Wings

"If you had wings, what would you do?"

It is, of course, Lorcan who asks the question, in a dreamy tone of voice. It is, of course, Frankie who answers it first.

"I'd drop dungbombs on everyone I didn't like," she says with a grin. Molly rolls her eyes, because it's such a typical Frankie answer and, at fourteen, you'd have thought she'd be more mature.

"Trust you. I'd fly and see something beautiful," she adds, wondering at herself slightly because a year ago she'd have tried to rationalise it; told them that having wings was impossible, and refused to let her imagination go, "You know. Fly through the Alps, or over the Pacific or something."

She looks at Lysander, expecting him to say something similar to Frankie. He is lying on his front, but he rolls over and looks up, meeting her eyes with a sparkle.

"I'd go and fly over the sea, just low enough that I could feel the spray, and catch the edges of the waves" he says, surprising her so much her mouth falls open, and then goes on, "And then I'd go and jump into the Grand Canyon and just fall until I was almost at the bottom. Then I'd fly."

He looks up at her, that grin on his face that she can't resist.

"Come with me, Moll?"