The first time she discovered she could fly, Kyra also discovered that she wasn’t very good at it.
Narrowly missing her lampshade, she veered to the right, trying to gain control, unfamiliar with this new mode of travel, and pulled back just in time to avoid a collision with the wall, tumbling head over heels in a clumsy display of aero-gymnastics.
Forcing herself to focus, she circled the room again, this time in a more controlled manner, then a third time; smoother still. Warm air embraced her as she glided. A golden beam of evening sunlight kissed her each time she drifted past the window. Her heart swelled.
Hovering above her bed she spun slowly in place, starting to master the movements now. Pointing her toes downward she stretched her arms up high, touching her fingers together like a ballerina. She wanted to laugh out loud but thought of her family downstairs, unaware. She spun faster and faster and… suddenly a knock on her door, a booming voice. “Kyra?”
A jolt shook her body as she fell back onto her bed, heart thudding. Sitting up, she panted, stunned to be grounded so suddenly, her head still flying around the room.
“Kyra?” her father called again through the door. “I’m making hot chocolate. Do you want some?”
“Yes, please, dad. I’ll be down in a sec,” she replied, hoping he wouldn’t detect the strange edge to her voice.
When she heard the tell-tale creaking of the bottom step as her father returned downstairs, she collapsed back on the bed. Unbelievable. Pulling the pillow from beneath her head, she hugged it close to her, laughing into it. I can fly. It sounded surreal. It sounded impossible. She could barely comprehend it. It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to Kyra Sutton, and that was saying something.
“Kyra?” her father’s voice called up the stairs again. “Hot chocolate’s ready.”
“Coming,” she called, and sighed.
Flying would have to wait.