The Year I Flew Away

by Marie Arnold

  “Come on now, you kids can do better,” Ms. King says. The kids clap again, this time louder. The clapping starts to fade into the background as I look at the time: 11:40. Soon, it will all be over. I will be Lady Lydia’s prisoner forever.

  “This is crazy,” Carmen says. “We shouldn’t be here. If you can dodge the witch for twenty-four hours, she can’t touch you. So all we have to do is keep you hidden for a day.”

  I smile sadly. “We both know that wherever I am on earth, the witch will find me. And anyway, I want to be here for Culture Day. I need to make up for what I did.”

  Suddenly I hear a hum. It’s low, but it’s getting louder with every passing moment. The hum is coming from inside the walls of the auditorium.

  Rocky jumps on my lap. “We should get you outta here! Fast!”

  “Rocky, remember what the book said: ‘There is nowhere on earth anyone can run from the witch,’” I remind him.

  Rocky turns to Carmen and begs her, “Make Gabrielle go before it’s too late.”

  “Rocky’s right,” Carmen says. “We should get you to safety.”

  “I’m the third in line to speak,” I say. “I have to wait for my turn to go up there. If this is my last day of freedom, I have to talk about Haiti. I owe that to my family.”

  “And now, our first Culture Day presenter—Connor Long!” Ms. King announces. Connor pops up out of his seat. He has big glasses and walks like a proud peacock. He marches up to the stage wearing a kilt and holding bagpipes. He gets onto the stage and begins his presentation.

  We don’t hear what Connor has to say; we can’t. I’m too busy looking at the giant creatures burrowing out from the walls. I hold on to the armrest so hard my hands shake. They are here: FEAR.

  The creatures are terrifying. They are massive blood-red spiders, with scorpion tails and unhinged jaws. Their spiked claws snap at the air as they dig out of the walls. Their red and gold wings flap wildly as they emerge. I think only the three of us can see them, because everyone else is calm and watching the stage.

  The Flying Evil Army of Rage is getting into position. There were three of them, but by the time Connor finishes playing his bagpipes, there are six. Soon, FEAR grows. Now there are dozens of them crawling up along the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.

  “Don’t worry, guys. They aren’t after you; they are after me,” I remind my friends.

  “That’s not making me feel better,” Carmen says as the army multiplies.

  “Yeah, same here,” Rocky adds.

  Connor finishes his presentation. The kids clap. The army grows. The three of us hold hands. We’re all terrified, but at least we’re together.

  “And now, for our second presentation—Johnny Douglas, come to the stage.”

  Johnny makes his way to the stage wearing a soccer jersey. He’s really popular, and the kids cheer as he approaches the podium.

  The humming from the army gets louder. It’s now 11:55. And in five minutes, the witch will come, and her army will take me away forever.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to run away?” Carmen says. “I have a cousin in Mexico who makes costumes for movies. She could make you a good disguise. Lady Lydia would never find you.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve been running away for too long,” I reply. It’s hard to hear her over the humming and the sound of my heart pounding against my chest.

  “There has to be something we can do. Something we missed,” Carmen says. “The book says no one on earth can stop the witch. And when we went to see Madam Monday, she said to remember to use our voices for good and that words are uplifting. So if we put that together, what do we have? What does it all mean?”

  “I don’t think there’s time to figure it out. Look!” I point as FEAR gets into formation to create an archway in the auditorium wall. They are making way for their leader—Lady Lydia.

  “Don’t look over there. Stay focused, Gabrielle. What are we missing? How do we get you away from the witch?”

  “Okay, we have five minutes,” I say. “You guys keep thinking, while I give my presentation.”

  “What if we don’t solve the problem in time?” Carmen says.

  I hug her really hard. “Then at least my last few moments of freedom were spent with my friends.” She hugs me back.

  Rocky joins us and takes out a handkerchief. “Why her? Why, oh why?” Rocky says as he blows his nose into his handkerchief.

