by Laura Quimby
But something went wrong, and his wings flapped madly, wrongly, and he plummeted back to the ground, landing on the icy crust with an excruciating thud.
“He can’t fly,” Kyle said.
“Come on, kid … Try again.” Jake was watching through his camera lens.
The snow ghost flew away and returned again. She did this over and over. Charlie chased after her, lifting up and falling, and then running after her like a wounded bird, earthbound and heavy.
Finally, she stepped down from the sky, taking solid form. Ruffling her huge wings, she reached out a delicate hand to Charlie and then blurred back to light and took flight. This time I lost sight of her. She was gone.
Charlie fell to his knees.
I couldn’t take it. “Where did she go?” I yelled, and grabbed Jake.
“I lost her,” Jake said. He shook his head. “I got nothing here.”
I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. I jumped up and rushed out from under the tarp. The cold was a familiar slap. I was getting used to the harsh Arctic reality.
Kyle followed me, shouting at the sky. “Come back here! He’s one of you. He’s yours. Don’t leave him!”
The sky was an empty pit of darkness expanding above us. The snow ghost was high beyond the floodlight. But she was there, waiting. And then something occurred to me: It wasn’t her fault. She had done all she could do. Charlie had to follow. He had to mimic his own kind. Like a bird being pushed from the nest, Charlie had to learn to fly, not as a boy but as a creature of light.
I ran to him and grabbed his arm. “Charlie, you can’t fly because you are too heavy.”
He reached out and touched my cheek. “Heavy,” he said.
“You need to change. You need to be like her.” I pointed to the surge of light that zinged above the compound. “Mimic her. Be like her.”
His eyes were dark black orbs staring into mine. “She’s only here for me. If I go…” He paused. “Once I change, I can’t come back.”
“You can’t?” Kyle asked. “Are you sure?”
Sadness filled his face and he nodded. “I will be gone from here. From my new friends Maya and Kyle and the camera boy.” He nodded toward the tarp.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. The reality of saying good-bye was sudden and biting, but it was the only way. “You can’t stay here. It’s not right. Please, try.”
Kyle stood beside me, hearing the entire exchange. “You gotta do it, Charlie. Friends never forget each other.” He pulled his glove off and placed his left hand with the missing fingers on Charlie’s chest. “It was cool that you wanted to be like me.”
Charlie’s chest glowed.
“Like you, friend. I won’t forget.” Charlie reached out and handed me the tag that had once hung on his ear. I gasped. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to think of what Katsu had done. The plastic tag looked ugly in my gloved hand. “Keep it,” he said. “You made me leave the lab when I was afraid.”
“I’ll miss you,” I said. “But you don’t belong here. Not in a lab or frozen in the ground. You deserve to go home.” I was numb with cold and something else.
“Good-bye, Old Girl.”
Charlie looked upward. Slowly his body was illuminated from the inside, and the glow spread from his core to his arms and legs. He lifted off the ground. His limbs blurred into a river of energy, just like the snow ghost. He rose up over the compound and flew through the air, circling us.
Kyle and I cheered.
Charlie made another pass. His form glowed and lifted higher and higher until he joined the snow ghost in the sky. He had made it! The snow ghost joined him in flight, and they both disappeared into the sky.
Kyle and I stood in the compound until Jake crawled out from under the tarp.
“Let’s go inside,” he said. “Get warmed up.”
“Where do you think he went?” Kyle asked as we sat in the mess hall, drinking hot chocolate.
“Far,” Jake said. “Like over the Milky Way.”
“He went home,” I said, swallowing a gulp of the lovely warm drink.
Kyle walked me back to my room. His mom was asleep. Before he left, he handed me a tiny plastic mammoth. He must have grabbed it off Charlie’s bed in the lab.
“Thanks,” I whispered. “Though we never did find the mammoth.”
“You don’t find the mammoth—the mammoth finds you,” Kyle whispered back.
