Learning to Fly

by Sandra Atkins

  Learning to Fly

  © 2018 by Sandra Atkins

  All rights reserved

  ISBN: 978-1-62020-801-4

  eISBN: 978-1-62020-802-1

  Illustrations by Emily Brock

  Page Layout by Hannah Nichols

  Ebook Conversion by Anna Raats

  AMBASSADOR INTERNATIONAL

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  Greenville, SC 29601, USA

  www.ambassador-international.com

  AMBASSADOR BOOKS

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  www.ambassadormedia.co.uk

  The colophon is a trademark of Ambassador

  To my two sisters, Ann and Darlene, or, Moose and Moe, as I call them. With love, I thank them for putting up with the nicknames and for hopefully forgiving me for wishing they were brothers.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Information

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Contact Information

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE INTRUDER DID NOT TRY to hide. Sam spotted its eyes, large and glowing dots in the darkness. The circles of gold stared unblinking outside the plain little house on Reid Street. Sam shivered to think of the long claws latched around the tree branch on which it perched, watching. Was it looking inside watching him, or his sister sleeping in the room next to his? He clutched the bedspread up under his neck and listened as the animal announced with a loud screech, hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

  Sam noticed the space at the bottom of his window. He sprang from the bed to close the gap which let the chill night in and exposed him to the dangers outside. The air hung too still and heavy as Grandma’s molasses. The moon floated round as a basketball, with just a tint of orange. Sam leaned into the cold glass of the windowpane. He imagined that if he stood on tiptoes, he could surely reach out and intercept it, bounce the lunar ball around the yard, before pushing it back into the thick syrupy night.

  Seemed like every passing hour Sam awoke to the eerie screams of the creature, hoo-hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo-hoo! One of those times on the way to the bathroom he jiggled the doorknobs on the front and back doors to reassure himself that they were locked. He stuck his head in his sister’s room. The six-year-old opened her eyes and reached for the small throw pillow with the print of a cartoon owl on front. She hugged it and immediately returned to her dreams.

  Sam returned to his bed, but not for long. Soon he awoke again to the screeches outside. He grabbed the corner of the bedsheet and tied a knot in the end. He clutched his newly-transformed sheet just below the bump and held it like a weapon.

  A black bird had hit his window once. This monster which had stationed itself outside could surely break the glass if it decided to enter.

  Sam turned and flopped in his misery. Bloodshot eyes repeatedly glanced at the green neon numbers on the old alarm clock beside him on his night table. As wretched as this night was, he dreaded the coming morning.

  Sam thought of how the evening had started out so good.

  A couple of hours earlier, he had lain on his bed and listened to his favorite team on the radio. Their mother was working the night shift this week at the local hospital. He was responsible for watching his sister. Cassie sat in the family room watching TV, some animal program probably. Their aunt, Mozie, also lived next door and helped to keep an eye on them. Soon the game was over. The final whistle blew, and South Carolina and he were losers.

  Now, he lay here regretting how the night had turned so bad and black. If only they had won! Sam had half-heartedly made a bet with a classmate at school that his team would win. Now, he would be forced to face the music, the sing-song chants of victory in the hallways. Not to mention, the ten dollars he needed to come up with. If Mama found out, there would be a higher price to pay.

  The owl shrieked again, mocking him. Sam tried to cover his head with his pillow, but the space turned as suffocating as the rest of his life had become. Here lately, the air everywhere seemed difficult to take in. The nocturnal world seemed to mock him also. The lucky crickets laughed at him. The tree frogs tormented him, and that owl just would not shut up.

  Cassie loved owls even though he had come to hate the wretched things. She decorated her room with her drawings and any pictures she could find. Because of Cassie, and the bird which had decided to park itself in the oak tree outside, her teacher had arranged for a farmer friend to present his barn owl for show-and-tell. Now, his sister talked on and on of nothing else.

  Sam’s head vibrated with the most terrible noise on earth at that moment. The buzzer on the clock blasted its timely message, time to get up!, time to get up! Hadn’t he had just closed his eyes? He hurled the covers aside and trumpeted air through his nose in disgust as he dressed.