  Johnny finishes his presentation. The kids clap at the exact time that lightning hits the window. The army welcomes its evil witch leader—Lady Lydia. She’s wearing a liquid cape made of tears. I know because I can hear the cloth sobbing. Her long black and red dress is made of blood-soaked fangs and flows behind her. Her eyes are alive with malice and wickedness.

  “Hello, dear. I believe you have something of mine—oh yes, your essence!” she says as she makes her way toward me. Rocky and Carmen never let go of my hands. The witch laughs. “Are they supposed to stop me from getting to you?”

  “We won’t let you hurt Gabrielle!” Carmen says.

  “Yeah, that’s right, not on our watch! Put ’em up,” Rocky says.

  The witch waves her hand, and both Rocky and Carmen go flying across the room.

  “No!” I shout as I race to make sure they are okay. No one in the auditorium can see what’s going on. It’s just us, on our own.

  “Are you guys okay?” I ask.

  They nod. I help them both stand up. Lady Lydia gets ready to attack them again. “Don’t you dare, witch! Your business is with me, not them. Come and get me.” I ball my hands into fists and place them firmly at my sides.

  “My dear, I’ll feast on your essence until nothing remains,” Lady Lydia says. “You’ll spend the rest of your life trapped in my stream! It’s time, dear. Say goodbye to your freedom. You belong to me!”

  “Not yet I don’t!” I point to the clock on the wall at the back of the auditorium. “I still have four minutes before noon.”

  “Four minutes, ha! What can you do in four minutes?”

  “I can make things right,” I reply as I march toward the stage.

  “And now, our third and final presenter—born and raised right here in America—Gabrielle Jean.” All the kids clap for me. I look over at Rocky and Carmen for what will be the last time. I nod and try to put on my best smile. It doesn’t turn out so well. It’s a sad smile, but when you have true friends, you don’t have to pretend to be happy when you’re not.

  “Gabrielle, come on up!” Ms. King says.

  I make my way near the edge of the stage; Mrs. Bartell stands in front of me. I can tell from the look on her face that she sees FEAR too. She knows the witch is here. Tears fall from her eyes.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you,” I tell her.

  She hugs me and says, “I’m proud of you. You’re a special girl. There’s no one on earth like you.”

  I thank her and head toward the podium. Carmen and Rocky follow me. The map is already on the stage, along with the photos I picked to be pinned to it. Some of them are pictures of my family; some are of Stephanie and my other friends. There are also pictures of my village and my favorite mango tree. I hold on to the podium and look out at everyone.

  “Hello . . . I have something to confess.”

  Everyone goes quiet. The witch points to the clock and smiles. My hands are ice cold, and my knees feel like they will give out at any moment.

  “Gabrielle, you can do this,” Mrs. Bartell says. My throat is drier than the desert. The humming has stopped, and now the auditorium is too quiet. Lady Lydia is enjoying how nervous I am. But I’ll show her!

  “What I want to say is . . . I’m not from America. I wasn’t born here. I was born in a country called Haiti.”

  All the kids gasp and start muttering to each other. I’m really nervous about continuing, because it’s time to tell the truth.

  “Gabrielle, you can do it,” Rocky says.

  “Just think really hard about back home.
When I miss my family in Mexico, I think of one thing I love and then I feel like I’m there. Just try, Gabrielle. Think of one thing . . .” Carmen whispers to me.

  I hear laughter, but I’m not sure where it’s coming from. I smell wet earth and feel drops of water on my skin.

  “Rain. I love it when it rains . . .” I reply. And just like that, all my memories of Haiti come flooding back. I hear the laughter as we run like crazy through the village.

  I clear my throat and keep going. “Sometimes in Haiti, we don’t have enough food to eat. Sometimes we don’t even have enough water to drink. When I came here, I was embarrassed about all the things Haiti didn’t have. So I pretended I was born here instead. But that was stupid, because there are a lot of good things about Haiti too.

  “When I was little, my mom would balance the world on her back, our groceries on her head, and me on her hip. She’d carry that load for miles in the hot sun. She never stopped, even when she was tired. The moms in Haiti are strong and tough. They are superheroes.

