-THE MAN WHO LEARNED TO FLY-

 - a short story by Levi Klassen

God... What is the point of life? Like, honestly. Why am I even in school if it has completely nothing to do with what I want? Mr. Collymore can drone on for as long as he wants about how the tree bark of a willow tree can be used as painkillers and fever reducers; I honestly couldn’t care more. But why is time moving so freaking slow? The clock, it’s like, mocking me. It catches me staring at it and flips me off. I’m a bit taken aback but what can I do? Fight time? I know I’d lose. I give up staring at the clock and go back to picking at a fresh scab I got from falling yesterday. 

Mr. Collymore is my Environmental Science professor. He’s an odd fellow. His beady yellow eyes hide behind the top rim of his spectacles because he wears them so low. But let’s just say he’s the kind of man that when you see him, you can tell that he’s already tried everything else in life, failed at it, then decided to reside in educating uninterested and passive students on how plants impact our society. Reyna is my only friend in the class. Actually, the only friend in life, but if I’m being completely honest with myself, I don’t need friends. They hinder me. Prevent me from focusing on what I’m trying to accomplish in the moment. Like that one time when Natalie invited me over to her place to have “fun”. Apparently, her definition of fun was vomiting all night because she didn’t believe that the bottle of ipecac we found in the medicine cabinet actually did what it was supposed to – make you vomit chunks. We’re not really friends anymore.

Reyna is a good listener. She’s the only one, besides my caretakers that would actually listen to me rant about how I was going to be the first man to actually fly someday. I turn towards her and she puts an imaginary gun to her head, pulls the trigger and drops her head onto her desk a little too loudly. There’s a muffled chuckle in the classroom. Mr. Collymore spins around after completing a drawing on the whiteboard of a sunflower with a frowny face giving a group of human stick figures the thumbs down. Really? This guy is a qualified high-school teacher? As he inhales, ready to scold Reyna, the bell rings and saves her, and quite frankly saves us all from yet another pointless day in school. We pick up our bags and leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow” Reyna says. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess” I respond solemnly. She slings her backpack onto her back as we exit the building. It’s bright outside, the sky is beautiful. There are a few stray clouds here and there, but besides that, it’s just a vast sea of blue. Unlimited space for me to swim in. Some kids are making out near the bus stop. I overhear some jocks talking about a pool party happening later. But all I could think about was how badly I wanted to escape all of this. To just leap into the sky and never have to come back down again. I get to where my bike is parked, helmet’s been stolen. Who needs that anyways? I hop on Hermes and pedal to the farm.

The farm is where I spend most of my time after school. Everyone has a safe space where they find comfort and mine is the farm. Ya know, some kids like to be locked in their room, some like to get high at Jonas’s place, some prefer to vandalize the abandoned library that Mr. Patterson used to own on 42nd street before he died of drug overdose. Word is he got his hands on some extremely rare class-A level drug. How he knew about this? No one knows. They say knowledge is power. How ironic. 

After 4 songs or so, I arrive at the barn, grab my carving knife I hid next to the sliding door and climb on top of the barn. I put another gash into the wooden roof with my knife and tally up the strokes. 144 attempts. It’s been a pretty rough year for me with 36 blackouts, 22 broken bones, 8 concussions, and it’s gotta be at least 100 scrapes spread across my body. I don’t know how but today might actually be the day that I learn how to fly. I quickly flip through my notes, checking my calculations. I look to my anemometer for the wind speed. I built that shit out of 4 ladles attached to an old lamp post with some rope, but it works as it’s supposed to. It looks just breezy enough for the wind to carry me a bit once I take off. I play Gonna Fly Now, the theme song from Rocky from my iPhone. I walk to the edge of the roof and overlook the prairie. There’s so much out there to explore, it’s such a waste to see that vastness yet not be able to touch it. I’m so close to succeeding. I know it. 

I ready myself by taking a couple of deep breaths. I slip on my aviator goggles my grandpa Philip gave to me after his flying days were over. I look down as I stand on the precipice of potential death. I’m standing at about 40 feet above the ground but it feels like 80. How I have not died yet I haven’t the slightest clue. Maybe it’s God’s way of showing me that I can really do this. I take one final breath and back up a little bit so I can get a running start. “Okay Will, you got this.” I charge full speed and bound off the building with one strong leap! I close my eyes, and my senses awake. I outstretch my arms and flap them. A gust of wind assists me from behind, brushing past my body and lifting me higher and higher. I smell the dew of the grass and blossoming trees leftover from this morning. My whole body is tingling, trying to numb my senses. But the senses fight back and I feel alive! I close my eyes in pure bliss…

…And wake up to people huddled over me. The sun is just about to disappear over Mt. Caneval. Everything is so loud. Everyone seems to be shouting all at the same time. I struggle to fully open my eyes, and when I do, the shouting dies to a murmur. “It’s him again” a woman says. She’s the first person I see when I open my eyes. “You crazy sombitch’. I saw you leap off that building like you were Spiderman or something” a man says from what seems to be a mile away. I can’t quite distinct his voice. I steady myself by putting my hands on the cold grass then hoist myself up. “Woah there”. A hand reaches for my shoulder and forces me back to the bone-chilling grass jabbing into my back. “You had quite the fall young man. And your head is bleeding.” I recognize this voice. It’s Orv, the mechanic. “How long was I in the air for?” “Bout 2 seconds. If you count the fall” replies Orv. I throw my fists into the ground. “Dammit! I swear I was in the air longer than that! I just know it!” I bury my face into my knees. Orv helps me up. “Come on Will. Let’s get you on home now.” I stand up groggily, feeling defeated but knowing I’m just gonna try again tomorrow.