Air Bound

Chapter 3

I slide through the kitchen on skates of cotton, I come to a halt with my hands on the cold granite. Extending on the tips of my toes, I snatch the blue speckled box from the counter. I slip my matching bag over my shoulder and race out the door.

I pause as the door closes behind me, I feel a strange emptiness that I have forgotten something. I turn back and sprint through the hall to my room. Pushing open the door, I unlock the cage and George flies to my shoulder. Within seconds, I'm on the bus.

                                                                                           ~ ~ ~

I bounce from person to person, pushing past a sea of children. Shoulders knock against mine in a full-sized game of marbles, but I continue to squirm past others.

I bump into something, looking up, I am greeted by a large woman; her arms crossed over her massive chest, her eyes glaring at me from above.

"Your ticket," she barks, tapping her foot on the concrete. I scramble to explain that my teacher has it, flashing her my wristband. Suddenly, a head of feathers peaks out from my clenched hand and I scurry to push George back in, but he's too large now.

"Ehhem," she coughs, uncrossing her arms to point at my hand, "what is that?"

"Just, um, my toy" I stutter, my face runs hot as I try to get a better grip on george

"Open your hand." She demands, her hands now perched upon her hips. I tightly squeeze my friend before opening my hand. Even my heart is holding its breath as the guard leans down.

In the palm of my hand lies the limp figure of a bird, poking it to confirm it's stuffed containment, the guard steps aside, letting me pass.

I release a huge breath, a small smile reaching my cheeks as I close my eyes, taking in the smells of bleach and formaldehyde. I peak down at George, fully alive and vibrant,

"Thanks buddy," I whisper. Rounding the corner, I put him back on my shoulder.

The narrow hallway opens up into a huge dome of glass, the walls painted with stars, littered with display cases and generously sprinkled with onlookers. In the center of the room sits an enormous space shuttle, surpassing the top of the dome, its tip valiantly soaring through an opening in the ceiling. 

I run to the display, my sneakers squeaking on the worn linoleum floor. Staring through the glass, my eyes go wide trying to see the top. A cloud of fog encircles where my nose is pressed against the glass, my body fully stretched to see the mass of the craft, not even as tall as a half the skirt. The white monster remains pristine, despite the signs of aging, and the build, fascinating as ever.

Something pinches my ear and I tense, looking back I just see George.

"Alright," I sigh, turning back towards the entrance. We settle down on our usual bench, its metal frame fresh with new paint, but its wooden base worn under the pressure of millions of curious souls. I place my lunch pail on my lap; running my pale fingers over the deep blue box, speckled with a splash of white, tracing the raised rings of Saturn. I unzip my dreams to a container of fruit and a sandwich perfectly cut into triangles. I open the container for George, before indulging in my mom's specialty and my favorite: peanut butter and jelly.