"Vitalka! It'll be tested scientifically, won't it? Scientists will
have to discover how it flies, won't they?"
"Yes, of course!"
"Well, and who's going to test it?"
"Why... test pilots."
"Test pilots know how to fly planes, but they've never flown carpets
before. And we have!" I said triumphantly. "They won't be able to cope
because they're used to all those levers and pedals!"
Vitalka propped himself up on his elbow and gazed at me admiringly.
"It means, we should carry out the tests! After all, we discovered
it, so we should do it! And when we've done a thorough job, we'll tell
them all about it!"
Vitalka even jumped up.
"That's right! First we've got to learn everything about it! And
learn to fly it well, too. Then they'll perhaps let us do some more tests
on it while they're studying it!"
These thoughts made us feel less guilty. We decided to spend the
summer testing out the magic carpet and inform the Academy about it in
the autumn.
While we were arguing and making plans, the windows grew slightly
darker and downstairs Auntie Valya's cuckoo cried out eleven times.
We waited another half-hour and then very carefully put our trousers
and sweat shirts on.
Our south window looked out onto the flat roof of the rear of the
house and this roof now became our take-off strip. We spread the carpet
on it.
Our first attempt was a flop: the carpet jerked off the roof, slid
sideways towards the fence, landed on the springy tops of some burdocks
and I rolled off it.
"Why did it do that?" asked Vitalka in a whisper.
"It's your fault," I said angrily. "Where did you want to fly to?"
"Over the fence and down the street."
"Well, and I wanted to circle round the yard first! The carpet's
can't tear itself to pieces to please us both at once!"
It was stupid to get angry as we quickly realised: we simply had to
work things out beforehand so that the carpet was controlled by one of us
at a time.
"You have a go," said Vitalka magnanimously. "You're better at it so
far."
We sat down on the carpet again and I imagined us skimming slowly and
smoothly along the fence, past the porch and log pile, circling round and
gradually gaining altitude...
The carpet raised its edges slightly and gently lifted us higher and
higher...
We flew over the fence, across the street and up to the chimneys and
then quietly over the vegetable plots.
I sat with one arm round Vitalka's shoulders, holding on tightly.
Neither of us said anything. Vitalka was breathing rapidly and his heart
was pounding away under his shirt. The carpet sagged softly under us,
and we felt as if we were sitting in a soft, silky hammock. I let go of
Vitalka's shoulders, and crept towards the edge because I wanted to see
what was down below. The edge of the carpet rose slightly and became
harder.
"It's protecting us. Isn't that splendid of it," Vitalka said in a
whisper.
I sat down very carefully on the edge and dangled my legs. The carpet
kept its balance and its edge became quite hard, and supported me
springily under my knees.
Vitalka lowered his legs over the other side and repeated, "Isn't
that splendid of it!" Then he stroked the carpet and asked, "But what
will happen if we sit down next to each other?"
"We'll turn over."
"Let's try carefully."
And he began edging towards me and finally sat down beside me. The
carpet continued flying smoothly along, without listing. It obviously was
not affected by the normal laws of equilibrium.
Vitalka crawled back to the middle, stood on all fours, kneeled and,
finally, stood upright calling cheerfully to me, "It's fine. Get up."
I crept towards him, grabbed hold of his sweat-shirt and straightened
my (slightly trembling) knees.
The carpet sank gently under our bare feet, but we had no problem
standing as we were flying smoothly along in a straight line.
Suddenly it dawned on me that the carpet was flying all by itself! I
had stopped controlling it a long time ago. So it could fly on its own?
And you only had to show it which way to go?
But what if the carpet had simply lured us away and was now taking us
off to a magic kingdom far beyond the dark wooded horizon? I immediately
decided to turn round. And the carpet instantly obeyed.
"How clever you are!" I said affectionately, and joyfully seized hold
of Vitalka's shoulders again.
We flew so close to a dark fir in someone's yard that one of its
shaggy branches grazed me across the shoulder. A cat sitting by a chimney
pot on a steep iron roof heard the rustling sound and, catching sight of
us, arched its back and spat. And a dog down below started barking, but
we had already flown by.