  Sam slumped at the small table in the kitchen with his head drooped over his soggy Fruit Loops. He must have been dozing because before he knew it, he heard the screech of the school bus as it lumbered to a stop in the road out front. Shaking like a big, yellow beast, it belted out a deep breath much the same way Sam had done in response to the alarm. The double doors on its side flapped open, ready to swallow up children and transport them to the schoolhouse.

  Sam opened his mouth wide and let out a holler, “C’mon, Cassie, let’s go. Let’s gooo!”

  Cassie bolted from her room, one shoe on and carrying the other in her hand. Sam screamed louder.

  “Oh stop! Cassie, stop! You know it is bad luck to walk with one shoe on and one off like that!” At least, that’s what Aunt Mozie always said.

  Sam sprinted for the door, still urging his sister on. He opened the entrance so that the bus driver would know to wait for them. Cassie slipped her loafer onto her tiny foot. She skipped after Sam to the bus, looking back at the tree where the owl chose to roost and probably lived nearby.

  All worn out already, it took all of Sam’s willpower to climb the chrome steps that ascended into the belly of the mammoth beast. He paused and scanned the seats until he spotted Luke. He and Cassie flopped down in the seat behind Sam’s best friend.

  Sam and Luke had been friends from the first grade. They shared a lot in common. Each of them had lost a parent—Sam, his dad and Luke, his mom. And, in true blood brother fashion, they had each other’s backs. Just a few months ago, they had encountered a ghost wandering the countryside near Luke’s home. But, that’s another story. Luke jeered when Sam flopped down beside him, “Look what the cat drug in. You look rough!”

  Sam yawned and replied at the same time, “I feel rough. I ain’t slept two hours last night.”

  Cassie sat in silence behind, twirling a locket of baby-fine hair that flew and swirled around her shoulders.

  “Why not? You watch somethin’ scary on TV?”

  “No,” Sam said with a solemn sigh. “I was just about asleep, when that crazy, no-count, good-for-nothin’ bird started up. I hate that thing. It was right outside my window. If I had a gun, I would shoot that stupid thing.”

  Cassie perked up. “No you would not! And, it was right outside my window, not yours. And, it helps me to sleep.”

  Sam sneered and looked at Luke. “Whatever. Oh, I need to borrow ten dollars.”

  Luke shook his head. “Sorry, man. I’m broke.”

  Sam looked at Cassie. “Loan me ten, Cassie.”

  He figured that she probably had close to twenty dollars in that shoe box at home that she had drawn crayon owls all over, and he knew that she kept several ones in her book bag. A few dollars might keep the victors satisfied until he c
ould come up with the rest. And, if Cassie heard the taunts at school directed at him, she would surely blab to Mom about it. What was she saving all that money for anyways?

  “No. You’re mean. You hate the owl,” Cassie huffed and crossed her little arms. “If you apologize . . . maybe.”

  Sam grew angry. A really mean and really underhanded idea occurred to him suddenly. Sam smiled a wicked smile. Cassie would be sorry, real sorry, if she didn’t!

  CHAPTER TWO

  SAM AND CASSIE BOARDED THE bus the next morning. They bounced along the usual route to school for what would be their last day before Thanksgiving vacation began. All the children watched with wonderment as their breaths materialized into white puffs of vapor in the cold air. The beastly vehicle groaned with each start, stop, and turn. At the end of the day, after returning each rider home, the big, yellow slugs of buses would park their metal bodies side by side and hibernate for a week.

  Luke raised himself from his seat slightly to dig something from his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled green wad and held it in the air before Sam.

  “I found a fiver, if that will help,” he offered.

  “Nah,” Sam replied with a wave of his hand, “That’s okay.” Whispering so Cassie couldn’t overhear, he explained, “I told Mom that I needed ten dollars to pay for a school project.”

  Luke proclaimed, “You do like to live dangerously, my friend.”

  Directing his voice towards his sister, Sam coughed, “Speaking of danger, that ‘killer’ owl hooted all night long again.”

