When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [34]
The slate-black surface of the lake drew her closer. She could see thermal inversions rising off the water. Her teacher, her friend, Mrs. Beattie, had told her about wind currents, and how hot and cold affected flight. Max still retained all the information; that was one of her gifts.
Her wingspan cast an elongated shadow on the dark treetops below. Max watched the shadow, raced with it. She reached out, then ahead, then back, as if she were rowing. She flew faster and faster over the curved rim of the earth.
Mrs. Beattie, she thought. The School, her old home.
She could remember it vividly, only mostly she didn’t want to. She couldn’t help remembering, though—especially the worst things, and there were so many of them to choose from.
Early one morning, Mrs. Beattie had come to the small dormitory where she and Matthew slept. Mrs. Beattie had been their teacher for three years. Before Mrs. Beattie, there had been nannies, and other tutors; but they had changed all the time. None of them had showed very much love or caring. It wasn’t allowed at the School. Just science, work, discipline, testing, testing, testing.
“Max… Matthew,” Mrs. Beattie had whispered. Max was awake instantly, even before her teacher was at her bedside.
“We’re awake,” Matthew squawked. “We heard you coming.”
“Of course you did, dear. Now listen to me. Don’t speak until I’ve finished.”
It was something bad—Max could tell it was. Neither she nor Matthew said a word.
“Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” Mrs. Beattie whispered. Besides being a teacher, she was a doctor. She administered exams, especially the ones to test intelligence—Stanford-Binet, WPPSI-R, WISC III, the Beery Tests, Act III, all the rest.
“They’re going to put us to sleep, kill us, right? We’ve been expecting it.” Matthew couldn’t keep quiet for too long.
“No, dear. You’re both very special. You’re miracle children. You don’t have to worry. But darlings, little Adam was put to sleep last night. I’m so sorry to have to tell you.”
“Oh, no, not Adam! Not Adam!” Matthew moaned.
He and Max hugged Mrs. Beattie tightly and they couldn’t stop weeping, couldn’t stop shivering. Adam was only a little baby. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, and he was so smart.
“I have to leave now, dear. I didn’t want you to hear this from Mr. Thomas. I love you, Max. Love you, Matthew.” She hugged them close to her. “Don’t think badly of me.”
Soon after that, Mrs. Beattie was gone, too. One day, she just never came back to the School. They never saw or heard from her again. Max was sure she had been put to sleep.
Max suddenly realized that she was flying too fast and without looking where she was going. The memory of the School had upset her.
She changed direction and went into a steep climb toward the sun. Its brilliance shattered her vision, a blizzard of multicolored shades. Blinded, Max kept climbing, drawing in air that grew cooler and thinner in her lungs.
Finally, when she couldn’t stand it for a second more, she looped the loop. Then she went into a nosedive.
She fell straight toward the shimmering blue water of the lake.
Her wings felt glued to her sides. The air roared in her ears. Her lungs burned. She hit the water at a perfect angle.
Splashdown!
Unbelievable!
God, how she loved to fly.
Chapter 34
HARDING THOMAS stopped for coffee and a sugar hit at the Quik Stop in Bear Bluff. “Coffee, black as my heart,” he said to the counter clerk.
That was when he overheard the big-eyed, red-headed kids babbling to their mother near the freezer full of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.
Thomas wasn’t really listening to the kids as he was handed his coffee, not until he heard, “She was like a big, beautiful bird, Mommy. Like a Power Ranger, ’cept she was a real girl.”
Harding Thomas jerked to full attention when he heard that little mouthful of news. He almost dropped his coffee. Spilled some steaming java on his hiking boots.
The kids’ mother was wandering toward the checkout counter, mesmerized by the latest issue of People magazine. Her floppy thongs slapped the