A warm tingle goes down my back. If Andrew were an elf, he’d be there. Wait! Elves know magic. Unicorns are magical creatures, so they’ll be in the forest. Won’t they?
“What if I choose wrong?” I whisper.
“What if you choose right?” Sara says.
I check out each direction one more time, and am surprised how loudly my wings make their drra drra whir when I look toward the forest. That’s what they were trying to tell me earlier. I could have left ages ago if I’d known; if my guide had at least hinted at what to listen for.
“Let’s go to the forest,” I tell her.
Sara taps the left button on her earphones once and waits for me to do the same. “Lead on.”
My wings sweep me in the air. And I promptly forget all about clues and treasure hunts because I’m hundreds of feet above ground level.
In my dreams there’s no wind. I never feel cold. Or disoriented. I’m not breathless. But right now, all that is happening to me, plus my body tingles all over. I want to shout and yell and scream because this is the best feeling in the entire world.
I thrust my arms out and twist to the left. My wings furl back and I go into a dive. Sara is shoulder to shoulder with me, laughing as loudly as I am. Good thing I have goggles, otherwise I’d have to close my eyes against the wind or fly much slower, which I’d hate to do.
“It’s an entirely different sensation when you’re over a forest,” Sara says.
Her words hit me like a glass of icy cold water. If this is the wrong way, I’ll lose my wings. “The clues should be more specific. It would make more sense if I knew what to expect.”
“But what’s the fun of that?”
“At least I’d know whether I’m making a mistake.”
“How do you feel now?” Sara asks.
“Nervous. Excited.”
“Do you feel you’re going in the right direction?”
“Maybe.” It makes sense for unicorns to live in the forest of the elves. “But I don’t know. We could be going on a wild goose chase.”
“Don’t worry about it for now,” Sara says. “Just enjoy the ride.”
“But if I don’t solve this clue, I’ll lose my wings. Don’t you care?”
“Of course. But I trust you, Melody.”
“You do?” No one has ever told me that. But how can I believe her after what she said about me? She didn’t seem to trust me then.
“Let’s go lower where there’ll be less turbulence,” Sara says.
“Can we fly through that cloud first?” I point at the one I’d seen earlier, which is directly below us now.
“You bet.”
We zip toward the cloud and enter.
It’s like being in a thick, icy fog. The wind screams in my ears. Then it slams into my back, my chest, shoving me up and down, side to side. My knapsack twists around my waist and I grab it, afraid it will loosen and fall off. I hold tight to my goggles with my other hand. This isn’t what I’d expected at all.
My wings don’t seem to mind though. They plough through the cloud effortlessly. I’m glad when I’m out and the sun’s warmth caresses my face.
“Did you enjoy it?” Sara asks.
“Not really.” My lips are stiff and cold, it’s hard to form words. I’ll never go near another cloud again. “There’s Sean.” He and his guide are heading in the direction of the forest. There’s no sign of the others. “Do you think he got the same clue as me?”
“It’s possible,” Sara says.
I glare at her, but she doesn’t notice.
Below us, I see what looks like a village with tiny crooked streets and tall spindly buildings. I want to explore, but don’t think I have time. The forest of the elves is still far away and after the sun sets, my treasure will be gone.
“This is a good height to stay at,” Sara says. “And the air is much warmer, too.”
“How high up are we?”
“About sixty feet.”
The wind tousling the feathers on my wings feels like a breeze blowing through my hair when it’s loose. And I realize something. My wings are a part of me now. No way can I lose them. No way will I let anyone take them away from me.
“Swans.” Sara points at a flock of huge birds some distance away, flying toward us. “If we’re lucky they’ll turn and join us. Like dolphins following a boat.”
The swans move so fast, within minutes I’m able to make out their faces. And I can tell these are no ordinary birds. They’re gigantic, about half my size. Their beaks are open and they’re coming straight for us.
“Sara, they’re going to crash into us.”
“No they won’t, Melody. Trust me.”
