Altitude

by Niel Bushnell

  ‘Don’t move! Don’t move anything.’

  It was Abigail, her voice further away now, trembling with fear.

  ‘I’m not moving,’ Tam said between breaths.

  ‘How are you doing that?’ Abigail asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  Abigail paused, then said, ‘Flying.’

  ‘I’m . . . I’m not flying.’

  ‘Well, OK, floating. How’re you floating?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Tam screamed, and she felt herself drop a few centimetres, her stomach lurching like she was on a sickening roller coaster ride. She held her breath, tensing everything once more. As her body settled again she continued in a whisper, ‘I’m not flying, I’m not floating. I’m . . . falling.’

  ‘Kinda looks like floating from here. You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes! Now get down here and help me.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Abigail said. ‘Hang on.’

  Tam waited. She guessed ten minutes passed; it was hard to tell. The rain eased and the sun broke through, warming her back.

  Eventually Abigail came into view beneath her.

  ‘Took your time,’ Tam complained quietly.

  ‘Had to walk round. I took the path. Didn’t want to take the short cut, like you,’ Abigail said as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Tam asked, incredulous.

  ‘Taking your picture.’ Abigail held up the phone to Tam. ‘Smile.’

  ‘Hey! Stop it! You’ve got to get me down.’

  The phone clicked. Abigail looked at the screen. ‘You’re really dark against the sky. I’ll try again.’

  ‘Forget your phone! Put it down or I’ll ram it into your stupid face,’ Tam cried. Her body dropped two metres, making her stomach retch. She emptied her mouth, gasped, eyes closed, body tensed again.

  Abigail looked down at the puddle of vomit discolouring the rocks beneath Tam. ‘Gross.’ She put her phone away and folded her arms, looking up at Tam with an impatient stare. ‘And you want me to help you?’ she asked, sounding angry.

  Tam took a breath, calming her words. ‘Please, just get me down.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can. This is really weird,’ Abigail observed. ‘Are you on a wire or something? It’s pretty impressive.’

  Tam clenched her teeth, her lips tight. ‘Christ, Long Bone, get me down!’

  Abigail opened her mouth, shocked, as if she’d been slapped again. She glared at Tam then she rubbed her bruised cheek, her eyes narrowing. She turned her back and began to walk away.

  Fear and desperation overtook Tam’s anger. ‘Don’t leave me, please,’ she cried as loud as she dared.

  Abigail stopped, glancing back over her shoulder.

  ‘Look, OK,’ Tam continued, ‘I’m sorry I hit you, but—’

  ‘Why?’ Abigail interrupted.

  Tam stared at the other girl. ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why are you sorry?’

  ‘Because . . . I am. Please, Abigail, can you help me—’

  ‘So you do know my name?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. So why are you sorry?’

  Tam seethed, hardly able to contain her frustration. She was about six metres off the ground, drifting very slowly to the right. Could she survive a fall from this height? Maybe. She’d break a few bones for sure. She focused on the ground, willing herself down. She felt her body tremble, shifting slightly.

  ‘Are you trying to get down?’ Abigail asked, the corner of her mouth forming a smirk.

  ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

  ‘A bit, yes,’ Abigail laughed, circling under Tam, pulling her phone out and taking more pictures. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it? You up there, asking me for help.’

  ‘No. That’s what you’re supposed to do: help people.’

  The phone clicked, filling the silence. ‘I know that,’ Abigail said. ‘But you don’t.’

  ‘Can we talk about this once I’m down?’ Tam pleaded. ‘This is getting old now. And I’m wet.’

  Abigail returned to face Tam, arms folded. ‘I’m wet too. Wet and covered in mud. And my face hurts.’

  ‘I said I was sorry.’

  ‘I mean it really, really hurts. I bet it’ll be bruised tomorrow. A big angry purple bruise.’

  Tam scowled. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘You’re a bully, Tamsin Edwards.’

  Tam hesitated. Then, blustering, she said, ‘Am not!’

