We were the exact same height now. Exactly the same. Our eyes were level. Straight on. My stomach quaked a little, I admit. But I’d practiced my words. I wasn’t going to let another summer go by without speaking my mind.
“When I see your face sometimes, I see the red taillights of your car. I see myself scared. Terrified. Alone. You laughing and leaving me behind. I don’t like what I see. I don’t want to see that anymore. What you did was full-out wrong.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He broke eye contact with me then, but I held firm, looking straight at the top of his head.
“I didn’t realize that.”
“Well, now you do.”
“So, what is this?”
“I guess I’d just like an apology, Dad.”
He shuffled his feet and looked at the ground.
His voice turned low. “I didn’t realize all that, Wayne. I’m sorry. I’m no parenting expert.”
True story.
“Don’t do that to Carrot, either. When I come over, he’d better be a happy kid. And I’m thinking of going out for track and field next year, but I’ll let you know what I decide.”
The Flee smiled a little. “We’d like it if you came over.”
I put my hand out for him to shake. “I’m going to come over.”
“I’m sorry, Wayne. Real sorry.” My dad shook my hand.
“And I would like you to stop saying you’re just messing with me. For the record, I do not like to be messed with.”
“Well, any more requests, then?”
“You brought your running shoes, didn’t you?”
“Have you been practicing? Are you going to outrun me?”
“Maybe.”
Definitely.
“What’s gotten into you? You’ve changed!”
Truer story.
“Well, I’m proud of you, you know. Proud of the young man you’re becoming.”
I was about to spit out a fact about rubber-soled shoes. I was about to. I’m glad I didn’t.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, and I took off down Cedar Drive.
The sky was clear blue, and the July sun wasn’t too hot. I fell into a solid pace, my feet beating out a heartbeat against the cracks along the sidewalk. Our pace was matched as we turned up onto the smooth streets of the Estates, running side by side in unison. I stepped up my pace as the street rose and fell. The tall cottonwood trees of the park swayed in the distance over the rocket ship. After another half mile, I tuned out his complaining. All I heard was the wind rushing past my body, through my hair, through my fully restored left eyebrow. I turned and saw him huffing and puffing it up the street.
He shouted, “How long we going to run, Wayne?”
I jogged backward and shouted, “Until I get tired. And I’m not tired yet.”
I turned around and kept running, leaving him in my wake.
Full of bottomless energy.
Thunderous hope.
After another half mile, he turned back.
“Okay, I’m turning back,” he shouted. “I’m not deserting you, but my knee is killing me.”
I gave him a thumbs-up and kept going. Moving forward. I couldn’t help that a smile took over my face. I checked the wide blue sky for planes and, sure enough, there were two. Crisscrossing a section of sky, leaving behind white foam trails.
And I got a burst of energy and felt like my muscles were full of jet fuel.
So I launched into a sprint.
Sprinting.
Running.
Smiling.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Running without fear.
Running out in the open.
Running because I wanted to.
Do you know what that kind of run felt like?
I’ll tell you.
It felt an awful lot like flying.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing this book was a lot of fun. It was made more enjoyable by many wonderful people.
I’m continuously grateful to my terrific agent, Julia Kenny, whose early enthusiasm for Wayne’s story buoyed me. Thank you so much to my editor, Bethany Strout, for your wise guidance, sharp editorial eye, and kind encouragement. I feel blessed to work with you. Heaps of gratitude and thanks to Lisa Yoskowitz, Victoria Stapleton, Jenny Choy, Barbara Bakowski, Ashley Mason, and Maggie Edkins. The entire team at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers is top-notch. True story.
Thanks to Bernie Alves, Warren Ayers, Abby (the best dog ever) Chapman, CJ and Momo Chapman, Matt Chapman, Oliva Chapman, Dave Diotalevi, Gloria Harris, Polly Holoyke, Tim (weedwacker) Mason, Julie Neinast, Mary Paj, Patrick “Mr. Q” Quinlan, Les Rosenblatt, Susan Thornton, Sean Vance, and especially Sandra and Eldon Youngblood. Each of you inspired me in important and unique ways that are woven deeply into this book. Special thanks to American Airlines First Officer and Air Force Lt. Colonel Gavin Tade for your insights and encouragement and, most important, your passion for flight and service to our country.
To all of my family, I love you and thank you for supporting me. For my Heavenly Father, for everything. And finally, a special thanks to my readers. Where once I had a file full of rejection letters, I now have a file full of letters from readers. Do you know how cool that is? Pretty cool.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Karen Harrington
Cover art and design by Maggie Edkins
Cover © 2016 Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
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The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks o
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
First ebook edition: May 2016
ISBN 978-0-316-29800-1
E3-20160406-JV-PC
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