Read Online Beyond the Laughing Sky by Michelle Cuevas - Free Book Online Page B

always known—having in their own way willed Nashville into the world—that he could not stay. Perhaps they knew better than other folks that some things are too extraordinary to stay in our world for very long, and so the time they are here should be taken as a gift, as a pause for a moment in front of us, as a hummingbird at the bell of a flower.
    â€œDo you have your good scarf?” asked his father, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he hugged his son and touched his wings. “And your long underwear?” he continued, standing back and looking at his son. “Perhaps you should bring an extra pair of socks. Weather can be . . . very unpredictable.”
    â€œOh, I almost forgot,” cried his mother. “We baked you a cake.”
    There, in her arms, was the finished cake, expertly decorated by his family. It was Nashville all right—same smile. But there was something extra as well. There, frosted and attached to each side of the cake, were wings—two beautiful, beautiful wings.
    â€œThank you,” he said to his family. “It’s the perfect cake.”

    â€œIt was Junebug’s idea,” they explained.
    Nashville’s father held his mother as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, and watched Junebug walk her big brother to the window.
    The wind blew and the white buds danced outside. Junebug looked at Nashville, and then at the window. She imagined him flying away, farther and farther, his shadow lengthening over the endless ground, until he was just a speck of white and gold wings in the distant sky.
    â€œWill you write me?” she asked.
    â€œI’ll send you postcards,” said Nashville. “I’ll send them on the wind.”
    And then, as strangely as he’d come into their world, Nashville spread his wings and flew away from his mother, father, and sister; he flew away from the house in the pecan tree into the cinnamon air, so sweet.

A nd so, with the first golden glow of sunlight rising over the hills, Nashville glided to a distant treetop. There, in the pine bough, he was out of sight of his family, and able to gather his thoughts.
    â€œOn the one hand,” Nashville said to himself, “I’ll start really flying. Not just floating, but also flapping. On the other hand . . .”
    If a scientist could have taken a microscopic cross-section of Nashville’s heart at that moment, this is what they would have seen: a map of the sky. A map that had been folded and refolded too many times, like an overdreamed dream, the crease lines becoming soft and fuzzy. The arrow on the map’s compass only pointed one way, and that way was the sky.
    â€œBe brave,” Nashville said to himself. “Be brave.”
    And then, to his surprise and delight, he glided on an updraft high, high into the sky.
    â€œI’m doing it,” he said, quite shocked. “I’m really flying.”
    He continued to glide, over the hill and pecan tree, circling like a bird, like a moon orbiting the only home he’d ever known.
    A lullaby of clouds encircled Nashville and floated him like a ball across the syllables of a sing-along song in the sky. He tried to think how he’d describe it all to Junebug—piercing the wind and touching nothing but air was like swimming, but not quite. Like freefalling on a roller coaster. But not quite.
    Nashville finally began to flap the wings, and that worked as well. He changed direction, and flew over the entire town.
    Nashville circled the school, but the school yard was quiet and empty, and he knew they would all be having reading lessons that time of day. He saw all the balls, Frisbees, and toys on the roof. He dipped low, kicking the balls and throwing toys down to the ground, wondering what all his classmates would think if they could see him now. He pictured Miss Starling’s smile, and his whole class whooping and clapping for him. He pictured Finnes Fowl in his