I head for the elementary school playground down the street. The only thing of interest I find is two teens hooking up in the tunnel slide and a burned-out joint in the parking lot. The schoolyard is pretty eerie. I peek through every window just in case and check around the dumpsters too.
Back in the car, I give in and call Matt, but I’m sent straight to voice mail. “Matt?” My voice cracks on his name. “Call me back when you can.”
As I’m hanging up, my phone vibrates with a text.
MATT: Hey. Sorry. At a movie with that barista. Call you later.
Great.
I begin to type a response, explaining that I think Grandma Lou is missing, but immediately hit the backspace button. Maybe this is nothing. Maybe she’s totally fine and this is all just some kind of weird misunderstanding. He’ll call me after, and if we still haven’t found Grandma Lou, I’m sure he and Ches will come over ASAP.
I glance around the school property. Suddenly Glenwood feels too big. For all I know, now that I’m at the school, she could be at the playground.
That’s when I know what I have to do.
I park my car on the back side of the elementary school and pace for a minute. What’s the point of being able to fly if you’re not going to actually fly, right? And I’ve never tried flying longer distances, but now’s the time.
I’ve given myself a million reasons not to stretch my flying muscles. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to get caught. But the truth is that I’m scared. No matter what I know to be true about superheroes from every comic or movie I’ve ever consumed, none of it prepared me for the reality of being one myself. I know how all this should work—secret identities, ruthless villains, and badass superpowers—but this isn’t a comic book or a movie. If I’m going to do this, it’s going to be on my own terms.
Just like how I concentrated so hard on landing in the corn maze, I span my arms out and let the wind take me, and I’m soaring through the air. For a moment I feel graceful. I feel in control of my body in a way I never have before. In that moment, for just an instant, I’ve found my purpose. Floating higher and higher, I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. Even though Grandma Lou is missing, I’m flying and I’m doing it with absolute precision. Holy—
An earsplitting caw rings in my ear, accompanied by the flapping of wings. I open my eyes just in time to see a bird whiz straight past my head.
“Hey!” I shout at it, spinning around in midair. “You could have taken my head off!”
Add bird flight patterns to the list of things I need to research.
I look down and— “Holy crap. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Am I scared of heights? I don’t even know. Should I be scared of heights? Um, yes. Probably. Wow. Am I ever going to get used to this?
I’m not as high up as a plane, but I’m definitely not skimming rooftops either. The fear dissolves as I realize how mother-freaking cool this is.
“Woo-hoo!” I shout, zipping in a circle. My voice is swallowed up by wind, and all the people of Glenwood who live their very normal, very average lives have no idea that Faith, the bubbly fat blond girl who’s a walking Wikipedia page for all her favorite fandoms, is flying high above them.
I’ll never forget swimming with my mom at our apartment complex’s pool. Mom wasn’t a small person either, and she and I floated all over the pool—me in my swimmies—as she talked all about how feeling weightless was her favorite thing in the world. That’s how I feel in this moment—totally weightless—and the best part is that the joke’s on everyone who’s ever made fun of me or whispered about me, because in the end, I’m the one who’s lightest on her feet.
This is a whole new view of Glenwood. I can even see the Minneapolis and Saint Paul skylines from here. I want to see how far I can go, where my flight can take me.
But tonight I’m on a mission. I have to find Grandma Lou.
Meticulously, I weave up and down every neighborhood, scanning alleyways and backyards. I’m thankful for the cover of night, but this would be so much easier with some daylight.
I even do a low flyover of the old factory where Grandma Lou used to work, baking and packaging snack cakes, but there’s no sign of her.
My cheeks and fingers are numb with the cold. I’ve got to really think about some kind of weather-appropriate attire if I’m planning on flying through Minnesota nights. After a while, I find myself on Ches’s side of town, and I hover over her street. I know Matt’s not there and that he’s out with his barista, but still my heart is in my throat as I check just to be sure that his car isn’t at her house.
It’s not. Matt’s car is nowhere to be seen, but just as I’m about to soar off a little higher, I notice someone walking out of Ches’s front door.
Grant Vincent, slimeball extraordinaire.
“See you later, Ches Pie,” he calls as the door shuts behind him.
I watch as he walks out to his Jeep and then takes off down the street.
Ches hates Grant just about as much as she hates organized religion and the patriarchy. What could he be doing at her house? And calling her pet names! There’s no way she’s hooking up with him. Ches would never. She can’t stand guys like him.
I wish I could just swoop down there right now and ask her. Hey, uh, I was just taking a quick nighttime fly because my grandmother is missing. Oh yeah, and my grandmother is kind of falling apart and I basically have no guardian right now, but could you please explain why the hell the sleaziest guy in school just left your house and called you Ches Pie? Which, by the way, is a pretty cute nickname. Why didn’t I think of that?
Yeah, I don’t see that going over very well. And besides, I’ve got bigger issues tonight.
If Grandma Lou weren’t missing, I’d be able to enjoy the freedom I’ve found in flying tonight, but no matter how hard I search, I don’t find any sign of her.
After what feels like hours, I make my way back to the school, where I left Grandma Lou’s car. I check my phone to find no missed calls or text messages.
At home, Miss Ella is sitting on the couch, watching QVC just like she said she would be.
“Anything?” I ask.
She shakes her head and hops right up, shuffling into the kitchen. “You look like you’ve just taken a stroll with a tornado. Let’s get you something warm to drink. Come on.”
I take my coat off and leave it on the hooks by the front door, where I also leave Grandma Lou’s coat. Yanking one of the fleece throws off the back of the couch, I wrap it around my shoulders and cozy myself into the couch.
Miss Ella returns a minute later with some hot chocolate and a few of the little biscuit cookies Grandma Lou eats with her late afternoon coffee.
The hot chocolate burns as it goes down, but it feels too good, so I ignore the tingling on my tongue as it singes my taste buds. After I finish, I kick my legs up underneath me and force my eyes open, fighting off drowsiness. I need to be awake to hear my phone or the doorbell.
My thoughts begin to slow, and the television feels farther and farther away until I’m flying in loops all over the city, searching and searching. Days pass and I watch as my friends and everyone I’ve ever met live their lives below me. I’m destined to watch them from above, but I can never quite land. Even Mom and Dad are there, ducking in and out of coffee shops and comic book stores. I’m just a spectator. Forever on the outskirts.