  ‘You’re a bully, you’ve always been a bully. You’ve picked on people like me since we started school.’

  ‘I do not pick on people.’

  ‘You threw my bag over the wall in Year Eight . . .’

  ‘That was ages ago.’

  ‘. . . and you dripped bleach on my coat in chemistry.’

  A series of images collided inside Tam’s mind. It was as if she was seeing them from a new perspective up there. Doubts clouded her thoughts. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to lower her defences. ‘I didn’t. Maybe Becca did it, not me,’ she said quickly, not giving herself time to think. ‘Please, just help me.’

  Abigail shook her head. ‘You don’t even know you’re doing it, do you? And now you’re saying sorry and you don’t know why you’re saying sorry. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.’

  ‘I didn’t . . .’ Tam faltered. The images wouldn’t go away. Maybe she was a bully. All of her bravado crumbled, leaving her fears exposed. ‘Abigail, I can’t get down and I’m scared.’ Tam was floating in the air, exposed to the elements, exposed to her insecurities. She couldn’t hide her feelings, not any more. Tears choked her words. ‘Please, I’m begging you, help me.’

  Abigail’s face changed, pity and regret taking hold where revenge had been a moment ago. ‘You really are scared, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Abigail began to look around her, searching.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Looking for a stick.’ She stopped and stared at Tam. ‘Maybe I could go back up to the wood and get a branch.’

  ‘And then what?’

  Abigail shrugged. ‘You’re right, we’re going about this the wrong way. How did you get up there anyway?’

  ‘How should I know? Please, just get me down.’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to do. But first we need to figure out how you got up there, then we can work out how to get you down. Like Mr Johnstone says, “Gather information first”.’

  ‘I’m not a science problem.’

  ‘But the method applies. So, what happened?’

  Tam took a breath. Her heart was finally starting to calm down. ‘I was running, I slipped off the path, down over the edge of the quarry wall, I began to fall and then . . . this.’

  ‘Did you mean to fly?’

  ‘No! What sort of question is that?’

  Abigail ignored her. ‘Have you ever flown before, not including in aeroplanes?’

  Tam sighed, defeated. ‘No.’

  ‘What were you thinking about when you fell?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘What were you thinking about?’ Abigail repeated impatiently. ‘It’s a simple enough question.’

  ‘I was . . .’ Tam tried to remember. ‘I was angry . . .’

  ‘That was pretty obvious. But why?’

  Tam looked away.

  ‘OK, you felt angry. What else?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just wanted to get away.’

  Abigail tilted her head to one side, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. ‘From what?’

  Images of home filled Tam’s head, of the one big problem she was trying to avoid. She saw that terrible discussion she’d had with Mum and Dad. She struggled to remember the details of what they had said, but she’d never forget the look on their faces. Most of all she could remember how she felt, that overwhelming urge to get away. She began to rise.

  ‘You’re going up,’ Ab
igail whispered, in awe.

  ‘I know. How do I make it stop?’

  Excited, Abigail shouted, ‘You’re thinking about getting away, about escape. Hold onto that thought.’

  Tears dropped from Tam’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to go up.’

  ‘Just try it.’

  Tam closed her eyes. She thought about life at home, about Dad, about how she felt about the news. Even with her eyes closed she could feel her body moving higher.

  ‘That is awesome!’ Abigail clapped, jumping up and down.

  ‘It’s not awesome.’

  ‘OK, clear your mind. Try not to think about running away. Think about coming down to me, where it’s safe.’

  Tam tensed, her body drifting upwards. ‘It’s not working.’

  ‘Just relax.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say down there. You’re not the one floating above a quarry, soaking wet and probably about to die! Oh God, I’m gonna die in a quarry.’

  ‘Relax,’ Abigail said, stretching out the word until it turned into a sigh.

  Tam’s body was starting to ache. She felt as if she was tensing every muscle, especially around her stomach. She took a breath, trying to put her fear aside and ease the strain in every part of her body. She let her chest open, taking in air, blowing it out slowly. Then she focused on her shoulders, letting them drop. Her arms followed, hanging down towards the ground. She watched her fingers as she stretched and unstretched them. It was as if they belonged to someone else.

