Boys Life

through the back of his shirt as they grew from his shoulder blades.
    “His wings are gettin’ bigger!” I said. “They’re the same color as his hair, and they’re lazy from not bein’ used for so long, but now they’re startin’ to beat! Look at ’em! Just look!”
    Ben’s feet lifted off the earth, and his wings began to take him upward.
    “Tumper’s goin’, too!” I said. “Wait for him, Ben!”
    Tumper’s wings unfurled. Yapping nervously, the dog ascended beneath his master’s heels. “Come on, Tumper!” Ben cried out. “Let’s go!”
    “Davy Ray!” I said. “Do you feel it?”
    He wanted to. He really did, but I could tell he wasn’t ready. “Johnny!” I said. “You’re about to go!”
    Johnny’s wings, when they exploded from his shoulder blades, were shimmering black. He went up with big red Chief flapping at his side. I looked up at Ben, who was already fifty feet above the earth and flying like a pudgy eagle. “Ben’s leavin’ you, Davy Ray! Look up there at him! Hey, Ben! Call Davy Ray!”
    “Come on up, Davy Ray!” Ben shouted, and he turned a barrel roll. “The air’s just fine!”
    “I’m ready!” Davy Ray said, his teeth clenched. “I’m ready! Talk me up, Cory!”
    “You can feel your wings startin’ to grow, can’t you? Yeah, I see ’em! They’re gettin’ ready to bust free! Here they come! They’re loose!”
    “I feel ’em! I feel ’em!” Davy Ray grinned, sweat on his face. His sleek auburn-colored wings began to flap, and he ascended with a swimming motion. I knew that Davy Ray was not afraid of flying; he never had been in the summers we’d been coming here. He was only afraid of that first leap of faith when you left the ground. “Buddy’s comin’ after you!” I shouted as the dog’s brown-and-white-spotted wings caught the air. Buddy dog-paddled upward.
    My own wings suddenly burst from my shoulder blades, unfurling like brown flags. They ripped through my shirt, hungry for wind. I felt the delirium of freedom lighten my bones. As I began to rise, I had a few seconds of panic akin to the summer’s first jump into the cold waters of the public pool. My wings had been tight and dormant under my flesh since the end of August, and though they might have twitched every once in a while around Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas vacation, and Easter break, they had been asleep and only dreaming of this day. They felt heavy and ungainly, and I wondered-as I did every summer since our ritual had begun-how such things could read the air almost of their own accord. And then my wings filled up with wind and I felt their awesome muscular might. They gave a jerking motion, like the reaction after a sneeze. The second flap was more controlled and powerful; the third was as pretty as poetry. My wings began to beat in the current of air. “I’m doin’ it!” I shouted as I rose after my friends and their dogs in the bright sky.
    I heard a familiar barking, close behind. I looked back. Rebel’s white wings had grown, and he was following me. I flapped upward, following the others who followed Ben. “Not so fast, Ben!” I cautioned, but he was soaring toward seventy feet. He deserved to fly, I thought, for what he had endured on the ground. Tumper and Buddy swooped around and around in a long lazy circle and Rebel barked to be allowed in the game. Chief, like his master, was more of a loner. Then Rebel swooped over toward me again and licked my face, and I put my arm around his neck and together we soared above the treetops.
    Davy Ray had conquered his fears. He made a caw-caw-cawing sound and he put his head straight down with his arms rigid at his sides and he dove at the earth, laughing. His wings were smoothed back along his shoulders, his face contorted by the rush of air. “Pull up, Davy Ray!” I shouted as he streaked past me with Buddy in dogged pursuit. “Pull up!”
    But Davy kept going down toward the green forest. When it seemed he was doomed to crash like a meteor, his wings suddenly spread out like a beautiful fan and he jackknifed his body upward. He could’ve chewed on pine needles if he’d wanted. Davy flew across the treetops, yelling with delight, but Buddy crashed through a few thin branches before he got himself straightened out again. The dog came up from the trees spitting and growling, leaving shell-shocked squirrels in his wake.
    I kept rising toward Ben. Off by himself, Johnny was executing slow figure-eights. Rebel