Trust my guide who thinks such awful things about me? And who told Kevin about my bruises?
Never!
I take one more look at the swans. They’re so close their eyes bore into mine. And I can tell they have absolutely no intention of getting out of my way.
I dive.
11
Choices
When I look up, Sara is in the lead with the two largest swans, while the rest form a V shape behind.
She was right. They did turn around.
“We sure scared the little one didn’t we, Hank?” a croaky voice screeches through my earphones.
I’m so not surprised they talk.
“Yeah, it’s the best feeling in the world,” a deep, rumble of a voice answers.
“You guys, shame on you,” Sara says. “My Guided is a sweet, strong girl.”
“Just a bit of a scaredy-cat,” the first swan says.
How dare that bird mock me? I race ahead, overtaking the entire flock plus Sara, and make a wide turn. They halt in midair.
“Who called me a scaredy-cat?” I shout.
A swan with a grey spot on its beak gives a quick nod. “I did.”
I fly close to it and do the zombie. Its beak springs open.
“What an ugly child,” the swan with the rumbling voice says.
I turn the zombie on him. Too late, I realize Sara will see it, too. The rest of the swans do for sure. They scatter like flies. I pull a feather from my hair, grinning.
And cringe at Sara’s disgusted expression. “They deserved it,” I tell her.
“They were just having fun.”
“But I wasn’t, and I’m tired of people laughing at me.”
Sara sighs. “All right. Look, don’t feel bad. Very few Guided can call a swan’s bluff. I wasn’t able to at first either.”
“Well, my wings just—just flew me away.” The mocking voices of those stupid birds still ring in my ears.
“Was it your wings or you who made the choice?”
“My wings, of course,” I say, too embarrassed to admit the truth. The stench of some rotting flower chokes me and I break into a coughing fit. I don’t believe my wings are giving off that awful smell.
“Swans love to tease,” Sara says, after a while. “Actually, it’s what they live for. We call them flying comedians.”
“So, why didn’t you warn me? I wouldn’t have . . . have
. . .”
“I told you to trust, Melody. Maybe next time you’ll believe me, hmm?”
Searing heat rises to my face. Mom told me never to trust anyone because people only ended up disappointing you. I’d always believed Dad would be strong and protect me. And look what happened to him.
Then I see something that pushes all thoughts of swans and Dad out of my mind. Colors of yellow, white, and violet swirl against the sky not far from us.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Sara pulls up short. “An Exit Point.” She sounds surprised.
“Snakes!” I dip my shoulder and my wings veer me to the left.
“No. This isn’t the same one you saw yesterday.”
“Oh.” I return to Sara’s side, feeling foolish for overreacting. “Where does it go?”
“To the Relive Your Past dream. I’ve never run into it before.”
My heart s
kips a few beats. “You mean I can change my past and when I return home, things will be different?”
“No. But you’d see what would have happened if you’d made another choice. Many Guided come to Chimeroan for that one purpose.”
“Can we go there?”
“This is your treasure hunt, Melody. You can do whatever you want.”
“Really?” I can find out how my life would have been if the accident hadn’t happened. I’d see my parents happy, dancing like they were meant to. And Mom wouldn’t eat so much junk food. She’d be slim and beautiful like the pictures in the album. And Dad and I would play Frisbee, go swimming together and do all the things I’ve longed for.
“How long would it take to reach the forest?” I ask, as we hover in place.
“That depends on how fast we fly and how many breaks we take.”
“Sara, you never answer my questions.”
“Or on how many detours we make.”
I take a deep breath. This is my Treasure Hunt. I can do whatever I want. “What time is it?”
Sara peeks at the sun. “About eleven.”
“That’s early.” I can stay a short while here and relive my past. Then leave. If I fly without stopping, I’ll reach the forest in time for sure.
As I move toward the Exit Point, my wings become sluggish. They smell of daisies.