  ‘You’re doing it,’ Abigail shouted. ‘You’re coming down.’

  ‘Am I?’ Tam couldn’t tell, the movement was so slight.

  ‘Yes, that’s it. Just try to relax some more.’

  The sensation was almost pleasant, like floating in a swimming pool and letting yourself drift to the bottom. Tam began to smile.

  Laughing, Abigail raised her hands towards Tam’s. ‘That’s it, I can almost touch you.’

  As the distance became smaller Tam’s anxiety evaporated, leaving in its place an odd sense of elation and excitement. She was flying!

  Suddenly she shot upwards again, spinning and rolling.

  ‘Shit!’ she cried out, unable to focus on the ground any more. Her world was revolving, faster and faster, a strobe of blue then brown.

  ‘Concentrate!’ Abigail called up to her. ‘Relax.’

  Tam spun higher and higher, faster and faster. Her vision began to tunnel and she felt like she might pass out. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to calm her mind.

  Slow down, relax, slow down.

  The spinning eased and Tam managed to get herself facing down again. She saw Abigail staring up at her, pacing through the quarry. She looked so small. Tam’s head was dizzy and she felt an uncomfortable tightness in her stomach.

  ‘Are . . . are you OK up there?’ Abigail called to her.

  Tam put her hand to her mouth, but it was too late. Her stomach tensed and she threw up again, watching as it fell to the ground with a loud splatter.

  ‘Hey!’ Abigail cried out as she ran to dodge the volley. ‘You’re splashing me.’

  Tam sucked in air, sweat forming on her brow. She rested there, gradually feeling better, then she focused on the ground again.

  After a moment she began to descend, edging closer and closer to the earth.

  ‘Better,’ Abigail encouraged her. ‘Keep your focus this time, OK?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Tam said through gritted teeth.

  She reached out to Abigail and her body tilted towards her, as if she was diving. Tam suppressed the bubbling excitement that was stirring again inside her.

  Finally, the girls’ hands touched. Abigail lowered Tam to the ground and she landed on all fours, rolling onto her side. She lay there for several long moments, panting, staring up at the clouds in the sky, one hand gripping Abigail’s.

  ‘That was fun,’ Abigail said enthusiastically.

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’

  ‘You flew! Really flew. I saw you. It was . . . amazing,’ Abigail laughed, helping Tam to her feet.

  ‘Don’t let go of me,’ Tam pleaded.

  ‘I won’t,’ Abigail reassured her, smiling.

  Tam’s head was still light, and she feared she might fly back up into the air at any moment. Her fingers clung onto Abigail as they walked back towards the path in the wood. The last hour felt surreal, like she was now waking from a nightmare. Beside her Abigail talked enthusiastically, but Tam could barely take it in.

  ‘. . . like nothing I’ve seen before. I mean, people don’t do this, do they? Wait till everyone hears about this. You’ll be famous, be on the telly, and—’

  ‘No.’ Tam grabbed hold of Abigail by both arms, forcing her to stop and face her. ‘You’ll tell no one.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No one! This never happened, none of it. Do you understand?’

  ‘Tam, this is huge, we can’t just keep it to our—’

  Tam shook Abigail, pushing her to the ground. ‘You’ll tell no one. You’ll never speak of this again. If you say a single word about this to anyone, I’ll kill you, understand? Kill you.’

  Abigail, eyes wide with shock, nodded quickly.

  ‘Good.’ Tam turned away and marched up the path, not looking back.

  THREE

  The shower felt good, the hot water cleaning away the dirt from Abigail’s skin. Her cheek tingled as the water pushed against her bruise, but not enough to be painful. She wondered if it would show in the morning, if she would be able to conceal it under makeup. Maybe one of the teachers might notice, maybe they’d ask questions, maybe they’d join the dots . . .

  Maybe.