  Cassie responded, as Sam knew she would. “He does not hoot. Like Mr. Miller told us in class, it’s more of a ‘who’ than a ‘hoot’.”

  Sam taunted, “That thing is deciding who it will attack and eat for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Cassie gripped the back of the seat in front of her and pulled her little body forward. “Uh, uh. It is not.” Her almost white, fly-away hair, which always looked as if she’d been in a hurricane, shook with her excitement. “My owl is not a killer.”

  Sam had hooked her. Now, all he needed to do was reel her in like a prize fish. “Did you say your owl? Those owls do not belong to you, the owl at home or the one at school. They’re both wild animals.”

  Now, he decided to invent some of the story. Mixing lies in with the truth made the lies seem all the more believable. Slowly, he continued, “And, when the moon is full, like last night, they pick themselves a victim. I think that’s why that creature has camped out in our yard. He’s after you!”

  Cassie’s eyebrows lowered and seemed to push her whole face down a bit. “”Wh . . . wh . . . why would it want me? Unlike you, I love it.”

  Sam groaned and made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Oh, Cassie, that wild thing don’t care that you love it. It loves the taste of young eyeballs and young blood. It can swoop down and pick up little humans easier than big people.”

  Sam paused. Cassie sucked in a deep gulp of air. “Oh, Cassie, did you talk to it? I bet you did. And, you probably talked to that owl at school, too, didn’t you?” Sam could read his little sister like a book.

  Cassie nodded as she lifted her chin slightly and stated. “YES, I DID! AND . . . I named both of them. And . . . I’m not going to tell you what I named them.”

  “Oh, no!” Sam shrieked as he smacked both his cheeks with his palms. “You didn’t! And, I bet you told them your name.”

  Cassie scrunched up her face tight, and Sam knew that she had done exactly that. She began to twirl locks of her hair with her index finger.

  What he said almost made him feel bad, almost, but he had to teach Cassie a lesson. Better that she learn today the ways of the world from her brother, than be laughed at by her classmates later. Plus, he was older and she had defied him. Cassie needed to learn her place so Sam kept going. “Please, don’t talk to anyone about what you’ve done, Cassie. If you keep quiet until the next full moon, both birds will forget, and they won’t come after you. You’ll be safe. But if you blab about it all over, the attack will be even more fierce. And . . . one of ’em might decide to come after Persimmon.”

  Cassie gasped at the mention of Persimmon, her orange tiger cat. She named him after she had taken a bite from an unripe persimmon in the backyard. Sam remembered that it was he who had plucked the piece of fruit from the tree. Most everyone knew that a persimmon that was still green tastes as bitter as can be. With a muffled scream, Cassie had puckered up her tiny mouth and ran for the house. Mom had agreed to let her have a cat after that.

  Cassie wrinkled her forehead. “I’ll watch out and make sure that nothing happens to my Persimmon.”

  Making the most sympathetic face that he could without laughing, he said, “Ah, no. You’ll never see it comin’. Where do you think that bird got the nickname ‘the ghost owl’?” Sam remembered that fact from Mr. Miller’s talk. He had hung around to listen after helping the man unload his cages.

  The bus lumbered into the circular drive at the side of the school building. Before the vehicle came to a good stop, Sam hopped along to the front, raising himself up with the help of his hands pushing off the tops of the seats on either side. Everyone else exited calmly along the aisle in single file, and then down and out of the jaws of the yellow giant. Sam and Luke watched as Cassie marched along the concrete walkway towards the entrance of the school. She stared down at her feet, and then darted her eyes from side to side as if looking for something.

  Sam witnessed the effect of his tall tale on his sister. He noticed that all her joy had flown from her like one of her beloved birds. The fear had scared it away. Mom always bragged on how bubbly a personality Cassie had. Well, the bubbles had floated away and burst in the cold breeze, to land on the frost which covered the ground.

  Luke asked Sam, “Why’d you tell her all that stuff? If I had a sister, I’d be nice to her.” Luke lived with his Aunt Brenda, and had no brothers or sisters.