Images bombard my mind. I’m going to one of my parents’ performances with my Aunt Vanessa, Dad’s sister. Lots of traffic. Getting there late. Having to wait until intermission before they allowed us in. Mom giving me one of the bouquets of flowers presented to her at the end of the show: daisies.
I stare at the spinning colors of the Exit Point.
“Late,” I mutter. “I’ll be late.” Even worse, I get this sinking sensation in my stomach that if I go through, I won’t solve the clue. My wings will drop off and I’ll return home to Dad in a wheelchair, and Mom will get fatter and fatter.
“We don’t have time to visit this Exit Point, Sara,” I say as calmly as possible. “Not if I want to solve my clue in time.”
“That’s right.”
I swing around to face her. “But you would have let me go anyway?” I shout.
“This is your treasure hunt, Melody, and your decision. I’m here—”
“To guide me, yes, I know. Except, I don’t feel like you’re guiding me. If I’d gone through the Exit Point and not solved my clue, it would’ve been your fault if I lost my wings.”
“Is that so?” Sara says. “And if I’d told you not to, would you have listened to me?”
“I . . . yes . . . I mean . . .” Would I have listened? I don’t always do what my parents tell me. Or my teachers. Or even Sara, when she said I wasn’t supposed to choose my wings. “Maybe not.”
“I know this was a hard choice to make, but it’s the right one. I’m proud of you.”
Well, I’m not. I’m mad. At Sara. At myself. But most especially at how close I almost came to finding out how my life would have turned out if the accident had never taken place.
12
Hoarders and a Pot of Gold
Riding an air current feels sort of like surfing a wave on my stomach, nothing like how I would have imagined. As Sara and I speed along, all our wings have to do is give a little flap every once in a while.
We soon reach a desert of rocks that have the coolest forms: dinosaurs, elephants, turtles, castles, cars, starfish. Some are so tall they resemble miniature mountains. It’s like gazing at the shapes of clouds back home, except I’m looking down at rocks.
“This is one of the most desolate areas on Chimeroan,” Sara says. “I flew over it when I was a Guided.”
“Really?” I’m surprised she’s volunteering information. “Did you have to do a treasure hunt, too?”
“Of course. Apparently nothing lives here.”
“Not even rock creatures?” I ask, pretending not to notice how she changed the subject.
Sara laughs. “Well, maybe. But it scarcely ever rains and there are no plants, so I don’t know what they’d do for water. Look. Straight ahead of us.”
Thick lines of orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet are heading our way.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A rainbow,” Sara says.
I shouldn’t be surprised it’s moving; this is Chimeroan after all. It’s also ten times wider than any rainbow I’ve ever seen and so long it’s impossible to know how far back it extends.
“We’re in for a treat.” Sara laughs out loud. “It’s rare to see a leprechaun’s rainbow. If you look closely you’ll notice there’s no red.”
The rainbow angles down and zips toward a group of rocks some distance away.
“Is the leprechaun inside?” I ask.
“I’m pretty sure he is. In his car.”
“Car?” I definitely heard that wrong.
“Yes. The rainbow is a tunnel. Magical, of course. So is the car.”
“That is so cool.” I love the idea of a rainbow tunnel. “Is there a pot of gold at the end?”
“More than likely. But it’s not just gold. There are also jewels, rubies, precious stones, just name it. You’re good luck, Melody.”
She sounds surprised, and I can guess why. I’m supposed to be running into snakes and awful adventures, not leprechauns. Still, no one has ever called me good luck before.
“Would you like to meet the leprechaun?” Sara asks.
“Yes! Of course.” I arch my back, urging my wings to fly faster. In just a few minutes I’ll actually touch a rainbow. And shake hands with a leprechaun. “So, does this mean my luck has changed and I won’t have to go through the land of the snakes?” I slap my hand over my mouth.
“Wait, how do you know—Were you the one eavesdropping last night?”
