Free The Amazing Flight of Darius Frobisher by Bill Harley Page A

corner of the yard, under a cedar tree, he saw an enormous pile of handlebars. Fenders of every size, shape, and color lined the sidewalk. The porch was completely filled with wheels and tires, blocking the doorway. In the small side yard, a sculpture caught Darius’s eye. Welded-together gears, sprockets, kickstands, and countless other bicycle parts towered twenty feet into the air.
    In front of the sculpture was a neat row of bicycles. A sign hung on one of them.

    Darius thought this house was the most beautiful,
         wonderful,
              marvelous,
                   and magnificent thing
                        he had ever seen.
    His heart raced, and a pure, simple laugh bubbled up from deep inside him.
    “Hello there,” a voice called out from somewhere above him. Darius looked up. Along the peak of the roof he saw another row of bikes lined up next to a tall antenna. Standing on top of the chimney, adjusting a bike on top of the antenna pole, was Daedalus, his white hair sticking out in all directions. He turned the bike he was holding this way and that, until he seemed to have it where he wanted. “There …,” said Daedalus. “No, there. There … there … there!”
    Darius stared.
    Daedalus took his hands away from the bike, watching to see if it would stay. The bike teetered back and forth, then stopped, balanced perfectly on the metal rod.
    “Perfect,” Daedalus chortled. “This should help with the reception.”
    He looked down at Darius. “Meet me in the back,” he called. He winked and disappeared on the other side of the roof.
    Darius skirted the pile of handlebars and picked his way through the maze of bicycle remains. Like the front, the backyard was chock-full of bicycles, bicycle parts, and bicycle sculptures of every size and description. The old man was climbing down a trellis festooned with a jungle of vines. The large leaves sprawled out, hiding the porch like so many green elephant ears.
    Daedalus leapt from the trellis and looked Darius up and down. The old man turned his head to one side and then the other, squinting his eyes as if he were looking to see if any parts had been put on in the wrong place. A quick grin broke out on his face.
    “You found me,” he said. “I thought you would.”
    Darius had been speechless ever since he had seen the house. But now he found his voice.
    “I’ve been trying to find you! My rim is bent and I can’t fix it!”
    “Oho! Bent rim. That’s right. It’s the worst. I bet you tried to fix it and botched the job completely. I bet the spokes look like Medusa’s hair! Nothing but a head full of snakes, you know! How’d you like to comb it?”
    “A head full of snakes?” asked Darius.
    “Right! That was after Venus got through with her. Venus, the goddess of beauty, was jealous of her, so she turned Medusa intoan ugly monster. How ugly, you ask? She was so ugly that one look at her would turn you to stone.”
    “That’s ugly,” said Darius, nodding.
    “Of course it is,” said Daedalus. “The Greeks didn’t mess around when it came to extremes.” He stopped suddenly and pointed to the book under Darius’s arm. “Greek myths! Excellent. That nice little volume is a good start, but …” He leaned forward and put his face close to Darius’s and whispered mysteriously, “There is more. Much, much more! More horrible. More wonderful. I can tell you. I know.” His eyebrows wiggled up and down as if they had lives of their own.
    Daedalus straightened himself and paused a moment as if lost in thought, then he looked back at Darius, eyes bright and twinkling. “Now, listen, my young warrior—do your parents know where you are?”
    “No,” said Darius. “I don’t have any parents. All I have now is Aunt Inga.”
    “Hmm, I remember. Like Hera—Zeus’s wife.”
    “She doesn’t have a husband. And she’s kind of strict.”
    Daedalus scrunched up his face. “Well, all right. For the