Thrilled to feel safe, I put on speed, and we started rising steeply
over the town.
The oncoming wind whistled and beat against our chests and swept back
our hair. We swayed slightly but then stood firm again, holding onto each
other. All around, above and below, we were surrounded by emptiness but
we did not feel frightened. All at once we had firm faith in our carpet.
It was our friend and would not let us down.
We sped through alternating layers of hot and chilly night air. At
times it felt as though we were flying through warm cottonwool and at
others, along a draughty corridor. And at others still we seemed to be
wading waist-high through warm water, while our elbows and necks covered
in gooseflesh from the cold.
Down below loomed the town studded with little shining squares of
windows and tiny bead-like lamps strung along its main streets.
On three sides the town was enclosed by a wide river, which reflected
the silvery sky and yellow dawn glowing above the northern horizon.
It suddenly occurred to me that from the earth we now looked no
bigger than a postal stamp, but all the same...
"What if we're spotted?" I whispered. "The sky is so light."
"Who will spot us?" replied Vitalka. "The streets are empty."
"Not completely, you know..."
"Well, so what if we are," said Vitalka in a carefree tone. "They'll
think it's a flying saucer."
"But there's no such thing as a square saucer."
"There isn't here but why not on Mars?"
We both burst out laughing. The carpet was sweeping us up into the
light sky towards the two brightest stars, twinkling together like liquid
lights.
Chapter Five
I woke up smiling but feeling sad: smiling because all night I had
had a wonderful dream about a magic carpet and sad because it was over.
Vitalka was snuffing quietly with his face to the wall. A fluffy
sunbeam was lying on the back of his shaggy head.
I screwed my pillow into a tight ball, raised it over my head, took
aim and, to be quite sure, rested my left hand against the floor. My palm
touched something amazingly soft and silky. I started and dropped the
pillow, which fell onto the greyish-brown woollen carpet.
The carpet was spread on the floor between our beds!
With a palpitating heart I crawled down onto it and wished I was
rising to the ceiling.
And the next moment I was!
Then I carefully landed again.
So my dream wasn't over, after all? No, I could not possibly be
dreaming now!
There was the tattered corner of Vitalka's old blanket. There was
the flaky skin, peeling like bits of cigarette paper off Vitalka's
sunburnt shoulders. There was a little black beetle with a fleck of
sunlight on its round back scurrying across the wall. Could you really
see everything in such detail in a dream?
I lay down, pressed my cheek against the carpet and started looking
up. Then I stared at Vitalka and tried to get him to wake up but it did
not work.
So I yelled, "Get up! It's not a dream! Do you hear? It's not a
dream!"
Why, oh why, had we been given so much joy? We were so thrilled, we
felt like hugging everyone in the world and wanted to do nothing but
good, and be good ourselves.
We frightened Auntie Valya again by going downstairs as quietly as
mice and then voluntarily washing our necks and ears (with soap!).
After breakfast we took a large tin can and set off to buy some
kerosene. Auntie Valya had been telling us to do it for a whole week.
After bringing the kerosene back, we dashed over to my house and
helped mother with her weekend chores. She, too, was rather startled at
first and then announced that my friendship with Vitalka was having an
ennobling effect on me. I started giggling and poked Vitalka in the ribs.
Then he sat astride me and a tin tub fell off the wall onto us and mother
chased us outside.
The day had only just begun but we already knew it was going to be
marvellous. We no longer needed to urge the time to pass quickly because,
sooner or later, the evening was sure to arrive and we would again set
off on a flight!
We would spend the day swimming, playing football, watching cartoons
on TV, flying paper birds from the roof and racing along the grassy lanes
with the other lads, playing at scouts. Life was wonderful!
We decided to start off by running down to the river for a dip.
And so off we ran and bumped into the Vetka on a corner. She was in
the same form as I, only in a parallel class.
She was small and thin with short mousy hair that was completely
straight - nothing special, in other words. She often danced in our
school concerts. I wasn't at all interested in dancing, just as I wasn't
in girls but Vitalka liked her and had told me so on more than one
occasion.
