Flyaway

by Lucy Christopher

  I arch my back and the wings arch with me. I beat my arms a little faster and the feathers start to make a whirring noise. I have to raise my voice as I speak.

  ‘I learnt that a swan can feel the wind against each one of its feathers. It knows how to rotate its wings so that the wind rushes over them in just the right way.’

  I beat faster, angling my wrists and turning the feathers as I do. I send project sheets spinning to the floor. Corners of posters come away from the wall. I'm good at this now. I don't even need to look at the wings to know which feathers I'm moving. I turn sideways and send a wave of air out over the class, making fringes and ties flip. My skin tingles. I want to be back at the lake, running with my swan.

  I turn to the front.

  ‘But a swan can't fly alone, not for any great distance. The air is too dense and the wind too strong for only one pair of wings. They need the flock.’

  I start to beat a little slower for my final few words.

  ‘Only with a flock do swans have the strength to make migrations happen. And that's why Leonardo da Vinci's flying machine, based on bird wings, would never work . . . not really. You'd need other swans taking off and flying with you . . . you'd need to share their flight too.’

  I slow my arms, lift my fingers to put the feathers back into place. I look back at the class. Everyone is watching now. Sophie is leaning forward over her desk, even grinning at me. There are some people gathered in the corridor too, looking in the classroom window and wondering what the heck I'm doing. I think I see Jack. I pull the velcro with my teeth and undo it. I unbuckle the leather straps and step out from the harness. Mrs Diver is watching open-mouthed, totally impressed.

  CHAPTER 70

  On Saturday, Jack and I stay at home and make the house look nice for Dad. We make a huge ‘Welcome Home’ sign and I draw birds on the edge of it. It's totally corny, but Dad will like it. About half an hour before Mum and Dad are due to arrive, Jess shows up. Jack runs for the door, then brings her in to meet me properly.

  ‘I thought she could help us decorate,’ he says.

  There's an awkward moment where Jess is standing in the hall and I'm in the kitchen and we're just sort of looking at each other. Then Jack chucks a packet of balloons in her direction and she gets to work. He wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her onto a chair so she can help pin up the sign. It's easy to see how much he's into her. When we're finished, we sit around the table.

  ‘Come to the park with us sometimes,’ she says. ‘We need a few more girls.’

  He mock punches her arm. ‘You wanna be mates with my little sister?’ But then he laughs.

  I think about sitting with their group on top of the playground castle, wonder about bringing Harry, too, when he's better.

  ‘OK,’ I say.

  When Jess goes, Jack and I sit on the front step to wait for Dad. He keeps looking across at me, waiting for me to say something.

  ‘She's nice,’ I say, laughing.

  He gets his arm around my neck and scoops me in a headlock. ‘Why would I care what you think?’

  But he does. He wouldn't have brought her round otherwise. Then Mum's car pulls up and we go to help Dad get out. He's weak and pale and still so thin, but he's smiling. Jack makes pig noises as he helps Dad to the door.

  ‘Jack,’ Mum warns.

  ‘But he's right,’ I say. ‘Dad's half-pig now.’

  Then, as Dad comes into the kitchen he sees our ‘Welcome Home’ sign and our balloons, his face crumples. He starts crying and smiling at the same time.

  I keep my arm clasped around his waist; I'm just so glad he's back.

  CHAPTER 71

  The following Friday I get a text message from Harry. I can go! But have to take Mum, a nurse, and go in hospital car

  I smile then, and text back,

  Tomorrow?

  I can't believe he managed to get permission. Perhaps he pulled the ‘I might be dead in a week’ card.

  We go the next morning. Dad waits in the car, while Mum and I meet Harry at the hospital entrance. He's in a wheelchair with loads of blankets wrapped around him, and he's still wearing Granddad's beanie. There's a lady with him who has the same gingery hair and bright hazel eyes. It can only be his mum. She knows who I am immediately.

  ‘I've heard lots about you,’ she says, winking at Harry, who goes the colour of Ribena.

  Mum laughs and I know exactly what she's going to say next.

  ‘And I've heard lots about Harry.’

  I groan. I walk over to Harry and let the mums talk.

  ‘You all right?’ I say, kneeling down to him.