The next morning, it was time for all of us to pack up and head out. Katsu left the station with … Charlie. We all saw the dream vision of Charlie board the helicopter and leave. Once they were gone, Charlie was Katsu’s responsibility, and if he happened to disappear suddenly, then Katsu would only have himself to blame. The contents of his silver case had been ruined. Root beer and tissue samples don’t mix. But before he left, he assured Randal that no harm had been done, and he was satisfied that their deal was complete.
Kyle and I promised to stay connected. He gave me the stuffed polar bear as a memento of our time at the station. Karen did conferences in Washington, D.C., all the time and said that she would arrange a visit. I told them they could stay with Dad and me anytime. Jake gave us his blog address, so we could follow his filmmaking exploits. He never did show us what he had captured on film the previous night, but I couldn’t wait to see his documentary when he was finished.
Randal personally took me to meet up with Dad at the hospital; from there we went on to the airport to fly home. Randal was in rare spirits. I climbed aboard the helicopter and got the center seat again, this time sharing it only with Cinnamon. My new pup curled up next to me, and I secured her harness. I hoped Dad wouldn’t mind too much—Randal had insisted that I keep her.
Justice smiled at me with his bright white teeth. He had his aviator sunglasses on and looked like the charismatic pilot he was. “Let’s get this bird in the air and get you home.”
I couldn’t agree more.
I looked out the window as the chopper lifted up, half expecting to see pages from the broken book fluttering by. Flying wasn’t so bad, now that Charlie had showed me how. It could even be fun—freeing.
Kyle was right. It was better not to know how a book would end. That way, I got to decide and write my own ending.
It felt good to be home. D.C. was filled with people lounging on blankets, soaking in the fresh air, finally free from winter’s cold grasp. Spring had exploded all over the place, leaving a trail of fresh green grass and daffodils everywhere. The snow had melted and the temperature had warmed. White had disappeared.
Zoey and I were hanging out in my bedroom, dreaming of the future. My next expedition was going to be to Pluto. Zoey and I had it all figured out. Space tourism was not that far off. Well, OK, it was pretty far off, and then there was the whole money problem. But you never know when you might meet a billionaire with lots of time on his hands and an adventurous spirit.
I sat at my desk, staring at the computer screen. It flickered to life, and Mom’s face appeared. She was at her apartment across town but wanted to see me right away. Her face beamed. We always had our window to each other’s lives.
“How was it? Tell me everything!” Her tan had faded since the last time we’d talked.
“I’m seeing you tomorrow. Can’t you wait?” I said, curling my legs up under me.
“No.” She stuck her bottom lip out, pretending to pout. “This was your first expedition and I want to hear everything.”
I pulled something from my bag and pretended to hide it from her. “Well, there is one thing I could show you.”
“I knew it!” she said. “Show me.”
“Tell me again what your first discovery was?” I smiled slyly at her. I loved this story.
“Oh, you don’t want to hear about that,” she said, waving the suggestion off.
“I do,” Zoey said, and stuck her face in front of the computer. “Please tell.”
Mom sighed. “Well, it was a very, very important discovery. Although I hate to brag.”
> “Really,” I said. “Oh, go on. Please brag.”
“Um, no. No, I can’t. You go, tell me about the Arctic.” Mom tried to stall.
“You first.”
“Oh, all right. My first discovery was a bone.”
“A bone…” Zoey glanced at me, expecting more to the story.
“Well, I thought it was a bone, but it wasn’t really a bone.” Mom scrunched up her face.
“Tell Zoey what it really was.” I loved this part.
“I thought I had made a huge discovery, so I created a fuss and called together the lead professor on the dig and everyone over to see my fabulous find.” Mom shrugged. “It turned out my groundbreaking discovery was a stick. A petrified stick.”
“A stick?” Zoey laughed.
“I was thankful, really. A day later, another scientist discovered some petrified goat dung. I always said at least mine wasn’t dung.”
“Way to look on the bright side,” I said.
