Flyaway (30 page)

I blink at her. ‘Idiots?'

‘Yeah.' She helps unbuckle the straps across my chest. ‘I think what you've built is brilliant. Dad does too. And, by the sounds of it . . .' she stops to poke me in the ribs, ‘. . . so does Harry.'

I feel my cheeks blushing and I know Mum sees.

‘So,' she says. ‘If we all love what you've created, what have you got to worry about?'

CHAPTER 69

M
rs Diver taps her pen, getting everyone's attention. It's my turn to do my presentation. She watches my face carefully as I stand.

‘You OK?' she mouths.

I nod. I take my wing model to the front of the class. Already I can hear people whispering and someone, probably Jordan, muffling a laugh. Mrs Diver shushes everyone and tells me to begin. I swallow and try not to look at the bunch of boys in the back row who are still flapping their arms about and pretending to be birds. I look at Mrs Diver's picture of Leonardo and pretend I'm just talking to him.

‘Leonardo da Vinci studied bird wings when he researched his flying machines,' I say. ‘He drew sketches of how he could connect wings to a man's body. So, when I found a stuffed swan in my granddad's barn, I thought that my flying model
would be a bit like this . . . a kind of flying machine that used real bird wings.'

I return my gaze to the class. The boys at the back are still grinning madly, just waiting to make bird noises again. Some of the kids at the front are doodling on their workbooks, not bothered about my presentation; others are passing notes. I step into the harness. I get Mrs Diver to help tighten the leather straps across my chest and fasten the velcro loops. There's a few hushed murmurs. The kids at the front have noticed. But others still don't have a clue that I've just attached a pair of wings to my back. So I bend my elbows and bring my fists towards my chest, then I force them back out again. The wires are stiff, but I manage it. I open my wings, and start beating them. The air they create sends a stack of papers floating towards the floor. They make text book pages flap and turn. I move my fingers so that the feathers angle and separate. I roll my shoulders and the wings flutter behind me.

The class goes quiet. Heads turn towards me.

‘I observed how a whooper swan used her wings,' I say. ‘I made sketches.'

Mrs Diver holds up the pencil drawings I did of the swan on the lake. She nods her head in approval. I keep beating the wings slowly.

‘I thought that if I learnt how a swan flew, I could work out which parts of the stuffed wings I'd need to move to copy.'

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

O
n 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

T
he 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 turns 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.