"What DO you see in her?" I would ask. "She's not even pretty. She's
got a stubby nose and a mouth like a frog's."
"You silly goon! So what if she's not pretty?"
Oh well, what did I care!
Vetka was walking along with a large checked bag bumping against her
knees, and the tufty stalks of some spring onions sticking out of her bag
like green tails. She was staring at her toes. If I had been by myself, I
would simply have muttered "hello" or passed by without saying anything
for, after all, we hardly knew each other. But Vitalka glanced quickly
into her face and said, "What's wrong?"
Vetka stopped and looked up. Her cheeks were stained with tears.
"What's the matter, Vetka?" Vitalka asked again as if he knew her
well, although she probably did not even know his name.
Yes, and he was right to. If a person's face is tear-stained, what
difference does it make if he knows your name or not? Two years ago
Vitalka and I had hardly known each other either, but he had still come
to my rescue.
Vetka said in a whisper, "My bicycle's been taken away from me."
"Who by?" we both exclaimed.
"Well, by some called Razikov."
"What form's he in?" I asked in a business-like manner.
Vetka smiled slightly with her large frog-like mouth and said, "Why
no... he's grown-up... he's an old man... he's called Ivan Ivanovich..."
"And who exactly is he?" asked Vitalka angrily.
"Well... just someone who used to be a fire brigade-leader, but is
now retired and is always picking on everyone..."
What on earth was going on in the world? While some people were
feeling happy, others were having their bicycles taken away from them by
some Ivan Ivanovich Razikov or other! It just wasn't fair, was it?
"Why did he do it?"
"I was riding along the pavement because there was a pot-hole in the
road and he started shouting at me: "You hooligan! You're breaking the
Highway Code! A girl too!' Then he grabbed hold of my bicycle and said,
'And I won't give it back until you fetch your parents!'"
"Well, why don't you?" I asked. "Won't they stand up for you?"
"Well, yes, they may, but I'll still get a scolding from Mum because
she told me not to cycle to market."
"Well then, come on," said Vitalka sternly. "Who does he think he
is!"
Vetka did as she was told and turned round and we set off to see that
justice was done.
Vetka walked between us and the stalks of her spring onions kept
tickling my leg. I glanced askance at the bag and saw that it was full
and rather heavy-looking.
"Come on, let me carry that!"
Vetka looked surprised but did not say no. Gosh, it weighted a ton! I
bent right over on one side wondering how on earth she could carry such a
weight. At once I began to respect her.
When we reached the corner, Vetka suddenly stopped and said, "There
he is... there's Razikov..."
A tall thin man with a bony skull and gristly face, wearing an old
green jacket was mending a bench by a gate.
We squatted on the other side of the fence.
"He'll never listen to reason," Vitalka whispered. "Remember the time
we were playing at scouts and he started chasing after Vovka Rybin?"
Didn't I!
Vetka looked at me and then at Vitalka pleadingly.
"Never mind," he said. "We'll think of something. Where's he the
hidden your bike?"
"He put it by the porch in his yard... You'll never get to it because
he's got a huge dog on a chain..."
"Never mind," Vitalka said again. "We'll see you home now to find out
where you live and in an hour's time we'll deliver your bike to your
door."
"But how?"
"Look," Vitalka said rather grandly. "This is Oleg Lapnikov and I'm
Vitaly Gorodetsky. If we promise something, it means, you've nothing to
fear."
Vetka lived nearby in a small house with a fence round it in
Chelyuskintsi Street. We dragged her bag all the way for her and then ran
off home.
I immediately guessed what Vitalka had in mind.
"We'll be spotted," I said as we ran along.
"We'll stick close to the fences so we won't be seen and then fly up
once, dive down, grab the bike and whizz off again!"
"But what about the dog? He'll jump up and won't half bite!"
Vitalka stopped running and began striding along.
"Are you scared?" he asked.
"You must be bonkers," I said in an offended tone. "Who's scared?
It's just that we've got to think everything out."
"We'll make a lasso out of a rope, throw it over the handlebars and
pull the thing up. Then the dog can jump up as much as it likes."
"But it'll bark."
"So what?"
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