  “When my stomach hurt from hunger, my dad would tell us jokes. Sometimes he’d make my mom and me laugh so much we’d forget we were sad, forget we were hungry. His laugh is more healing than medicine; it’s magic. Dads in Haiti are magic.

  “Haitians use spiritual songs, stories, and humor as a weapon against hopelessness. They slay problems the size of dragons and conquer their fears by being resourceful, being strong. The people of Haiti are strong. I came here, and I forgot about that. And that was unfair to them.

  “My country taught me to be strong, courageous, and resourceful. I gave all that up. I gave up my native language, my culture, and my family so I could have new friends. But real friends help you celebrate who you are, not hide it.” I look over at Carmen and Rocky; they smile at me.

  “There’s another reason why I tried to hide being Haitian. I thought it was the only way I could be an American. Being in America means I have a chance to reach my dreams, but if it weren’t for Haiti, I’d never even know how to dream.” I feel the tears well up in my eyes. I hold on tighter to the podium. There’s a big lump in my throat. The more I try to fight my feelings, the harder they are to control.

  “I’m sorry I lied to everyone about who I am. I was ashamed, but not anymore. I know it looks like I stand here alone, but the truth is, I’m not alone. I carry my family, my culture, and my history with me everywhere I go.” I take a deep breath, and suddenly, I see them in my head: my parents, Stephanie, the village. All the things that help make me who I am. They’re smiling at me.

  “When I first came to school, people teased me and said mean things. I should not have listened to them, because they don’t really know about my homeland. They see it on TV sometimes, and it looks small and weak. But Haiti is much more than what you see on TV.

  “Just like what my friend Carmen told me once about her homeland, Mexico. It’s a place she loves because it’s where her family and her heart live. She’s proud of it. She didn’t let anyone take that pride away. I did, but not anymore. I’m taking my dignity back. I come from the land of superheroes, magicians, and warriors. I come from Haiti.

  “I’m also proud that I live in America now; this country lets me hold on to both my native land and my new home. I hope America always stays that way. My name is Gabrielle Jean. I am a proud Haitian. I am a proud American.”

  The first person to jump up and start cheering is Mrs. Bartell. And then Carmen, and Rocky. And soon, the others join in. In fact, I get a standing ovation!

  “Wow, great job, Gabrielle!” Ms. King says. “How on earth did you think of that? Your words were so inspirational. So uplifting!”

  As soon as she says that to me, it hits me like lightning! Carmen and I turn to each other and shout at the same time, “I got it!”

  Carmen says, “Earth! That’s it, Gabrielle! No one on earth can stop the witch, but if you’re up in the air, you aren’t touching the earth at all!”

  “Yes, that’s right!” Rocky says. “But how do we stop you from touching the earth?”

  “I know how,” I reply just as the clock strikes noon. I run to the microphone. I look out the window. The witch has split the sky apart with red lightning. The school building begins to shake.

  “Everyone, if you tell the truth about who you are, if you are proud to be from wherever you’re from, stand up and tell us. We want to know who you are, who you really are. Your words can uplift us,” I shout.

  “Oh! She means literally, Rocky!” Carmen says. She runs for the microphone.

  Lady Lydia waves her hand again, and the podium is hurled into the air and smashes against the wall. FEAR is on the move, and so is the witch. The end is coming for me. I fight them off as much as I can. They spit their poison-laced web at me, and I barely get out of the way in time. Rocky tries to fend off the creatures as Carmen runs to get to the microphone.

  “I was born in Mexico. We gave the world chocolate, tacos, and popcorn. We invented color TV. And aside from Spanish, there are over one hundred different languages spoken in Mexico. My name is Carmen Hernández. I am a proud Mexican. I am a proud American.” The words fall out of Carmen’s mouth and bend and twist until they become one large feather. It travels through the air and lands on my shoulder blade.

  The army is everywhere. And everyone in the auditorium can see FEAR now. Carmen pleads with the auditorium to share their story and be proud of who they are. While I try to fend off the army, I hear Mrs. Bartell’s voice come over the microphone. She talks about her love for Haiti. Her words grow into a feather, just like Carmen’s. Soon, others join her.