  He grins. ‘I get to see your swan again.’

  A nurse pulls up in a normal-looking car, which has ‘ambulance’ painted on the side. She wheels Harry over to it and he eases himself onto the back seat. Then she folds up the wheelchair and puts it in the boot. His mum holds open the passenger door, then pauses.

  ‘Why don't you come with us, Isla?’

  Mum pushes me forward. ‘Go on,’ she murmurs. ‘Dad won't mind.’

  I climb in beside Harry. As soon as I'm in he grabs my hand and holds it across the back seat. It's kind of embarrassing, but Harry's mum looks out the window and pretends she hasn't noticed.

  ‘Your hand's boiling!’ I say, surprised and worried at the same time.

  ‘It's OK. I'm not dying yet, I've just got two hot water bottles on my lap,’ he explains. ‘I'm wrapped up like a takeaway!’

  Then he leans forward to speak to the nurse. ‘Does this thing have sirens?’

  The nurse smiles as she shakes her head. ‘It's not a proper ambulance, Harry.’

  I'm glad about that. I don't think I ever want to be in another ambulance for the rest of my life. I look out of the back window to see Mum's car travelling behind us. Dad makes faces at us from the passenger seat, then blows us kisses.

  I turn back to the front quickly, hope Harry hasn't noticed how he's larking about.

  It doesn't take us long to get to Granddad's house. The hospital car goes slowly down the lane so as not to jolt Harry too much. Granddad's waiting in his driveway. His hands are clasped together as if he's a little anxious. If he notices that his beanie's on Harry's head, he doesn't say anything.

  ‘I've made a gap in the fence,’ he tells the nurse. ‘So you can get the wheelchairs through. And I've tried to flatten the ground.’

  Harry gets out of the car and I stand next to him while the nurse gets his wheelchair ready. I look across to see Mum getting one out of the boot of her car, too.

  ‘For Dad,’ she says, wheeling it around to the passenger seat. ‘Heaven forbid that we leave him behind.’

  The nurse laughs. ‘This trip is quite the mission,’ she says. ‘Hope this swan's worth it.’

  Harry and I exchange a look. If only they knew. I keep hold of his hand.

  We set off across the field; Harry first, with the nurse, and me and his mum walking beside them. Mum wheels Dad a few metres behind us. Granddad brings up the rear. He's made a good track for the wheelchairs, considering the ground's so tufty and uneven, but Harry still winces as his body is bounced around.

  The swans start whooping before we get there, and their noise echoes around the landscape. Harry's mum jumps when she hears it.

  ‘That's them,’ Harry tells her. ‘That's the swans.’

  She looks at him curiously. ‘How did you get to know so much about birds?’ she asks.

  Then a flock of starlings shoot up from the field, their wings glinting as they all turn at once. We stop to watch them. They chatter like toys. Harry screws up his face as the nurse moves his chair again, and his mum bends to tuck the blankets around him tighter. ‘We won't stay long,’ she says. ‘We'll just see the swan and go, yeah?’

  She keeps whispering to him, asking if he's all right. Her eyes don't move from his face.

  I look over to Dad wondering if he's OK, too, but he's managing fine. As we get closer to the water, he starts grinning. He tur
ns around to talk to Granddad.

  ‘There must be close to twenty of them,’ he says. ‘How do they fit on the lake?’

  Granddad smiles slowly. ‘They manage. I chopped back some of the weeds so there's more room.’

  I wait for a few moments until they catch up with me.

  ‘I'm impressed,’ Dad says, glancing over at Harry. ‘Birdwatching on the first date, and he's already met the family.’

  ‘Dad!’ I glare at him to shut up.

  Mum throws him a look too. But already his eyes are on the sky, following a small bird that's flapping in bursts.

  ‘Brambling!’ he says, pointing it out to me.

  I look up, catch a glimpse of orange on the bird's chest. Then I'm running ahead to show Harry.

  ‘I've found one of your birds!’ I call.

  Behind me, Dad's got his binoculars out, already looking for more birds. He's talking to Granddad as he does this, telling him about the letter he's just sent to the council about the new power lines. Granddad's murmuring in response.