  Sam looked at his best friend and answered. “It’s my job to keep her in line, that’s why.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE TALL, METAL MONSTER TEETERED to a stop again on the road in front of Sam’s house. It seemed to snort the familiar air as it waited, and shook, and shuddered its impatience. The doors blew outward as the beast exhaled, a signal for him and Cassie to disembark.

  The little house on Reid Street sat almost at the end of the bus route. Only Luke remained aboard. He led the way to the front as they exited. To help the driver, Luke checked each space as he passed for any articles left behind by the riders. Sam thought the rows of seats looked like the ribs of an extinct dinosaur and his friend the archaeologist touching each bone as he passed.

  Sam felt Cassie tug at the back of his shirt. “Sam, wait on me!” she pleaded as they reached the front lawn. Then she let go, dropped her arm to her side, and said, “Oh, that’s right. This is daytime.”

  Sam saw another opportunity to scare Cassie. “Mr. Miller said that the barn owl has been spotted flying in the daylight.”

  Sam glanced down as Cassie bumped into his legs as she passed. He took off at a half-run thinking that if she latched on again as he zoomed around her, he would pull her through the air. He knew better when she called out, “Sam! Wait up!”

  Upon reaching the front door, Sam heard Cassie squeal over the sound of the dinosaur grunting and straining to gain speed. He watched as his sister moved faster than the bus that crept along at that moment. Cassie bumped him again as she whizzed past him into the house. Sam followed.

  Mama called from the kitchen. “Where’s the fire? Why such a hurry?”

  Cassie made a bee-line for Mama. Aunt Mozie sat with their mama at the table. Cassie almost knocked her cup over as she jumped into her mother’s open arms.

  “Careful, child,” scolded Mama.

  Aunt Mozie sighed. “I wish I had that much energy.”

  Sam collapsed on the sofa in the den. He heard Cassie as she carefully asked Mama, “Mama, what do you know about owls?” Sam knew by her questi
on that she believed his warning about the consequences of telling anyone.

  “Well,” Mama pondered as she tickled Cassie. Sam could tell from the giggles. “I do know that my girl gets absurd over birds!”

  There they go again, Sam thought. He rolled his eyes. Cassie and Mama played this stupid rhyming game, which he considered to be so lame.

  “Really, Mama,” Cassie pleaded. But since it was Cassie’s turn, Sam heard her respond with, “And the truth Mama, because we hate to fabricate!”

  Cassie dropped the ‘r’ when she tried to say the big word, but Sam knew that Cassie understood that it meant ‘to lie’.

  Aunt Mozie jumped in, “Remember, Alice, what Grandpa used to say?”

  Mama roared with laughter. “Oh yes, Cassie. Grandma’s grandma was a full-blooded Cherokee. Had beautiful, long, jet-black hair. She always said that her people would put owl feathers in the children’s drinking water.”

  “But, why?” Sam heard Cassie ask.

  Mama added, “It was supposed to keep the children awake. But, I can’t imagine why they would want to do that.”

  Aunt Mozie snorted as she joined Mama in laughter again.

  “Do you work tonight?” Cassie asked Mama mournfully.

  “One more night,” Mama chanted, “And, I’ll be home with you for a whole week. My Cassie, she gets in dithers over critters.”

  No sooner had Mama spoken these words, Sam heard a commotion as Cassie scampered through the kitchen and den calling, “Persimmon, Persimmon!”

  Sam smiled a wicked smile. The silly game and the laughter had ended. Now, Cassie feared again, for her cat.

  After supper, when Mama left for work, Sam looked in on his sister before retiring to his room. He thought aggravating Cassie was even more enjoyable than watching a scary movie. She lay on her bed. One hand rested on Persimmon’s back, the other lay across her own heart. She looked as if she was reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.

  Sam slept well that night in spite of the owl’s hullabaloo. Each cry from the bird reminded him of the fact that Cassie was suffering. But, punishment was punishment darn it, it wasn’t supposed to be easy. He fell asleep feeling very satisfied with himself.