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learning to Fly*

By Sandra Atkins

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The intruder did not try to hide. Sam spotted its eyes, large and glowing dots in the darkness. The circles of gold stared unblinking outside the plain little house on Reid Street. Sam shivered to think of the long claws latched around the tree branch on which it perched, watching. Was it looking inside watching him, or his sister sleeping in the room next to his? He clutched the bedspread up under his neck and listened as the animal announced with a loud screech, hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
Sam noticed the space at the bottom of his window. He sprang from the bed to close the gap which let the chill night in and exposed him to the dangers outside. The air hung too still, and heavy as Grandma’s molasses. The moon floated round as a basketball, with just a tint of orange. Sam leaned into the cold glass of the windowpane. He imagined that if he stood on tiptoes, he could surely reach out and intercept it, bounce the lunar ball around the yard, before pushing it back into the thick syrupy night.
Seemed like every passing hour Sam awoke to the eerie screams of the creature, hoo-hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo-hoo! One of those times on the way to the bathroom he jiggled the doorknobs on the front and back doors to reassure himself that they were locked. He stuck his head in his sister’s room. The six- year- old opened her eyes and reached for the small throw pillow with the print of a cartoon owl on front. She hugged it and immediately returned to her dreams.
Sam returned to his bed, but not for long. Soon he awoke again to the screeches outside. He grabbed the corner of the bedsheet and tied a knot in the end. He clutched his newly transformed sheet just below the bump and held it like a weapon. A black bird had hit his window once. This monster which had stationed itself outside could surely break the glass if it decided to enter. Sam turned and flopped in his misery. Bloodshot eyes repeatedly glancing at the green neon numbers on the old alarm clock beside him on his night table. As wretched as this night was, he dreaded the coming morning.
Sam thought of how the evening had started out so good. A couple of hours earlier, he had lain on his bed and listened to his favorite team on the radio. Their mother was working the night shift this week at the local hospital. He was responsible for watching his sister. Cassie sat in the family room watching TV, some animal program probably. Their aunt, Mozie, also lived next door and helped to keep an eye on them. Then it was over. The final whistle blew, and South Carolina and he were losers. Now, he lay here regretting how the night had turned so bad and black. If only they had won! Sam had half-heartedly made a bet with a classmate at school that his team would win. Now, he would be forced to face the music, the sing-song chants of victory in the hallways. Not to mention, the ten dollars he needed to come up with. If Mama found out, there would be a higher price to pay.
The owl shrieked again, mocking him. Sam tried to cover his head with his pillow, but the space turned as suffocating as the rest of his life had become. Here lately, the air everywhere seemed difficult to take in. The nocturnal world seemed to mock him also. The lucky crickets laughed at him. The tree frogs tormented him, and that owl just would not shut up. Cassie loved owls even though he had come to hate the wretched things. She decorated her room with her drawings and any pictures she could find. Because of Cassie, and the bird which had decided to park itself in the oak tree outside, her teacher had arranged for a farmer friend to present his barn owl for show-and-tell. Now, his sister talked on and on of nothing else.
Sam’s head vibrated with the most terrible noise on earth at that moment. The buzzer on the clock blasted its timely message, ‘time to get up!’ ‘time to get up!’. Hadn’t he had just closed his eyes? He hurled the covers aside and trumpeted air through his nose in disgust as he dressed.
Sam slumped at the small table in the kitchen with his head drooped over his soggy Fruit Loops. He must have been dozing because before he knew it, he heard the screech of the school bus as it lumbered to a stop in the road out front. Shaking like a big, yellow beast, it belted out a deep breath much the same way Sam had done in response to the alarm. The double doors on its side flapped open, ready to swallow up children and transport them to the schoolhouse.
Sam opened his mouth wide and let out a holler, “C’mon, Cassie, let’s go. Let’s gooo!”
Cassie bolted from her room, one shoe on and carrying the other in her hand. Sam screamed louder.
“Oh stop! Cassie, stop! You know it is bad luck to walk with one shoe on and one off like that!” At least, that’s what Aunt Mozie always said.
Sam sprinted for the door, still urging his sister on. He opened the entrance so the bus driver would know to wait for them. Cassie slipped her loafer onto her tiny foot. She skipped after Sam to the bus, looking back at the tree where the owl chose to roost and probably lived nearby. All worn out already, it took all of Sam’s willpower to climb the chrome steps that ascended into the belly of the mammoth beast. He paused and scanned the seats until he spotted Luke. He and Cassie flopped down in the seat behind Sam’s best friend.
Sam and Luke had been friends from the first grade. They shared a lot in common. Each of them had lost a parent—Sam, his dad and Luke, his mom. And, in true blood brother fashion, they had each other’s backs. Just a few months ago, they had encountered a ghost wandering the countryside near Luke’s home. But, that’s another story.
Luke jeered when Sam flopped down beside him, “Look what the cat drug in. You look rough!”
Sam yawned and replied at the same time, “I feel rough. I ain’t slept two hours last night.”
Cassie sat in silence behind, twirling a locket of baby-fine hair that flew and swirled around her shoulders.
“Why not? You watch somethin’ scary on TV?”
“No,” Sam said with a solemn sigh. “I was just about asleep, when that crazy, no-count, good-for-nothin’ bird started up. I hate that thing. It was right outside my window. If I had a gun, I would shoot that stupid thing.”
Cassie perked up. “No you would not! And, it was right outside my window, not yours. And, it helps me to sleep.”
Sam sneered and looked at Luke. “Whatever. Oh, I need to borrow ten dollars.” .
Luke shook his head. “Sorry, man. I’m broke.”
Sam looked at Cassie. He figured that she probably had close to twenty dollars in that shoe box at home that she had drawn crayon owls all over, and he knew that she kept several ones in her bookbag. A few dollars might keep the victors satisfied until he could come up with the rest. And, if Cassie heard the taunts at school directed at him, she would surely blab to Mom about it. What was she saving all that money for anyways?
“No. You’re mean. You hate the owl,” Cassie huffed and crossed her little arms. “If you apologize… maybe.”
Sam grew angry. A really mean and really underhanded idea occurred to him suddenly. Sam smiled a wicked smile. “Cassie would be sorry, real sorry, if she didn’t!”

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