The boy who could fly

THE BOY WHO COULD FLY


Strange, the way it turned out to be me. Everybody in my class thought I was a bit soft, and I was always being picked on. None of them turned out to be as brave as me though: none of them could fly like I could fly.

I was eleven at the time, and in the first year of senior school. It was break-time, and some fifth-formers – who all seemed like strapping giants, even the girls – had built a kind of see-saw thing. It was a big, long plank of wood, placed over a thick tree stump. They had discovered that if one boy stood at the end of the plank and another jumped on the other end of it, one boy would be propelled into the air.

I recall watching the fifth-formers doing this for quite a while. It got quite exciting, and a little dangerous, although nobody got hurt.

The next day at break-time they were doing the same thing again. There came a moment when we worried that one boy had hurt his leg, but it turned out to be just a minor bruise. Another boy rather foolishly had his legs either side of the plank when the other lad jumped on the other end, but again – notwithstanding a few moments of intense agony – he turned out to be okay.

Towards the end of break-time, one of the fifth-formers hit on a novel idea. Why not put little first-formers onto the plank and see how far they could be catapulted?

Several of us readily agreed, and the results were spectacular. First-formers flew far higher than fifth-formers. More and more kids gathered around to watch.

‘Why don’t you step up, John?’ said Luke, a burly fifth-former.

I chickened out. He was disappointed, but there were plenty of other first-formers queuing up to be bounced.

By break-time the next day word had spread all around the school about the amazing acrobatics that had been performed. A much bigger crowd than before had gathered.

‘So who’s first?’ asked Luke.

‘John is,’ said Mark, one of my classmates.

I hated Mark. He had gone on the see-saw the day before, and knew I was scared of going on it.

‘No thanks,’ I said.

Luke said, ‘Go on, John! All the others have been.’

‘John’s a baby,’ Mark jibed.

‘If John won’t go on it,’ insisted a fifth former called Daniel, ‘he won’t be allowed to watch.’

Everybody was looking at me now.

‘Go on, John,’ pleaded Luke. ‘I’ll be really gentle.’

‘You’re sure?’ I asked.

‘Yeah,’ he reassured me.

‘Okay then.’

They all cheered.

‘Go John, John, John!’ everybody chanted.

It was nice seeing all the looks of admiration I was getting, but really I was very scared.

‘Get on the plank then,’ ordered Luke.

I looked at the plank and then looked at Luke, who was very big.

Luke ran a little distance away from the plank. He would take his customary run-up before jumping on it.

Luke galloped towards the plank, looking very frightening.

Help, I thought.

I jumped off the plank before Luke could hit it, being very careful to jump with my two feet close together. I didn’t want to receive a thud in the crotch like I’d seen happen once before.

‘Aaawww!’ they all moaned.

‘John you wuss!’ snapped Luke.

‘You said you’d be gentle,’ I protested.

‘I was,’ he barked.

‘You didn’t look it.’

‘Try it again.’

I considered the matter. I had to do it now or I’d be a wimp.

‘Okay,’ I agreed.

Luke looked really evil, like there was no way he’d be gentle this time. Then he winked at me. Maybe it would be okay?

I stood on the plank. Luke was walking very slowly – deliberately slowly – to the point where he began his run-ups.

I closed my eyes, and then opened them again. At least if I had my eyes open I would be able to see where I was going.

I’d heard lots of excited conversations amongst the first-formers who did it the day before about what it was like to be up in the air. Mark said you could control which direction you went in, and how high you went, through careful control of the movement of your legs, feet, arms and fingers. He’d given us impressive demonstrations of how this was done. Even I, as much as I hate Mark, had listened with rapt attention, even though he’d made comments like, ‘but of course John is too scaredy to do anything like this and should still be in junior school.’

Luke began his run-up. I waited attentively, determined not to jump off the plank early this time. Everybody was watching me.

I am going to do it, I thought. I am going to fly.

With a great thud and a heavy grunt, Luke crashed down onto the plank.

Wheeeeeeeeeeee!

I was flying!

My feet hurt at first but now it was lovely, up here.

I watched the school building rise and then begin to fall.

