Up in the Air

by Ann Marie Meyers

  “Wings.” My voice is a mere whisper. I couldn’t have spoken louder if I tried.

  They look so . . . real. Like they belong on a bird. Like they can ride the winds and carry Sara all the way to the clouds. They’re silver with fluffy feathers, and they cover her entire back as far as her knees.

  The wings I sometimes dream of are never this beautiful. I want a pair just like them. I reach out to stroke the wings but Sara steps away.

  “You have to ask permission first, Melody.” Her eyes widen at the sight of the scrapes on my arm and the two-week-old gash on my left leg.

  “May I, please?” I say. “They’re gorgeous.”

  She nods.

  The feathers are as soft and warm as Dad’s black wool sweater. As I touch them, they spread out, forcing me to jump back.

  “How did you do that?” I ask. The wings furl inward and settle against Sara’s back. “Where did you get them? Can I have a pair, too?”

  “Welcome to Chimeroan,” Sara says without answering my question.

  “Shi—me—ron? So, I’m not in a coma?”

  “No.”

  “Or dead?”

  Sara laughs. “You are very much alive, don’t worry.”

  “And I’m not dreaming. I figured that one out.”

  “Correct. Though Chimeroan is a place where dreams—your deepest desires—come true.”

  Did I hear that right? “I’ll be able to fly? With wings? And soar like a bird?” It will be nothing like flying back home.

  “All that will be explained,” Sara says. “If you agree to stay.”

  That doesn’t make sense. It should be the other way around. “Explain now.”

  The feathers on Sara’s wings rustle as she opens her mouth to speak. Then they both fall silent.

  I sigh. “Please.”

  Her jaw gets that rock-hard firmness Mom’s gets when there’s no changing her mind.

  I have two choices then: to stay or to leave. It should be easy. If I stay, I’ll fly.

  Still, I take a step back and scan the area, stalling for time. Most costumed teenagers are talking to either a boy or girl. Some kids look nervous. Many are excited. This could all be a massive joke. Or a trick.

  Except there are wings on Sara’s back. I saw fairies. Five dragons are perched on rocks a few yards from where I am.

  “I have to let my parents know I’m okay,” I hear myself say.

  “Of course,” Sara says. “But if you go, you may not be able to return.”

  My hands go cold, despite the heat. Sara purses her lips. Her eyes shift away from me and I get this unpleasant, swirly sensation in my stomach.

  “You can leave now if you want,” she says. “Look behind you.”

  The fog is back, a thick mass hiding the horizon. Several children race toward it, including the spiky-haired boy who flees as if the dragons are after him.

  My parents will freak out when they don’t see me. They’ll think I’ve been kidnapped. I run my fingers through my damp, limp hair, and picture Dad in his wheelchair, lifting weights ten times a day and dragging his paralyzed legs when he walks with crutches. Then there’s Mom who always has some kind of food in her mouth. And school, where everyone thinks I’m stuck-up because I won’t play with them.

  Here, on Chimeroan, dreams come true. I have a chance to get wings. And fly like I’ve always wanted, playing in the clouds with the wind on my face.

  Free.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry, Mom,” I whisper, then face Sara. “I’ll stay.”

  “Good.” Her face lights up. “I would have been disappointed, otherwise. You’re my first Guided.”

  The swirly sensation is back. Does that mean she’ll mess up? Make mistakes. I’m like . . . her guinea pig?

  Sara grabs my hand. “We go this way.”

  As I turn to follow her, the fog vanishes into thin air. I clutch my stomach, wondering if I made the right choice after all.

  3

  Exit Points

  “Are all the teenagers guides?” I ask Sara as we zigzag through the crowd in the direction of the woods.

  “Yes.”

  “So why are they wearing costumes?”

  “Are you sure they’re costumes?” she says.

  “What?” Of course they’re not. This is a place where dreams come true. “So, that group of Supermen over there can actually send laser beams out of their eyes?”

  Sara nods.

  I gasp. “They’re real, live Supermen?”

  “GRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOAR.”

  I turn around in time to see the dragons leap into the air, a child on the back of each of them.