“I . . . um . . . uh . . . I . . .” My tongue gets all twisted. I don’t dare look at Sara, so I keep my eyes fixed on the rocky desert below . . . and spot five creatures scrambling on all fours between the rocks. They look like skinny apes with dark fur. “What kind of animals are they?”
Sara pulls up and hovers in the air. “Those aren’t animals. They’re hoarders; just kids, it looks like. Oh, this is bad.”
“Why?”
The hoarders disappear behind the rock where the rainbow ends and come out pulling a huge red bucket filled with what I can only imagine is the leprechaun’s treasure.
“Oh, no,” Sara says. “They’ve got the pot of gold.”
At that precise moment, a leprechaun with pointy ears, a big nose and a bright green hat jumps out of the rainbow. He sees the hoarders and screams. This sends the hoarders into a wild frenzy and they double over, wrapping long arms over their heads. Sara and I waste no time covering our ears, too.
His scream makes my back prickle in the worst possible way. Luckily my wings don’t seem to be affected.
I expect the leprechaun to grab his treasure and escape. But one of the hoarders spits at him. The leprechaun topples over in mid-scream, cradling his left elbow.
“That’s bad,” Sara says. “Hoarders’ spittle is poisonous. In minutes the leprechaun will be paralyzed from the neck down and they’ll force him to tell them whatever they want. And he’s a resident of Chimeroan, which makes it even worse.”
“Why?”
“Only residents know the location of the Dream Stone. Hoarders will do anything to find out where it is.”
I shiver at the mention of the Dream Stone. Vivian said it was the heart of Chimeroan. Because of the Dream Stone, I was able to get here.
The poor leprechaun moans as a hoarder kicks him in the legs. The others take turns doing the same until his cries fade away.
“Those bullies.” I’m furious. “Why are they so mean?”
“Lower your voice,” Sara whispers. “They’re hoarders, that’s why they’re mean. A leprechaun’s pot of gold is a rare find. Hoarders take whatever they can because they care only for themselves. Leprechauns always reach the end of their r
ainbow first. It’s strange that this one didn’t. Besides, hoarders never come out here. There’s nothing in a rock desert to interest them.”
I remember what Kevin said and want to curl up in a ball. “So, this is my fault because I’m afraid of snakes?” I wonder what other bad things will happen because of that.
“It’s not that simple, Melody. And so you know, eavesdroppers never hear the truth.”
The truth is I don’t know what to do. If we help the leprechaun, and I have no idea how to do that, then we might reach the forest late. But if the hoarders find out where the Dream Stone is, that would be a catastrophe.
The leprechaun isn’t moving, and the hoarders begin a sort of victory dance.
“Call for help, Sara.”
“By the time anyone gets here, it will be too late.”
“You mean the leprechaun will die?” I smell blood.
Paramedics pull a man out of the other car.
Black hole. Memory gone.
“Losing his gold and jewels will be worse than dying,” Sara says.
I gasp. “He’ll be able to get more, won’t he?”
“No.”
“But dreams come true on Chimeroan. If this is his dream, then he can have it.”
“Dreams come with rules,” Sara says. “With your treasure hunt, you must solve your clues by sunset. The rule for leprechauns gives them only one pot of gold. That’s why they go to great pains to hide it where they’re sure no one can find it.”
“We’ve got to help him.”
Paramedics pull a man out of the other car.
Black hole! Black hole!
My mind is blank as I dive for the rocks. Sara follows right behind me. If Mom were here, she’d say this was the stupidest idea ever. But Mom’s not here. Only me and Sara and our wings.
We land on top of a rock, then quickly scramble down. Once our flying paraphernalia are safely in our knapsacks, we sprint toward the hoarders, bent over so they don’t see us. The closer we get, the louder their voices become.
Their smell is worse. Sara gags. I almost throw up. I don’t think the hoarders have bathed in centuries. They reek of dirt and deodorant mixed with musty sweat and body odor. Even the scent of dandelions from my wings can’t hide the horrible stench.
Up in the Air Page 6