I looked down.

Wheeeeeeee!

Thump!

I was on the ground. Fortunately I’d landed on grass, and not a nearby concrete path.

For a few moments I don’t think I knew where I was. Then I heard lots of really loud cheering and clapping and yelling.

Some of the silly girls in the third-year were going really silly.

‘You did it! I can’t believe it!’ congratulated Luke. ‘That’s the highest anyone has gone! You’re the champ! Oh my God!’

Everybody chanted, ‘John, John, John!’

I was full of happiness. I had arrived; finally I was good at something. Now I was the boy who could fly.

In subsequent break-times the fifth-formers continued to hurl me into the air, non-stop each break-time. I got really good at it, and felt less and less inhibited.

One time I got a painful bruise, and told them I didn’t feel like doing it anymore. They were disappointed, but to tell the truth, I was bored of it by now. I’d rather be playing with my usual friends of my own age who were beginning to complain that I’d neglected them. Less and less people were watching, though I still felt the warm glow of being a school celebrity.

The next couple of break-times, as well, I didn’t want to do it. The hard-core of enthusiasts who were still pestering me to do it, led by Luke, were very pissed off with me. It was a pity the bruise didn’t look as sore as it actually was.

Eventually they worked out a ploy to lure me back onto the plank.

It would be the next big event.

‘John is too chicken to be bounced by David Stevenson,’ they went around telling everybody.

David was a new boy, a true giant of a fifth-former who must’ve weighed a tonne. He dwarfed Luke, who had previously been the biggest boy in the fifth-form, and his eating capacity at lunchtimes was legendary.

No, I decided, I didn’t want to try that!

‘Chicken, chicken, chicken!’ everybody taunted me down all the school corridors.

‘Alright then,’ I finally relented.

I regretted agreeing to it very soon afterwards.

Everybody got very excited. I told them how I knew how to fly in the air the proper way, and how stupid Mark’s way of flying in the air was.

I really enjoyed doing that.

I was scared though, but couldn’t back down now.

I told everyone how I was going to hold a tambourine from the music room in order to guide myself in the air. I told them how the material it was made from would control the air pressure, expertly helping me to fly higher but land more softly. It was great telling people in my class and the class above how much of an expert I was at flying.

Anyway, the moment came. There I was, on the plank.

David was there too, looking very big and scary. All week he’d been looking at me as if he wanted to psyche me out. His pride was at stake in this too.

‘Where’s my tambourine?’ I demanded.

‘Aint you got it?’ complained Luke.

‘I thought you had it.’

That bought me some time. One of the fifth-form prefects, who had the special privilege of being allowed inside the school at break-times, rushed off to the music room to get the tambourine.

The wait was awful. I felt more and more sick. Maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten lunch. Luke always advised me not to eat lunch when I was doing flying. It could make me sick, and stopped me flying so high. I’d missed an awful lot of lunches.

The prefect appeared from the school doors, carrying a tambourine.

I wished I could get out of this.

More than half of the school had gathered round now.

Mrs. Phipshaw emerged within the crowd.

‘What is this?’ she asked Luke politely.

‘A see-saw, ma’am,’ replied Luke with impeccable gentlemanliness.

‘Oh,’ said Mrs. Phipshaw, and she returned to the wooden table at the other end of the playground where she had been marking maths homework.

The cow, I thought. I wished she could’ve got me out of it.

Everybody was watching. It had fallen silent now.

There I stood, trembling on the plank, holding the tambourine in my right hand.

I must fly, I thought.

David took his run-up, his huge form hurtling closer and closer towards me.

I hope the air pressure is all right, I thought.

David stopped his run-up.

Phew, I thought.

‘Just a test,’ explained David.

Everybody accepted this and remained looking very serious.

You rotter, I wish this was over, I thought.

He began to run towards me again.

I shall fly like never before, I thought.

THUD!

I was falling – not upwards, but backwards.

I landed flat on my back, feeling very sore. The back of my head hurt, and so did my bottom.

‘Aaawww!’ everybody was whining.

I looked up. The plank had broken.

Well I’d proved I had the guts, but that was the last time I ever got to fly.