a splash.

  The storm, Jake told himself. There was too much thunder to hear anything else.

  But inside, he wasn’t so sure.

  When Jake got home, Mom was waiting at the door with a towel in her hand. She did not look happy.

  “Go dry off,” she said. “Then we’re going to have a talk.”

  Jake’s sneakers went squish-squish-squish as he trudged inside. Upstairs, he took a long time to change his clothes. But he had to face Mom eventually. Jake found her in the kitchen, cooking dinner while his little sister, Julia, got a head start on her homework.

  When Jake sat next to his sister at the kitchen table, he spotted his failed quiz—which made him feel even worse.

  “Well, Jake?” Mom began. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Jake stared at the table.

  “You’re not giving me any choice but to take away vide
o games,” Mom said. “And … baseball.”

  “What?” Jake yelped. “Mom! No!”

  “You know it’s against the rules to go somewhere without permission,” Mom said. “I was worried about you! And now this quiz? Another F?”

  “But that’s why I left!” Jake interrupted her. “I—I went back to school. To ask for extra help.”

  It wasn’t completely untrue.

  Mom looked surprised. “You did?”

  Jake nodded. “I know I have to do better,” he told her. “I studied really hard. But it wasn’t enough. I’m too dumb.”

  All of a sudden, Mom didn’t seem mad anymore. “Oh, Jake,” she said with a sigh. “You’re not dumb.”

  “Please don’t make me quit baseball,” Jake said. “It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

  “I know,” Mom said gently. “But we’ve talked about how things change in fourth grade. The work can be more challenging. Baseball is a big commitment. All those practices and games take up a lot of time when you could be studying.”

  “But—there’s still my science fair project!” Jake exclaimed. “The science project counts for more than the quizzes! If I get a really good grade, can I stay on the team?”

  Mom didn’t say anything.

  “Please?” Jake begged.

  “Okay,” Mom finally said. “But if you don’t do well, you’ll have to take a break from baseball.”

  Jake stood up so fast his chair scraped across the floor. “I promise I’ll do better,” he said. “I’ll get started right now!”

  “I can’t wait to see what you come up with!” Mom said, smiling for the first time since Jake got home.

  Jake took the stairs two at a time and bounded into his room. He got a fresh piece of paper and sharpened his favorite pencil, the one with the baseball-shaped eraser. But where were the science fair instructions? Jake searched the whole room before he found them crumpled up under the bed. Then Jake broke into the supersecret candy stash in his underwear drawer. Nobody knew about it—not even Emerson. At last, Jake had everything he needed: paper, pencil, instructions, chocolate. Jake knew he was going to have the best science project of all time … just as soon as he came up with a brilliant idea.

  Then he heard a knock at the door. Mom was standing in the hallway with the phone in her hand. “Emerson has a homework question,” she whispered, handing it to him. “You have two minutes to talk.”

  “Hello?” Jake said into the phone.

  “What did your mom say about the quiz?” Emerson asked.

  “She’s pretty mad,” Jake replied. “If I don’t get a good grade on my science project, she’ll make me quit the team.”

  “No way!” Emerson howled.

  “I know,” Jake replied miserably.

  “You’d better get to work,” Emerson said. “What’s your project about?”

  “I’m just about to figure that out,” Jake said. “Do you have any ideas?”

  “My project’s about the weather,” Emerson said. “And Hannah’s doing a really cool one about how plants grow.”

  “Plants! I could do that!” Jake said excitedly.

  “Yeah, but Hannah started, like, a month ago,” Emerson pointed out.

  Jake’s smiled faded. “Right. I forgot that seeds take a while to grow.”

  Mom appeared in the doorway again and tapped her watch.

  “I gotta go,” Jake told Emerson. “See you tomorrow.”

  After Mom left, Jake smoothed out the instructions and started to read. Background Research … Bibliography … Hypothesis … Procedure …

  Jake frowned. He wasn’t sure what half those words meant. All he knew for certain was that he was way behind. Jake didn’t have a clue where to begin. The school year had just started and he already felt like he was hopelessly behind.

  A prickly, panicky feeling started in Jake’s stomach. Then it spread through his entire body. There was nothing Jake could do to stop it. Worst of all was knowing that he was probably going to fail. Again. That meant he would let down the whole baseball team … and Coach Carlson … and even his parents.

  And it was all his own fault.

  I really am a dummy, Jake thought angrily. Not even the Wishing Well can help a dummy like me.

  Jake threw his pencil onto the desk. “I wish someone could just do this for me!” he cried.

  POP!

  A bright flash of light in the middle of Jake’s desk exploded into hundreds of small, burning sparks. They were just like the ones from the lightning bolt that had hit the padlock back at Franklin Field. Oh no! he thought desperately. His desk was a wreck, cluttered with papers and notebooks that could catch fire—

  But oddly enough, the sparks just sat there, twinkling. Nothing burst into flames—not even the science fair instructions.