  “Don’t tell me the dragons are guides, too,” I say.

  “You got it.” Sara says. “That’s very perceptive of you, Melody.”

  “But . . . I was joking. The kids riding them are their Guided? And they’ll become dragons? Like how people turn into werewolves?”

  “If that is their dream,” Sara says.

  Thoughts boomerang about in my brain and make me dizzy. I’m in a place where dreams—all dreams—come true. I’ll get wings. And fly. The children over there will become Star Wars characters like their guides. The witches are real, the Supermen, even those strange looking teenagers with blue and green skin are some kind of real alien, something-or-other. It’s hard to imagine the eight boys and girls next to the centaurs will soon have forelegs instead of arms. Their bodies will change, and—

  An awful image forms in my mind. “What about my wings? They won’t grow out of my back, will they?”

  Sara laughs. “Of course not, silly.”

  “They strap on? Oh, good.” I’m so glad to dismiss the picture of wings sprouting out of my skin.

  Sara points to a nearby group. “There are the other flier guides and Guided. Come.”

  I zone in on the guides’ wings, which are all different colors and shapes. If only they’d unfurl and lift the guides into the air.

  A light flashes in my eyes. Shapes blur into colors, except for two trees in the woods; they stand out from the rest, the bark a deeper brown. The way the greenish yellow leaves sway in the wind is different, too. No, not sway exactly—more like glide, as if they’re about to fall off.

  I blink. And everything becomes clear.

  Snakes, bundles of them, dangle on the branches of the trees. They glide under and over each other: big, thick ones, skinny ones, long, and short ones. My entire body squirms as if the snakes are actually on me.

  “What’s the matter?” Sara asks.

  I point with a shaky hand.

  “An Exit Point.” Sara’s voice trembles. “I’ve never noticed that one here before.”

  “A wh— wh—what?”

  “It’s a doorway to another dream in Chimeroan, in this case the Snake Dream. If you climb those trees, you can go there.”

  The area between the two trees gets sharper. I can see a place there, like I’m watching a widescreen TV. The sky is overcast, yet the sun’s rays slash through the thick clouds and shine on millions of glistening, slimy bodies wriggling over the ground.

  “I hate snakes,” I hear myself say.

  “Why?”

  “One crawled over me once.”

  We were in Dad’s friend’s house in Long Island. This guy kept snakes as pets. One got loose and went up my leg. It was wiggly and cold. I tried to shake it off, but, instead, I stumbled and fell. Dad threw himself off his wheelchair, dragged himself over to me, grabbed the snake, and flung it away.

  “That explains why you noticed the Exit Point.” Sara sounds far away.

  I can still feel the snake slithering over my skin. I slap at my leg, but that doesn’t help. So, I do the one thing that gets rid of a bad memory fast. I close my eyes and picture a black hole getting bigger and bigger.

  “Go away,” I whisper. In a flash, the memory gets sucked into the hole, which closes with a loud burp.

  “What did you say?” Sara asks.

  “Noth—nothing.
” I open my eyes and take a deep breath. Two. Three. “How come I saw the Exit Point?”

  “Well—” The feathers on her wings rustle and she flushes a light pink. “I’m not sure.”

  She’s lying. Her eyes are examining my chin like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Why would she lie? She’s supposed to guide me; she’s supposed to tell me what I want to know.

  A kid in a wheelchair bumps against my leg, and I think of Dad. “Can adults come to Chimeroan?”

  “Of course.” Sara’s sigh is thick with relief, as if she’s glad for the subject change.

  “So, where are the adults?”

  “They’ll arrive later.”

  “How about my father? Can he come here, too?”

  “Definitely. Once he has a dream he wants with his whole heart.”

  I feel as if someone stabbed me in the chest. Dad’s dream died with the accident. I close my eyes so the tears don’t come. Oh, Dad, I hope you understand. I have to do this. I have to stay here and fly. I’ll find a way for you to get here, too. So you can walk and dance again. I try to picture him smiling as he sings one of his new songs. But all I see is how he looked the last time I saw him. Slouched in his chair. Heartbroken.