“Now spill it,” she said. “What do you have there on the desk?” She tried to peer down through the computer screen.
I held up a feather to the camera so she could see. It was one of Charlie’s. I probably shouldn’t have, but I didn’t think anyone would mind. I turned it around to give her a good view.
“Guess what it is,” I said.
Mom squinted, concentrating. “Um, a goose feather … No, no, it’s from a swan.”
“Nope. Try again.”
“It’s from an exotic bird. A magical bird. Um … a Vegas showgirl,” Mom joked, and we all laughed.
Zoey leaned over my shoulder and stared into the camera. “You’ll never guess.”
“I give up. Tell me. Where did you get the feather from?”
A raised my chin and told her. “I got it from a boy.”
“A boy.” Both of her eyebrows rose. “A boy with feathers.”
“Yep. He had wings.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“And what did you do with the winged boy?” she asked me. “Did you keep him? Did you put him in a museum? Can I see this amazing boy?”
“No, you can’t. I’m sorry.” I shook my head.
“Why not? Where did he go?”
“We set him free, of course.”
“Of course,” Zoey said. “What else would you do with a winged boy? You can’t keep him. Though I would have loved to have a winged boy to hang out with.”
“His mom missed him,” I said. “He wanted to go home.”
“I bet she did,” Mom said. “I’m glad you sent him home. And I’m even happier that you’re home.”
“Me too. The Arctic was fun, but a person can only take so much snow.”
“It was tough not having you here when I got back,” Mom said. “I had to wait for you this time.”
“Well, the life of a scientist is a tough one,” I said. “But you’ll get used to it.”
The smell of lasagna drifted in from the kitchen. “Time for dinner,” Dad called.
A moment later, Cinnamon yapped at Dad’s feet as he hobbled into my room, sporting a walking cast on his ankle. He was wearing two huge oven mitts and carrying a casserole dish. He tilted it forward so we could all see it.
“It’s green!” Zoey yelled.
“Green lasagna?” Mom asked. “Is this a new delicacy?”
“Yes, a new invention. I call it Martian lasagna.”
“I love it!” Zoey said.
“On that note, I’m signing off. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mom smiled. “And save me a piece of lasagna.”
Zoey and Dad took the dinner into the dining room. Alone, I stroked the feather a few times before putting it in a small box in my dresser drawer.
In fairy tales, the princess is always encased in a glass coffin, waiting for her prince to come and wake her up. When we found Charlie, we took the fairy tale into our own hands and breathed life into him, not with a kiss but with a push. Had Charlie been like the mythical boy Icarus, tumbling from the sky after his curiosity got the better of him and he flew too close to the sun? Charlie had fallen into a frozen world, stranding him in an icy tomb until we cracked open his prison and set him free.
Scientists always look for links to connect the steps that people have taken on their journey, moving from the past through the present to the future. But Charlie was more than a link. He was a bridge, but a bridge to where, none of us knew.
But maybe one day I would find out.
Special thanks to my critique group members Elizabeth Buck, Robin Galbraith, and Farrar Williams for all their help and support. And thanks to my editor, Maggie Lehrman.
Laura Quimby is the author of The Carnival of Lost Souls, which Booklist called “a nicely paced, clever mix of ghost story and sideshow spectacle.” She holds a degree in English literature from Towson University. She lives with her family in Maryland. Visit her online at www.lauraquimby.com.
This book was designed by Maria T. Middleton. Production of this book was overseen by Alison Gervais.
LAURA QUIMBY is the author of The Carnival of Lost Souls, about which the Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books says: “Young fans will be as intrigued by glimpses into the always mysterious and fascinating Houdini as by Jack’s compelling quest.” Laura holds a degree in English literature from Towson University. She lives with her family in Maryland. Visit her online at www.lauraquimby.com.
JACKET ART © 2012 ERWIN MADRID
JACKET DESIGN BY MARIA T. MIDDLETON
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