  The air is heavy with the smell of mud and moss, but it's not cold today. It's one of those rare winter days when the sunlight is bright and warm, and it feels like a gift.

  We wheel Harry and Dad close to the lake's edge. The swans are spread out right across its surface. Harry's eyes are scanning the flock, but I've seen her already. She's right in the middle, her feathers much whiter than they were before. She looks like so many of the others, but I know it's her. She stares at me with her deep, dark eyes, and, even now, I feel the pull to be with her. I know Harry is watching me.

  ‘Is that her?’ he whispers.

  I nod. She leaves the flock and floats towards us. I feel the flutter in my chest as she gets closer. She looks like a mythical creature arriving out of a story. Her new feathers shine like armour. I glance at Harry, see the pinkness in his cheeks. I lean over and hug him, not caring that his mum, and my mum, and Dad are right behind us. Granddad steps up to the bank and crouches down next to me. He's got his eyes fixed on the swan too. There's a faraway smile on his face, and I wonder if he's thinking about Nan. I don't think he's been birdwatching since she died.

  It takes only a few seconds for the swan to swim to our bank. She waddles up onto it. Harry's mum starts forward and puts her hands on the wheelchair handles, but Harry waves her away.

  ‘The swan won't hurt us,’ he tells her. ‘Believe me.’

  Harry's mum keeps standing there, watching anxiously. The swan stands to her full height, only a metre or so away. I hear the nurse gasp, and I'm amazed too by how big she seems. She's grown so much in the last couple of weeks; she's matured into a full-sized swan. She steps closer and Harry's mum can't help but move the wheelchair back a little. So I walk forward to the swan instead.

  The swan presses her beak against the back of my hand. It's wet and cold. A chill goes up my arm. I stroke the top of her head and she closes her eyes. She nuzzles in towards me, gurgling at the back of her throat. She looks up at me and I can guess what she's thinking. She waddles towards the water and slips off the bank. Rising up on the surface of the lake, she beats her wings. I look across at Harry.

  ‘Go on,’ he says. He's also seen the look in her eyes. He knows what it means.

  Dad's nodding at me, too, the smile already on his face.

  I take a few steps. The nurse and Harry's mum are going to think I'm nuts, but I don't care: I start to run. I know she'll keep up. I lengthen my stride into a proper pace and hear the slapping sound as she brings her feet up onto the surface of the lake. The other swans make way for her, and a mallard shoots up suddenly from the reeds. I push myself harder, the thud of my trainers keeping in time with her feet on the water. I beat my arms up and down. The swan's feet lift from the surface and in one smooth, graceful sweep into the sky, she takes off, tucking her feet up as she goes. I feel the fluttering in my chest again, the urge to be up there with her. I keep running a little way, watching her soar higher and higher above me. One long white feather drifts all the way from the sky and lands on the ground at my feet. I bend to pick it up. It's a primary flight feather.

  Then I'm running back to the group to give it to Dad.

  CHAPTER 72

  We drop Harry back in his room. He's more tired than I've ever seen him, but he's happy. He grins every time I catch his eye.

  ‘Don't stay long, Isla,’ Mum whispers.

  I wrap my arms around him and plant a kiss on his neck. He leans back against his pillows and holds onto my hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmurs.

  It feels like there's a huge lump of conversation in my chest; all this stuff I want to tell him before he goes in for his transplant. But I can't find the words to start and I just stare at him in silence. My throat goes tight as I lean forward to stroke his fuzzy head.

  ‘I'll come back before your transplant,’ I say.

  Two days later Mum takes me to the hospital again. I bundle my flying model in a coat and carry it in my arms. Jack comes with me. He's curious about Harry I think, plus it means he can get a lift to football practice. He glances nervously from side to side as we go through the cancer ward.

  ‘It's fine,’ I tell him. ‘It's probably the nicest ward in the hospital.’

  He tries not to stare at a bald kid who passes us.

  None of the nurses stop me. I think they must be used to me by now. They don't even seem to mind that I have a strange-looking bundle in my arms. I keep my head down and drag Jack by the sleeve.

  ‘Wait there a second,’ I tell him, leaving him in the corridor.