  “Black hole,” I whisper.

  A long tentacle extends from the darkness in my mind, very gently envelops Dad’s waist, and pulls him away.

  4

  The Door

  Sara introduces me to the flier guides, but their names zing in one ear and out the other, forgotten. Their lifelike wings are all I have eyes for. They’re mesmerizing.

  A bumblebee pair covered in tiny black and yellow feathers is to die for, so is the green and black set with round feathers. I’m not so sure about the dull, grey pigeon wings; they’re boring. But I can’t get over how the yellow, oblong pair quivers nonstop like a hummingbird. As for the magenta eagle wings, they look powerful enough to reach the clouds in only a few, strong strokes.

  Sara takes my arm and turns me the other way. “These are your fellow Guided. Fiona, Liz, Sean, Claudine, and—”

  “Jackson.” A tall brown-skinned boy gives me a wide grin.

  I manage a quarter smile. Then notice his hair. Dreadlocks. Which gazillions of people have in Manhattan and it has never bothered me. But Jackson’s locks look like small, plump WORMS!

  My hands fly to my neck. What’s wrong with me? I can’t go around seeing snakes or cousins of snakes all over the place. This is crazy.

  Jackson lowers his head and shoves his hair within inches of my face. “Wanna touch?”

  I jump back. “No.”

  He looks up, frowning. “Then don’t stare like that.”

  The Guided burst out laughing. At me. I clench both fists. I will not get angry. Not here. Not with a kid like Fiona who has the ugliest crew cut ever, or Claudine with her inch-thick glasses, or Liz whose face is covered in freckles, or—

  “Check those bruises.” Sean points at my arms and legs, a disgusting sneer on his lips.

  “Check those crooked teeth,” I throw right back at him.

  And before I can stop myself, I tense my forehead and go cross-eyed. Then I scrunch up my lips, suck in my cheeks and stick out my tongue.

  Sean’s cheeks go from red to pale yellow. The girls turn their backs on me.

  Bingo. The Zombie Look always works. Sean will never mess with me again.

  “I can teach you a few that are even better,” Jackson says.

  “What?” I brace myself, but his hair looks normal now.

  “That face is great, but I know some that are out of this world. Wanna see?”

  “N-no.”

  I can’t believe Jackson isn’t grossed out. I peek at the guides, who gawk at me like I’m a weirdo. They could change their minds about me getting wings; I shouldn’t have gotten mad.

  “I still say this could be some elaborate plan to, you know, kidnap us,” Fiona says in a whiny voice.

  The guides glance at each other. The one with the bumblebee wings gives a quick shake of his head, as if warning the others to say nothing. Sara smiles at me, but it’s nothing like before. This smile is forced, strained.

  They’re hiding something. But all this can’t be a trick. I’m no longer in Manhattan, that’s for sure. I saw dragons and fairies.

  “This is real.” I didn’t plan to speak, but it feels good to hear the words out loud.

  Fiona glares at me. I stop myself from zombie-ing her just in time.

  “I’m with Melody on this,” Jackson says. “And I trust Kevin.” He gives a thumbs-up to the guide with bumblebee wings.

  “You can always go back home,” Sean says with a sneer.

  Fiona turns her glare on him. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but the kids from the far end of the meadow start shouting, pushing, shoving, giggling.

  “Give them room!”

  “They’re coming through.”

  “Back up.”

  Four giant-sized tigers, each with a child on its back, rise to their feet, towering over everyone, and plod their way toward the woods. My mouth drops open. This is so way beyond anything I could have imagined. And then I get this freaky thought. Do the four kids want to hang out with the tigers or become tigers?

  “That’s our cue,” Kevin says.

  The entire crowd suddenly moves in a massive rush for the woods. Kids speak in subdued voices. Many look nervous and excited. My body pulses.

  Anything is possible here.

  Jackson falls into step next to me. “Did you get caught in a fog before you arrived in Chimeroan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me, too. In Central Park.”

  I look at him in surprise. “You live in Manhattan?”

  “The Upper West Side on 97th Street. You?”

