Just like Dess said she could see numbers in her head, Jonathan claimed he could see the angles of his flight, the most elegant path appearing before him in bright lines. They all had their talents. She watched his body coil, knees flexing and arms spreading, absorbing the impact of his scant midnight weight against the grass, and felt herself pack the last threads of her anxiety away in a box labelled CRAP at the back of her brain.
Fear had been necessary for her first two weeks here in the secret hour—her survival had depended on it. Jonathan swept his gaze around the horizon, checking for anything with wings. Then turned to her and smiled.
His steps carried him in soft arcs a foot high, kind of like an astronaut taking a stroll on the moon. Just watching you walk. I prefer flying. As her lips brushed his, gravity lifted from Jessica, a familiar lightness flowing through her body.
She pulled away and sighed, her sneakers settling back into the grass. His long, dark lashes blinked. He was smiling broadly now. Jessica took it, and the lightness filled her again. Flying with Jonathan had become like breathing. They hardly spoke, negotiating their course with a gesture toward an open stretch of road. Just before each jump, Jess tightened her right hand around his. Without saying so out loud, Jessica wanted to test how close she could get to the badlands without attracting attention.
The badlands were visible from here, a dark bruise stretching across the blue horizon, but she and Jonathan were alone in the sky, except for a lonely, motionless owl riding the stilled winds.
The darklings and their kin were still very afraid of her, Jessica told herself. Jessica had four. One: Jump at the same time as Jonathan. Otherwise you go spinning. Two: Push off forward, not straight up. You want to get somewhere, not hang around in midair. Three: Flat is good. Aim to land on rooftops, parking lots, and roads.
Lawn ornaments can be painful. Two weeks later the last bruises on her knees and elbows were just beginning to fade. A clear view in every direction, no possibility of a sneak attack. She swallowed and steadied her feet, a fear of heights returning along with gravity.
Half visible in the open field behind the gas station, a hazy column rose from the scrub grass. Motionless, glowing fragments were scattered throughout the apparition, suspended on a blurry, crooked tower of blue. Really weak ones. When I first moved here, I used to go out in the desert and stand in them. Not out in the desert, though. Just pure Oklahoma dust.
The dark moon was just visible through the patchwork clouds. She sighed. The midnight hour was half over already. Must redeem within 90 days. See full terms and conditions and this month's choices. About The Author. Photo Credit:. Scott Westerfeld. Product Details. Related Articles. The Price of Being Pretty. Awards and Honors. Resources and Downloads. This book about two siblings who work together to solve the mystery of the missing stuffed puppy.
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