  I don't give him a chance to refuse. I just walk straight into Harry's room and shut the door behind me. Harry's sitting up in his bed.

  ‘I've got a present for you,’ I say.

  I drop the bundle on his duvet. He leans forward and takes the coat away without saying a word. He gazes wide-eyed at the flying model for a few long moments then begins to unfold the wings carefully. With all the extra cleaning I've been giving them lately, they look whiter than ever. He holds them delicately, as if they're the most precious things in the world.

  ‘You can't give me these,’ he says.

  ‘I just did.’ I nod at the wall behind him, calculating where all the picture hooks are. ‘Dad wants you to have them, too. I thought we could stick them up there.’

  I sit on his bed, smiling at the puzzled expression on his face.

  ‘Dad's always said swans’ wings are magical,’ I say. ‘I just keep thinking that if I give you these wings, you'll be safe. You know, safe for your transplant. Is that stupid?’

  Harry keeps grinning. ‘You're amazing,’ he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘Thank you.’

  He holds my hand to his chest and I can feel his heartbeat and his Hickman line at the same time. I think of someone else's bone marrow going in through that line, someone else making him strong. I just hope they do. He leans forward, and I think he's going to kiss me again. I shut my eyes, but Jack bursts into the room instead.

  ‘I'm not waiting out there any longer,’ he says. Then, seeing what we were about to do, adds, ‘Sorry.’

  I leap off the bed and grab the flying model. Harry shuffles back into his pillows.

  ‘This is Jack,’ I mumble. ‘My brother. I thought he could help.’

  I dig into my coat to get the string and masking tape I took from the kitchen drawer, and push them quickly into Jack's hand. Then I go over to Harry and help him out of bed.

  ‘Sit on the chair,’ I say. ‘Jack and I will do it.’

  Jack stands on Harry's bedside table and I stand on the bed. Each of us holds a wing. We take down the painting of boats bobbing on the ocean, and the other one of a cherry tree. We tie the wings to their hooks then use masking tape to secure them more firmly. Somehow it works. The wings stretch out across the wall.

  ‘I hope the nurses don't make you take them down,’ I say.

  ‘I won't let them,’ Harry breathes. He keeps staring at me.

  A
fter a moment I realise that Jack's still there, smirking at us.

  ‘You're as bad as her,’ he says, laughing at Harry. ‘Birds of a feather. Isn't that what Dad says?’

  He turns and slips out of the room. My heart beats faster as I hear the click from the door closing, and I lean towards Harry again. I brush my lips to his. I love the way his eyes widen with surprise as I do. I don't want to stop. I can't help thinking that this might be the last time we ever get to do this.

  Harry pulls away, laughing breathlessly.

  ‘Stay with me for a while,’ he says.

  So I do. Neither of us talks much. We just look out of the window at the lake. An unexpected beam of winter sunshine falls into the room, lighting up Harry's face and lighting up the wings, making them both shimmer. The sun is warm on my skin, and makes me think of spring. I hold Harry's hand tighter.

  ‘I'll keep watching the swans,’ I say. ‘They'll still be there when you come out.’

  ‘ If,’ he says quietly. ‘If I do.’

  ‘You will. And when you do, we can go back to Granddad's lake again.’

  He smiles at that. The sunlight seeps into the room, making everything bright . . . the bedside table, the bed, the chair. The whole room is so filled with light. Harry's leaning back into his pillows, his eyes already starting to close.

  Quietly, I get up to leave. When I turn to say goodbye, he's asleep. The wings spread out behind him, glowing. If I squint my eyes, they look as though they're attached to him. He's like a huge, bright angel, soaking in the sunlight to make him strong.

  CHAPTER 73

  Something is whooping in my dreams. The swans are coming. They're flying quick and high, and there are so many of them. It's their long flight: their migration home. They're flying towards the moon. I'm standing outside, on the cold, damp grass, and I'm watching them.

  There's a strange swan at the back. It's got wings, but it doesn't have a long neck. It's bigger than the others. But it's flying fast and confidently, as if it knows where it's going. There's a patch of green covering the bird's head. Granddad's hat! And then I realise, this bird isn't a bird at all. It's Harry. He's migrating with the swans, flying in their flock.