  Part of her would welcome the intrusion into her life, the opportunity to finally end the cycle of abuse, regardless of the consequences. A chance to help her mum too . . . Her stomach trembled just thinking about doing it. She dared herself not to put makeup on tomorrow, to show off her bruise and to hell with whatever might happen next.

  But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t be the one to break her family apart. That was up to Mum, not her.

  Abigail pushed against the bruise, testing it, seeing how much pressure she could apply before it really hurt. After a few seconds of discomfort she took her hand away and switched off the shower. As she dried herself the pain subsided until it was just a numb afterglow. But the fear in the pit of her stomach remained and she knew what she’d do tomorrow.

  She’d wear makeup. She’d hide the bruise from the teachers and let things work out in their own way. It wasn’t up to her to fix this. She was just a spectator, nothing more. Besides, things would get better eventually, she told herself, repeating it often enough that she almost began to believe it.

  Abigail pulled on her dressing gown and hid in her room, making sure the door was shut tight. She put some music on and turned it up loud, letting the relentless bass rhythm overwhelm her thoughts. She closed her eyes, resting, recalling the unnatural, impossible image of a girl floating in mid-air. Had it really happened? She pulled out her phone, wanting to be certain she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. But there was the proof: a dozen pictures of Tamsin Edwards suspended in the air. Some of the images were dark and blurry, but there was no mistaking it – Abigail had witnessed someone flying. An actual person flying, like in a movie. It had been an amazing thing to see, a moment of unearthly beauty that had almost restored Abigail’s faith.

  Almost.

  If only it hadn’t been Tam. Anyone was more worthy than Tam. Someone else and Abigail might have considered it a proper miracle. Someone more . . . more . . . She didn’t know what. Just not Tamsin Edwards. Anyone but Tam . . . maybe even Abigail. And why not? she pondered. Why not me?

  What did it feel like? To float above the ground, completely free of gravity. She tried to imagine it, grinning to herself.

  So what if it was Tamsin Edwards? Did it matter? Abigail couldn’t shake the feeling of exhilaration, having shared that moment. For the first time she felt like she was on
the inside of an exclusive club instead of being the one on the outside looking in. She was special and she had the pictures to prove it. She’d been there, the only witness to a unique event. Excitement overwhelmed her and Abigail sang along to the music, letting her tuneless voice soar as she thumped her feet into the bed.

  She looked again at the pictures and considered sharing them online. She wanted to show everyone she had been there, that she had witnessed the moment of flight. After all, what was the point of being special if no one knew about it? She chose her favourite image, adjusted the brightness and thought about where best to post it.

  Abigail put the phone down, feeling guilt sicken her mouth. She was betraying a trust, even if that trust was with Tamsin Edwards. This was between her and Tam, no one else. If she shared it she’d lose control of it. And anyway, everyone would just take the piss! They’d say she faked it. They’d drain the joy from it and make it poisonous. There would be nothing special left.

  No, she’d keep this to herself for as long as she could. But it was no good pretending; the urge to talk about it, to share her experience was overwhelming. There was only one person she could talk to, she realized, only one person she could share this with.

  Damn it! Tamsin Edwards.

  Abigail searched through Tam’s social media profiles until she found what she wanted. Some people were crap at hiding their personal information.

  She saved the number into her address book and began to text her. Finished, she was about to hit send when she hesitated, doubts creeping in once more. This was Tamsin Edwards, after all. Abigail didn’t text people like Tam. They had never been friends and they never would be. She thought for a moment, playing out different scenarios in her mind until she concluded that she should just forget about the whole thing and focus on revising for her GCSEs instead. That was the right thing to do.

  Yes, step away, leave it alone. That was the only thing to do.

  Abigail stared at the text, immobile with indecision.

  The music finished and the room fell silent. Downstairs she could hear the muffled voices of her parents. They were arguing again, stuck on the same old cycle.

  She put on another track and, comforted by the music, she returned to her phone. She couldn’t bring herself to delete the text. But right now she didn’t dare send it either.