  “My family is Muslim. We’re from Turkey. I wear a hijab. It’s a part of my faith. We believe in peace. My dad sings off-key in the shower; my sister steals the remote when I’m not looking. And my mom lets me sample dessert before it gets to the table. My name is Afra Asad. I am a proud Muslim. I am a proud American.”

  “I’m not from Japan. I’m not from China. Both places are nice, but that’s not where I’m from. We’re from Thailand. That’s in Southeast Asia. My grandfather is an artist, my mom is a mechanic, and no one in the house break-dances better than me! My name is Gan Wu. I am a proud Thai. I am a proud American.”

  All the students begin to talk at once. They don’t even need a microphone. They are yelling out their stories. Before I know it, feathers are flying across the room, from every direction, all headed for me. They land on my back and arrange themselves to make a pair of glorious wings!

  Lady Lydia is livid. “No! She’s mine!” she says as she gets up in the air and tries to pull me down. Her army tries to latch on too.

  “My name is Rocky! I am a rat!” Rocky says as he jumps off one of the tables and bites the creature’s tail. Rocky’s words create another feather, letting me hover a few feet in the air.

  “I’m Principal Moore, and I love soap operas!”

  I hover a little higher, but not high enough to escape the witch’s claws. “I can’t get away! The wings aren’t strong enough. There has to be someone else, someone whose voice has not been heard,” I tell Carmen. We both look around and try to figure out whose voice we can add.

  “It’s me. My voice is missing.”

  We all turn to follow the sound of Tianna’s voice. Uh-oh. This might turn out badly. She looks at me and then at the witch. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

  “I’m Tianna Thompson. I’m from a place just like Haiti. It’s small, and sometimes we don’t have much. But we are always happy. My grandfather lets us help him plant bananas and drink juice straight from the coconut. We speak English, but we also speak patois. It’s fast, fun, and sounds like music.

  “We eat fresh fish by the sea and tell stories. When I came to America, I thought everyone was going to be mean to me, so I had to be mean first. But then I met a girl from Haiti. Haiti isn’t too far from Jamaica. We’re neighbors. Maybe someday, we might even be friends. I’m Tianna Thompson. I am a proud Jamaican. I am a proud American.”


  The moment her words fall from her mouth, they bend into feathers nearly twice the size of all the others. They are gold and silver. They cut through the air and head toward me. Lady Lydia whistles and summons a red bolt of lightning. The lightning and the feather both slice through the air at impossible speeds toward me. There’s no way to tell which will get to me first. I close my eyes and hold my breath and brace for the end. If this is my last breath, I will take these things with me:

  I was loved. I was wanted. By both my old and my new home. By both my old and my new friends. I will face my fate courageously, whether it’s red lightning or the feather. I open my eyes.

  The feather attaches to my shoulder a fraction of a second before the lightning strike. The gold feather activates all the other ones, and now they are three times as strong. I’m no longer hovering. I’m flying! The wings flap furiously against the air. And when the lightning strikes, it misses me.

  The witch moves to call more lightning still, but Mrs. Bartell trips her, and Lady Lydia falls flat on her face. I watch in horror as she commands her army to attack everyone. FEAR is everywhere!

  “Oh no you don’t!” I shout from above. I flap my wings as hard as I can as I fly above FEAR and the witch. My massive wings cause a whirlwind.

  “Everyone, hold on to something!” I shout. I flap my wings yet again, and a supertornado forms below me. It picks up the witch and her army and sucks them into its void. I wave goodbye as I fly away. The kids below—my friends—wave back. I’m excited and laugh as my wings carry me off.

  Epilogue

  My wings took me far; I flew over all the countries my friends talked about. And when I landed, it was three months later!

  I don’t have my wings anymore, but I feel like they are still there, should I ever need them again.

  I landed a few days before my parents were scheduled to come to America. They finally got the papers they needed to be with me. I’ll introduce them to Carmen and my other friends. I’ll also show them our class’s pet rat—Rocky. He is beloved, and he gets petted all the time. Actually, I think it’s gotten to his head. I wanted to talk to him the other day, and I was told I needed to make an appointment!