The Girl Who Flies

Gabbie did not consider herself a freak, even though, on more than one occasion she had been described as such.

She did not have superhuman powers, even though her soul flew through the night sky while her body lay sleeping in bed. Anyone's soul could fly. All they had to do was believe. And Gabbie believed.

Though she could fly anywhere in the universe, there was only one place Gabbie wanted to go. Heaven.

When she was four, her mother, Katherine, died, severing her silver cord permanently. But that didn't stop them from spending time together. Every night, after Gabbie fell asleep her soul would slip from her body and race towards the pink sky where she knew her mother would be waiting.

That's where we were when Gabbie's silver cord, which was attached to her belly began to glow. It was a warning that any second her soul would return to the brownstone in New York City, where she lived with her grandmother, Alice Curtis and her sister, Victoria.

"Oh drats," Gabbie said. "I don't wanna go just yet."

But there was nothing I could do. It was my job to make sure her soul was where it needed to be, and right now it needed to be back in her body before the alarm clock in her bedroom rang.

And who am I, you ask?

I'm Gabbie's guide, keeper of her sacred scroll. She calls me Samuel.

My official title is: Spirit Guide. I know, it sounds impressive, but I'm not some enlightened being. I'm just an average soul, like Gabbie, except I live in another dimension. It's called Here. And Here looks just like there, but only a million times better. And where is Here? It's actually just three feet above there, though it vibrates so quickly I'm virtually invisible to all but a few. And Gabbie, she's one of the few.

Before Gabbie was born, I took an oath. I promised to guide her through her life to the best of my ability. I know every choice she could make, every road she could go down. But I can never, ever, interfere or hinder her plan in anyway. All I can do is make suggestions, try to make her life as smooth as possible. But ultimately, her life is her decision.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Gabbie said to her mother. A moment later, her soul was yanked from here towards there.

"I love you!" Katherine shouted, but the wall between her and her daughter, was now too thick for her daughter to hear. She looked at me, her slender fingers rubbing the golden key hanging around her neck. The token has given her comfort in times of trouble and the simple gesture told me more than words could say. She was worried.

According to Gabbie's scroll, a fork in her path is coming, and if truth be told, if fear were to consume her, things could get bad. Very very very bad.

"Don't worry Katherine, I got this." With a wink, I assured her, "She'll be fine."

As we flew through the space between dimensions Gabbie asked, "Can we take the scenic route?" She crossed her fingers and batted her big brown eyes. "Please."

"All right. But we need to make it fast, okay?" I said.

Gabbie shot ahead of me like one of the rockets her father builds. His name is Michael. He lives in Florida. After the car accident that took Katherine's life he was so overwhelmed by grief, and his job at the space center, it was impossible to properly care for his two young daughters, so Nana volunteered to raise them. They spent every holiday and vacation together, and one day Gabbie hoped they could all live together again.

As we soared through the sky, the sun was beginning to peek over the skyscrapers that loomed over the city. We shot down towards Central Park, where the trees burst with new life. Tiny clusters of bright lime leaves covered the limbs of the elm and maple trees. Pink and white flowers graced the branches of the dogwood trees. Wild crocuses pushed through the hard ground searching for the warmth of the sun, their purple petals stretching toward the sky.

The streets were quiet except for the squeal of a distant garbage truck. As we took a sharp left turn around a fifty-story building, we headed south toward Greenwich Village. Gabbie was ahead of me. I liked to let her think she could fly faster than I could.

She looked back at me. "Hurry up, slow poke!" she laughed.

I squinted my green eyes and gritted my teeth to make it look like I was flying as fast as I could. She threw her head back and laughed again.

When we approached her brownstone on W. 11th Street, Gabbie rolled into a tight little ball.

Swish!

She dropped like a cannonball through the roof. I dove in after her, headfirst. We passed through the attic filled with old junk that Nana Alice didn't have the heart to get rid of. There was the highchair the girls used before they came to live there, along with Gabbie's tricycle, Victoria's scooter, and a steamer trunk plastered with stickers from faraway places. Gabbie had once said she wanted to visit each place and according to her sacred chart, I was certain she could do it.

Inside the trunk were fancy dress-up clothes. Gabbie loved to play dress-up, but Victoria, two years her senior, didn't have the time or the desire to play the games they used to play. "I'm thirteen," she said, "too old to pretend I'm a princess." Or a movie star. Or an heiress, like one of those rich ladies who lived in a fancy penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue. She'd rather read or text her friends.

Gabbie tried to talk me into playing dress-up, but I refused. I told her it wasn't in my job description. A guy had to preserve his dignity, after all. So the old fur stoles and yards of costume pearls gathered dust instead of applause and laughter.

As Gabbie's soul passed through her bedroom ceiling, she flailed her arms trying to steer to the left. I knew that at this rate she'd miss her body completely and pass right through Victoria, who was standing over her bed blowing hard into a whistle. I gave Gabbie a shove. Thankfully, it worked. Her soul missed her sister and crashed into her own body sleeping in bed. I don't know which would be worse—passing through a human body or listening to Gabbie's complaints about passing through a human body. It's nothing to pass through something that isn't alive, but it's awful to pass through something with a heartbeat and a brain.

Gabbie's eyes popped open the minute her soul fussed with her shell. She was back. And just in the nick of time.