Growing Wings by Laurel Winter

Author:Laurel Winter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Fame is a bee.

It has a song—

It has a sting—

Ah, too, it has a wing.

—Emily Dickinson

Chapter Eleven

Linnet jumped up, still holding the book. “I can’t read anymore right now.”

“Hey . . .” Jake began, but she was running, hoping Ellen wasn’t outside, unreachable. She couldn’t even call out the door, because then the journalists would know there was someone else in the house and might wonder why only Ellen and Jake went outside. Charlie was at the table, with his arms powdered completely white, kneading a massive lump of dough. “Is Ellen here?” Linnet asked.

He shook his head. “Haven’t seen her for a little while. She might be in her room.”

She wasn’t. Jan was in hers, reading a mystery novel. She just shook her head when Linnet asked about Ellen, apparently unwilling to come completely out of the world of her book.

Linnet went back through the kitchen and upstairs, not really thinking Ellen would be there. But she was, standing outside Andy’s door with an indecisive look on her face, as if she didn’t know whether she should knock.

Linnet waved the book. “Ellen,” she said. “I know how to fly. I know how to fly. See.” She shoved the book into Ellen’s hands and stabbed the picture with her finger. “See.”

Ellen just stood there for a long moment. “Oh,” she said. “You are such a clever little bird.” She raised her head and looked right at Linnet. “Am I ever glad that Jan was tired of reading Winnie-the-Pooh.”

Andy’s door opened. “Did you call me?” she demanded, obviously trying to sound cross and not at all curious.

Ellen just raised an eyebrow, but Linnet danced around. “We can fly! We can fly! Like Winnie-the-Pooh with a balloon.”

As soon as she understood, Andy was dancing around, too, hopping awkwardly on one foot, using her wings for balance.

Ellen retreated. “I’m getting out of here before you winged wonders knock me over. I’ll have to go to town for some helium anyway.”

The girls danced around a bit longer, their wings hitting the walls and each other. Then Andy banged her foot on the door frame. “Ouch,” she said, stopping to bend over and rub her sore ankle.

“I’m sorry,” said Linnet.

“You didn’t do it—yes, you did, getting me all excited like that. Apology accepted.”

They went slowly downstairs. Ellen had obviously just told Charlie, because he was a flour-covered statue, the lump of dough forgotten in front of him. “Maybe even I could fly,” he whispered. His twisted wings flared out; usually he kept them folded against his back.

Linnet felt a little sick. Who had done that to him? His wings were covered with fine white feathers, but they were awful parodies of his straight athletic form.

Andy shifted beside her. “Yeah, probably,” she said. “We better go tell Jan, too.”

Jake was still on the couch, looking mad. “You left,” he said. “Why did Grammy take the book?”

“We’re going to fly—to try to fly like Pooh. With a balloon. You gave me the idea.”

He brightened up. “Really? With a balloon?” His expression turned thoughtful.

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