  Jake waved his hands through the air to get rid of the smoke. When it finally cleared, he saw something so amazing—so astonishing—

  There was a tiny person—a man—standing in the middle of Jake’s desk. He wore fancy, old-fashioned clothes, with a ruffled shirt and a silk vest. His long hair tumbled around his shoulders as he peered up at Jake.

  “Excuse me, young sir,” he finally said, speaking in a clipped English accent. “Would you be so kind as to direct me to the lecture hall?”

  The lecture hall? Jake thought in confusion.

  “Pip, pip,” the man said, clapping his hands impatiently. “I haven’t got all day!”

  Jake finally found his voice. “Who—who are you?” he asked.

  The man pulled himself up to his whole height—about three inches tall. “Me?” he asked incredulously, as though he couldn’t believe Jake didn’t recognize him. “Me? Why, I am Sir Isaac Newton.”

  Jake closed his eyes. When I open my eyes, everything will be normal again, he told himself.

  Slowly, Jake opened his eyes—but nothing had changed. Sir Isaac was still scowling up at him, tapping his foot. But he didn’t just look annoyed … he also looked familiar.

  “Hold on,” Jake said as he dove into the clutter under his desk. Jake dug through his rock collection and his spare cleats and about a hundred gum wrappers until he found the brochure that came with the Heroes of History. He frantically flipped the pages until—

  Jake sucked in his breath. There it was: a drawing labeled “Sir Isaac Newton,” a perfect match to the tiny person standing on Jake’s desk. The man in the drawing had the same bottle-green vest, the same wavy hair, and the same brass-buckled shoes.

  “This can’t be happening,” Jake whispered. His eyes darted back and forth as he began to read.

  Sir Isaac Newton

  1642–1727, England

  Sir Isaac Newton was one of the greatest scientists of all time. Truly a Hero of History!

  The Wishing Well! Jake thought gleefully. It worked! My wish came true!

  Just not in the way Jake had expected.

  This is going to be amazing, he thought. I wished for help on my science project—and now one of the best scientists ever is here to help me!

  Just then, Jake heard a rrrrrip and a clink and a thunk. He glanced at his desk to find Sir Isaac sprawled across the desk in a heap of paper clips. One of the paper clips was stuck to his shoe with a piece of tape.

  Jake jumped up. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  With as much dignity as he could muster, Sir Isaac pulled himself to his feet. He gestured to the tape dispenser and said, in a haughty voice, “I am attempting to uncover the properties of this odd contraption.”

  “You … taped a paper clip to your shoe?” Jake asked.

  Sir Isaac pretended he hadn’t heard Jake as he shook his foot in a hopeless attempt to remove the paper clip. “Perhaps this will be of use,” he said as he hopped over to the stapler.

  “No!” Jake yelped. “Here, let me help—”

  Sir Isaac didn’t look happy about it, but he did let Jake pull the paper clip off his shoe.

  “Thank you,” he said stiffly. “Now, I rea
lly must be on my way. I’m expected in the lecture hall, and I despise lateness in any form.”

  “Yeah … about your, um, lecture,” Jake began, wracking his brain. “It was, um, canceled.”

  “Canceled!” Sir Isaac exclaimed. His face darkened. “I suppose one of my enemies is behind this—of all the scheming, underhanded tricks—”

  “No,” Jake said quickly. “It was, um, by order of the, uh, queen. She needs you here instead. To solve … a … um … very important science problem.”

  Jake held his breath. Would Sir Isaac buy it?

  “I see,” the genius replied, sounding surprised. “Well, it’s highly unusual … but in the name of science, I shall do my utmost to uncover the truth.”

  Yes! Jake cheered to himself. With a genius like Sir Isaac Newton on his side, Jake knew he’d ace his science project.

  “Jake!” Mom yelled from downstairs. “Time for dinner!”

  “Be right there!” he yelled back.

  “And what shall I be investigating?” Sir Isaac asked.

  Jake’s face went blank.

  Sir Isaac nodded knowingly. “It’s all right, my boy, I already know why I’m here.”

  “You do?” Jake asked.

  “To figure out why you’ve grown so large, of course,” Sir Isaac replied.

  “Jake!” Mom called again.

  “I have to go, but I’ll be back,” Jake said. “For now, just, uh, make yourself at home. We’ll get to work later.”

  “Later?” scoffed Sir Isaac. “No, I shall begin recording my observations right now.”

  As Jake left the room, he could hear Sir Isaac muttering to himself. “The subject looks to be a boy of some nine, perhaps ten years of age, quite ordinary in all respects except for his size and his slovenly chambers.”

  Jake smiled as he closed the door. He didn’t care what Sir Isaac said … as long as he helped with the science project.

  * * *

  After dinner, Jake spent the evening sorting his baseball cards while Sir Isaac scribbled equations with the stub of a pencil. Sir Isaac is supersmart, Jake reminded himself whenever he felt a twinge of guilt for goofing off. We’ll still have plenty of time for the science project, even if we don’t start until tomorrow.