Читать книгу The Night Flyer's Handbook 2-Book Bundle - Philippa Dowding - Страница 12

I make it through the morning at school without any body parts floating away from me.

It is actually such a dull morning that I catch myself wishing for that floating feeling.

It would be a welcome distraction from the boring lesson about local taxes in our Civics class. I’ve been taking Civics for almost seven months, and I still can’t quite figure out what it’s about. Sometimes we talk about helping old people and volunteering for things, and sometimes we talk about garbage collection. Those things I can pretty much understand as something that we all need to get behind, at least some of the time. But then our teacher goes on about salt or taxes, and I swear my body just goes limp. I simply cannot get my mind around what on earth she is talking about.

I wonder if there is some way I can pretend I need to throw up again, like yesterday? Or maybe get some mystery “cramping,” which might get me a free hall pass to the nurse’s office. It wouldn’t work with this teacher, though, she’s too smart for that — besides, she’s a girl. That old “cramps” trick only works with guy teachers. Mr. Marcus always goes pale, for instance.

I sigh and wiggle in my seat. This simply has to stop. I am going to freak out if I have to listen to one more word about municipal taxes. What are they for, anyway? Who gets to decide how much tax we pay? I have a paper route on Saturdays, do I have to pay taxes? My head is starting to ache. I cheer up for a moment — maybe I am going to throw up.

Nope. False alarm. Okay, then.

I try to will my body to float. I try lifting my foot off the floor, but it just falls like a dead weight back to the tile beneath my desk. I lift the other one. Nothing. My running shoe makes a loud slapping sound as it hits down. “Sorry,” I mumble as my teacher shoots me a warning look, which sadly doesn’t stop her from babbling on about garbage taxes.

I slowly float my arm out to my side, but it’s just as heavy as my leg. I try my other arm. Nothing. I’ve never felt so leaden and earthbound in my life.

At this point, I’d be happy with a floating finger. I try raising my index finger off the table. It almost hovers for a second, but no, I realize I’m holding it there.

Clearly I’m not going to float anywhere during Civics class, just when I really want to.

Noted. The ability to float seems to have nothing to do with the desire to float. In fact, it seems the more I want to float, the less likely it is that I will.

At this moment, in this class, I have as much chance of floating as a lead balloon.