  “Soho,” I tell him.

  “Right on.” Jackson gives me a thumbs-up. “That’s only a few stops on the number two express train. Hey, we could hang out in the park one day.”

  The blurb I’ve prepared for just such occasions flies out of my mouth. “My father is antisocial. He doesn’t like me bringing friends over and . . .” I can’t finish because I picture Dad, slouched in his wheelchair, watching me.

  “Really?” Jackson says. He doesn’t sound like he bought my story.

  The sharp smell of pine hits me when we reach the woods. It’s much cooler, too. Birds chirp. Leaves rustle in the breeze. I wonder if our wings are here, but the woods end just as the thought crosses my mind. One second we’re stomping over roots and twigs, the next we’re on a white surface that’s as bouncy as a trampoline. Even the sky is white.

  “Is it a cloud?” Claudine whispers.

  “No,” Kevin says. “This is a transit area.”

  I prefer the idea of a cloud though, with me floating on top. Free. The only thing that’s not white is a gold door way taller than my house. Guides and Guided are lined up in front of it and we join in at the rear, behind three giggling girls.

  Then, I notice what’s lounging on their shoulders.

  “Fairies!” The word flies out of my mouth.

  We all jostle for a closer look, even the guides.

  “They’re gorgeous,” Claudine says, adjusting her glasses.

  “Absolutely,” Sara says.

  The fairies’ eyes are emerald green. They have hair as black as coal, and long to the hips. They remind me of my five Barbie Mermaids back home. I reach for the one closest to me. My index finger is inches away from her cute little cheek when, to my horror, she hisses like a cat and snaps at me. Claudine squeals. I snatch my hand away.

  The three fairies furl back their lips, exposing silver, fanged teeth. Wings flare out and their eyes flash a deep, smoldering red as if a fire is inside.

  They’re no longer cute. They’re tiny, evil monsters!

  The fairies’ Guided smirk, eyes filled with pride. I’m too spooked to zombie them. Sara should have warned me not to try and touch the fairies.

  The door up front swings open
and my scalp prickles. Some Guided scream. I open my mouth to join in, but no sound comes out.

  Inside the massive door is darkness. It’s the image of the black hole I conjure up in my mind all the time. A soccer team and their Guided enter and the door closes without a sound.

  I can’t go in there.

  “If you want your wings, you have to step inside,” Sara says. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. The golden door takes you wherever you want to go on Chimeroan.”

  I gulp. “Like an Exit Point?”

  “No,” Sara says. “Exit Points lead to specific dreams. This door goes anywhere you wish.”

  Liz nibbles her lower lip. “You can never tell what’s hiding in the dark.”

  “What if all these guides are really aliens kidnapping us?” Fiona whispers.

  Jackson rolls his eyes. “Girl, you are something else.”

  Way too quickly, it’s our turn.

  “This is the fastest way to get to the flier outpost from this point since you don’t have your wings yet,” Kevin says.

  Despite everything, I smile. We don’t have our wings yet.

  The door swings open. Kevin and Jackson enter and vanish into darkness. A chill settles over me and I hug myself, trying to keep warm.

  “Hold my hand,” Sara says.

  I grab it, repeating to myself over and over: My wings are through this door. My wings are through this door. Sara and I step inside.

  My feet land on nothing but air, but we don’t fall. Still, I tighten my grip on Sara’s hand.

  Sean, Claudine and Fiona enter next. Liz is wheezing; I’m sure she’ll hyperventilate, but she shuts her eyes and lets her guide pull her in.

  The door closes. Total blackness.

  “Destination: Flier outpost on Mount Freedom,” Kevin’s voice booms out. He pronounces each word slowly, as if he’s talking to a toddler.

  I brace myself, but nothing happens. No wind, no whirling, spinning sensation of being transported anywhere. No sense of any movement at all. Someone coughs. Someone else clears his throat. It’s hard to control my breathing, which wheezes out my mouth way too fast.

  I’m about to ask Sara why we aren’t moving, when the huge door swings open in front of us. I blink at the brightness. Liz is the first to rush out. I’m right on her heels.