Free Johnny Hangtime by Dan Gutman

before. It was not the kind of gag I could rehearse over and over again. I had to get it right the first time.
    A few hundred feet over Squirt, I estimated that I was a little higher than I wanted to be. If I kept going like that, I would touch down in front of Squirt and he might trip over me. I pulled the cord that gives the chute a little less forward lift. It worked. I came down smoothly and only had to make a few minor left and right adjustments.
    I landed on Squirt’s back with a gentle thud. Squirt didn’t miss a stride. The parachute collapsed to the ground behind me.
    â€œGood boy!” I yelled in Squirt’s ear. I gave him a pat on the side of his head and pulled a carrot out of my pocket for him.
    It took a few minutes for Roland’s plane to land, and a few more for him to hop in a jeep and meet me.
    â€œAwesome!” Roland shouted when he caught up with me. His face was flushed red. “Absolutely awesome!”

12
THE ULTIMATE
    A fter I finished doing the stunts for Great Adventure , I didn’t hang around to watch Ricky Corvette and Augusta Wind shoot their usual lovey-dovey scenes. I was anxious to get back home, back to my old bed. Sleeping in hotels and motels gets old after a while. Mom and I packed up Squirt in the trailer and pointed the old Maverick toward California.
    It was December, and I was looking forward to Christmas vacation. I wouldn’t have to deal with Boris Bonner—or anything else—for three whole weeks. Walking home from school that day, I was feeling pretty good.
    â€œHey, Thyme!”
    I turned around. It was Bonner. Nobody was around to bail me out, as usual.
    â€œGimme a dollar, Thyme.”
    I stopped and faced him.
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œAll I find I keep, Thyme.”
    I was sick of Bonner. I didn’t care about the rules anymore. I didn’t care about my contract. I didn’t care about doing stunts. As Bonner slid his hands into my front pockets, I reached my elbow back and slammed it against the side of his head with all the force I could generate.
    I don’t think anything ever felt so good in my whole life.
    It took him completely by surprise, knocking Bonner sideways and off his feet. He lay on the ground and rubbed his jaw for a moment before looking up at me.
    â€œBig mistake,” Bonner said, getting to his feet slowly. “I might not see you over the holidays, so I’m going to have to give you a beating that will last you until New Year’s.”
    Bonner advanced on me, churning his fist in front of him like a bag full of rocks. There was some blood on his right cheek.
    I backed up a few steps so I would be able to plant my foot and get a good shot at him. Bonner must not have been much of a boxer, because instead of hitting me, he grabbed me in a bear hug and wrestled me on the ground.
    We rolled around like that, trying to punch and choke each other. I got in a few shots, and so did he.
    Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt next to us. I didn’t stop. I didn’t care. I wanted to do as much damage to Bonner as I could before anybody stopped the fight.
    â€œBreak it up, boys!” a familiar voice shouted, “Knock it off!”
    Hopping out of the car was Roland Rivers.
    He was much bigger and stronger than both Bonner and me, so he was able to separate us by force.
    â€œYou’re dead, Thyme!” Bonner shouted, as Roland pulled us apart. “Dead!”
    I replied by saying some words I’m not ever supposed to say, but words you’ve probably heard around the schoolyard. I think you know what I mean.
    Neither of us won the fight. I’d call it a tie. But Bonner strode away, swinging his shoulders as though he had whipped me good. I couldn’t help but laugh.
    â€œAre you crazy, Johnny?” Roland asked as he straightened out my shirt. “If word about this ever got back to Ricky Corvette’s people, you’d never work in movies again! Your contract