Читать книгу The Night Flyer's Handbook 2-Book Bundle - Philippa Dowding - Страница 23

I stare back at her, stunned. I simply can’t think of a thing to say that doesn’t sound like I’m insane or stuck in a Disney movie, or perhaps both. She sounds a little crazy too, actually. I run my hand over my forehead to check for a fever.

Nope, no illness that I can detect.

“We fly down, because we’re Night Flyers, Gwen,” Mrs. Forest repeats calmly. She doesn’t stop staring at me when she says it, so I can see that she’s not kidding.

I want to say something sensible, but what comes out from behind my thick, stupid tongue is: “You are, too? Flyer? I’m a what?” Clearly, on the outside I’m not sounding terribly bright.

Things are making a bit more sense on the inside, though. I’m thinking: Oh, I see. Other girls just get to have their period. I get to have my period and start flying around the neighbourhood, too. That’s me all right. That’s just so me.

I shuffle under the blanket. I really don’t want any part of this, or any more to do with this crazy night.

Mrs. Forest is head down, rummaging in her backpack, then she pulls out a dusty, very battered-

looking book. She blows on it and dust actually flows off it into the night air toward me. I cough.

She hands it to me. “You should read this.”

It’s big, this book. It will take me forever to read, and I’m not much of a reader. The cover says Your First Flight: A Night Flyer’s Handbook. There’s an illustration of a kid on it, a little younger than me, holding hands between his parents. They look like a totally normal family walking along the street together, except they aren’t walking. They’re flying, and all three look very happy about it, like in whatever universe they inhabit, people fly around over their neighbours’ heads all the time.

I lay the book on the roof beside me. I sigh. I’m suddenly so weary I could fall asleep sitting right here. I start flying around in my room, at school, outside, and now there’s a huge book I have to read about it, too. How is that fair?

“Mrs. Forest, I just want to go to bed. How are we really going to get down?”

“I told you, Gwennie, the same way we got up here. We fly. And we got to go. It’s getting light out.” Mrs. Forest is speaking very gently, almost too quietly for me to hear. Maybe she doesn’t want me to freak out, so she’s saying it like she would to a little kid. She is gathering the flask, the blanket, the handbook, and putting everything into her backpack. She’s moving really slowly, like she doesn’t want to startle me. She shoulders the backpack and I get the message: it’s time to go.

She helps me stand up. My legs are really wobbly, but the tea made me feel a little better. As we stand up, I see Mr. McGillies way down on the ground below me. He waves up at me, then turns and trundles his cart away down the street, noisy in the quiet. I raise my hand in reply, but don’t have the strength to wave.

“What’s he doing?” I ask.

“His job,” she answers.

“His j-jobbbb?” I ask. My teeth are chattering again.

“He’s looking out for you because it’s his job. He’s a Watcher.”

“A Watcher?”

“Yes, he watches. Quiet now, child. Shh.” She is busy shifting her backpack, preoccupied.

“Mrs. Forest, why am I so cold?”

“It’s part of the First Flight, Gwen. Most people don’t go by themselves the first time, because it’s a big shock to the system. The handbook tells you what you need to know. Right now we have to get you back into your bedroom before the whole town wakes up.” She’s right — the sky is getting lighter and lighter.

Mrs. Forest takes a look over the edge of the rooftop, then turns and takes me by the shoulders and looks into my face. She’s stern.

“You’re recovered enough to fly back down. Now, this is important. You don’t let go of my hand, okay? We’re just going to float really slow, gentle, back down to your window. You’re not going to think of anything, you’re not going to ask any questions, you’re going to breathe slowly and imagine being safely back in your bed. Thoughts count here, Gwen. Okay?”

I nod. I feel myself start to break into a sweat again. I hold her hand, and there’s no way for me to tell you the courage it takes to step off that roof back into the air. My knees are weak. I’m breathing fast but Mrs. Forest says, “Slow down your breathing, Gwen, tell your body to calm down.”

I tell myself to calm down, and immediately I feel better. I feel a rush of gladness that my body is listening to me for once. If this is going to work at all, my body and my mind are going to have to start to work together here.

The first step is the hardest. We sink fast, me clutching Mrs. Forest’s hand, but then she buoys me up. We float, slowly, like a maple key gently spinning from the treetops. I keep my eyes closed, and I think I’m going to throw up, but I don’t. I feel the air gently moving against my skin, and in a few moments I hear the screen on my window creak open. Mrs. Forest gently pushes me through the window and I float into my room and over to my bed like an obedient balloon.

“Goodnight, Gwen. You have to sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow. Think of lying down on your bed,” she commands quietly. I think about my soft covers, and slowly my body sinks into the bed. I pull the covers over my head. I hear her place the handbook on the floor under my bed, close the window, and shut the screen, then Mrs. Forest is gone.

My mind is a jumble of thoughts, which mostly revolve around something like: I’m a Night Flyer. I had my First Flight. Mrs. Forest can fly, too.

Just before I fall asleep I have one more thought clear as a bell: I’m never going to be able to read that big handbook from cover-to-cover.

Ever.