Both of us flying side by side and doing our best not to look down as Buttercup chased along underneath us, sure it was some kind of game.
Both of us fully resolved to keep going, to not take a single look back, long after we’d flown over the large perimeter wall that for some strange reason stopped poor Buttercup right there in his tracks, until, just like me facing the Radiant Boys at their scariest, he realized his fear was all in his head and he ran through that too.
Both of us committed to just keep on keeping on — to not cave in to Buttercup’s awful, unceasing, continuous series of forlorn whining, howling, and yelps as he chased underneath us. So sure he’d been dealt a cruel hand of fate, that he’d been permanently and completely abandoned to the ground.
Both of us waiting,hoping for Buttercup’s desire to finally kick in just enough to where he’d be magically boosted and propelled right alongside us.
And just when I was sure I couldn’t take it anymore, just as I was about to break my own promise and swoop down toward my poor frantic dog and scoop him into my arms I saw him.
Ears pinned close to his head as his tail wagged like crazy. Causing him to swoop and swerve and even dive-bomb a few times in a way that truly sent my insides spinning, until he figured it out, got a hold of himself, and learned to use it as a rudder, steering him along, and keeping him on course, until he was fully caught up and soaring right there alongside us, as though he’d been doing it for days.
And even though I couldn’t listen in on his thoughts or read what might’ve been going on in his mind, his expression was all I needed to know that he loved every last second of it.
Loved it more than a warm patch of sun, a bowl full of biscuits, and an extra long car ride with all the windows rolled down.
Loved it more than all of those things combined.
Buttercup had found a new favorite pastime.
And he took to it as naturally and gracefully as a bird.
We soared through white, fluffy, mist-laden clouds.
We soared over snowy mountaintops and buildings and rivers and lakes.
We soared past large flocks of birds that Buttercup barked at and chased after, determined to get a hold of one and bring it back proudly as some kind of trophy in the way that he often did when he was alive.
Each time glancing back at Bodhi and me in complete and utter confusion, when instead of capturing one of them, he flew directly through them.
And the moment we got to London, I knew.
Bodhi didn’t have to tell me, didn’t have to say a single word.
I just took one look at that wide winding river dotted with bridges and ships and lined with tall buildings, and I recognized it for exactly what it was.
The River Thames, the Westminster Bridge, Big Ben — we flew over it all. We even swooped in really, really close to the topmost capsule on the London Eye, which, in case you don’t know, is pretty much the earth plane’s coolest Ferris wheel, then we swooped down toward the bottom and back up again, trailing it carefully as it went around and around in the sky.
And after that, we took to the streets, gliding above one of those bright-red double-decker buses London is famous for, and past brightly curtained windows of apartment buildings, or flats as the locals refer to them.
Then we swooped down even lower, just barely grazing the tops of tall trees, then lower still, just barely grazing the tops of tall people.
And when I extended my finger, just barely tapping the brim of some guy’s hat and knocking it right off his bewildered head, Bodhi turned toward me, a disapproving look in his eyes as his lips sank down in a frown. But I just laughed and I stuck my tongue out at him before doing it again for good measure.
We kept going, heading toward a busy circle I thought I recognized from pictures I’d seen of Piccadilly, and that’s when I spotted it.
Or rather,them.
The large crowds of people.
All of them hurrying off to the office, or school, or wherever it is that people rush off to after eating their breakfast and getting dressed for the day.
All of them sharing one thing in common — they were all headed somewhere, and they were all determined to get there quickly.
All of those hundreds of people with somewhere to go — every last one of them totally and completely oblivious of me.
Having no clue that I soared right above them.
No idea that it was I who caused the stir on the backs of their necks and the breeze at their cheeks.
Completely unable to see me in the way I could see them.
Clearly.
Succinctly.
Down to every last detail.
They were alive and breathing and so utterly clear to me, and yet — not one of them had even the slightest sense we existed.
A girl, her guide, and her dog — all hovering right there above them.
Gazing upon the clueless masses beneath.
My throat grew all lumpy, and my eyes started to sting, so I forced myself to switch my attention to something else, watching as Buttercup continued to chase birds, looping and spinning and swirling and jumping, putting out increasing amounts of effort to no avail whatsoever, and coming no closer to understanding why he was so unsuccessful.
I even sneaked a peek at Bodhi, who’d ditched the nerd wear the moment we took flight, quick to explain how he thought the suited look would command more respect, make people (meaning me and his guide) take him more seriously than we would had he being wearing his usual gear. Though I think we could both agree that as far as experiments went, that particular one was a massive fail.
But having swapped out the nerd wear for the far more appropriate jeans and sweater and sneakers kids his age usually wear, he was about as far from a dorky guy as one could possibly get. And I guess that’s why he seemed so off before. It was like, from the catcalls that followed him to the stage at graduation, to that casual, slouchy way that he stands, not to mention the way he really tears it up on a skateboard — well, it just didn’t fit with the look he was trying to pull. It’s like he was in disguise before, like he was wearing some kind of costume, determined to hide the fact that he was just like any other normal fourteen-year-old boy.
Only Bodhi wasn’t normal.
Not even close.
Because not only was he dead. Not only was he my guide. But with his hair no longer greased back, with his clothes no longer coming from Nerd Central, with his face no longer obscured by those awful, unbreakable frames that he wore, he was actually, well,cute.
No. Scratch that. Because the truth is, he was way past cute.
He was pretty much the Zac Efron of the afterlife.
But the second he caught my eye, caught me looking at him, I looked away.
The last thing I needed was for him to read those particular thoughts.
And just to protect myself further, just to keep everything orderly and straight and tucked away in its place, I’d also decided that, no matter how cute and nice he might continue to reveal himself to be — he would always, secretly at least, remain dorky guy to me.
It was easier that way.
I pushed my legs together and pointed my toes like arrows, having learned earlier that doing so would rid me of any and all wind resistance, and allow me to soar even faster and higher. And even though I heard Buttercup barking behind me, torn between chasing after me and a whole new flock of birds he’d stumbled upon, even though Bodhi called out to me, saying, “Hey — Riley — just say the word when you’re ready to come in for a landing!” I
