Science Fiction for Young Readers, grade 4 up
Story by Terry Gibson ©

     High above the assembled crowd, 
Tabitha's whole body was going numb, and 
her heart hammered in her ears.  The straps 
still crushed cruelly into her small 
shoulders but as she panted for breath, she
was too abstracted to regret not padding 
the shoulder straps.  Neither did she think 
of warmer clothes even though the wind was
cold.  It was no wonder that she forgot all 
about the magic of "Down."  The rope kept 
slipping and there was nothing she could do.
     "Please, please," she sobbed, begging, 
as the cold hands of fear shook her.

                         
     Meanwhile on the ground Greggy was 
gamely trying to read the rest of Tabitha's 
message, in which she told of the 
experiments and the near-disasters in class, 
ending with the fact that she had recently 
discovered the way to get down too, 
but his voice was no match for the noise 
and hysteria around him.
     All ceremony ceased.  No one cared 
that the program wasn't finished, and 
only a few had any urge to go home.  It 
was too scary.
     Greggy thought Tab had already proved 
her point, and wondered why she stayed up 
there; she had NEVER been this high before.  
They hadn't planned anything like this, 
and he hoped she knew what she was doing.  
In spite of his worry, Greggy had to admit 
that no one could ignore what Tab had done 
to help Mr. Player.
     No-bo-dy!

                         
     By then, ever mindful as principal of 
the school of her duty to protect the 
students, Mrs. Meander had called 911, and 
spoken to Tabitha's mother.  There was no 
doubt now of Jeremy Player's innocence, 
but what could anyone do, beyond what they 
were watching unfold above their heads?
Tabitha's totally convincing act told tales 
of loyalty and terrible tragedy.
     Consequences of the situation were 
gathering like ravens in the tree of Mrs. 
Meander's mind.  What could she have done 
differently?  What could she do now?  
Tabitha was far beyond reach.  And if, she 
hardly dared think, if Tabitha perished,
they would blame her at least, for 
mishandling it.  Incompetence perhaps.  
And worse, blame.
     Dark hours bring dark solutions.  
She would leave it all, school, teaching.  
A cold emptiness blew among her ravens, 
she smiled bleakly, "quothing 'Nevermore.'"

                         
     All eyes were on the small person 
so far above them.  At first they had not 
noticed what was happening.  Not until 
Tabitha's predicament was clear to 
sharp-eyed spectators who cried out "Look 
at the load!"  Even so, its significance 
did not fully hit them until the first 
sack of flour fell.
     Tabitha had watched the flour bags 
slide toward the edge, and when one fell, 
her upward motion increased.  She was too 
far from any point of reference really to 
notice.
     "Ooooooo..."  A moan of pain grew in 
the crowd as the second one hesitated on 
the edge, its extended position levering 
a sharper tilt...  "Oh NOOOOOO!" the 
second and third bags fell, followed almost 
immediately by the fourth and the pallet
itself.
     Tab never even saw what hit her but 
heard the crunching sound before all went 
black.  Like from a slingshot the heavy 
iron clamp had hit Tabitha's forehead 
square on and then glanced off in a wide
swing, bouncing back to attack her legs.
     Load gone, trailing the tether and 
for a while the rope until it too fell 
away, the missile she had become escaped 
its bond with the ground.
     Anguish was on every face as Tabitha, 
freed from her burden, quickly was smaller 
and smaller.

     Almost beside himself with horror 
Jeremy Player paced back and forth blindly 
unaware that tears were spilling down his 
cheeks....  To help him, that brave young 
girl had sacrificed everything.
     "She must have been hurt," Greg said 
to his mother, trying to understand why 
Tab had not controlled her rise.
     He was right.  Knocked unconscious 
by the blow, she could not slow down amid 
the crowd's shouted words, "Look UP!  UP 
there!  She's gone UP!  Look UP, see if you 
can see her." Out of control, Tabitha just 
accelerated as she continued to rise.
     "She shot UP like from a slingshot! 
Twenty more voices yelled, "She's UP THERE 
SOMEWHERE!"  Pandemonium followed.
     It was all caught on videotape, and 
poor Mrs. Mallow babbled, "She--She whipped 
UP--" pointing toward the sunny sky.  "And 
kept on going.  I can hardly even see her 
anymore." She wept, and so did many others.  
Cameras and camcorders caught it all.
     It was true, Tabitha had been 
swallowed by the brilliance of a midday sun.  
"We've LOST her!" was the anguished cry of 
the crowd, no longer seeing Tabitha, now 
hidden by high cloud.
     "We didn't believe her!" came a 
wailing cry.


     Rolph and Tom-Tom had of course 
watched the whole show, and for once, had 
little to laugh at.  Wordlessly, they had 
seen the emergency crew arrive, and watched 
the two helicopters take off in opposite 
directions.
     "You think they'll find her?" Rolph 
asked.
     "They better."  Tom Tom turned his 
back to hide completely unexpected tears.  
He had tormented her for years, but...
     He need not have hidden them, for 
Rolph had grief of his own to hide.  Both 
boys had entered a new country, unknown to 
them through years as bullies and scoffers, 
an unfamiliar place beyond the edges of 
themselves.  If they had talked of it, they 
would have found comfort in each other's
discovery, but instead they did not 
understand.  Only when they saw Mr. Player's 
reaction did they feel better about their 
own.

     People stirred nervously, gazing into 
the empty sky.  JP stood like a statue, a 
look of desolation on his wet face, staring 
up at the place where Tabitha had last been 
seen.  He could not see her anymore.  Many 
like JP did not move.
     Nobody went home.
     The media got their story all right.  
Some reporters rushed off to file their 
story as soon as Tab was lost, and it was 
picked up by the wire services where the 
loyalty of a young teen grew into an 
international sensation.  American tabloids 
had a young hero and sold lots of paper
milking the few facts they knew.
     Other reporters rushed to the scene 
for human-interest stories, interviewing 
anyone who would stand still long enough.
     They approached Greggy, and asked if 
they might use the notes.  "Somebody told 
us that you tried to read some funny 
stories about--"
     "Funny..."  Greg whispered.  "Funny?"	
It was true, not funny!
     "Well that's what I heard."  
Apologetic tone for being thoughtless...
     "Yes," Greggy said, "Things that 
happened in class before, when each attack 
was a surprise."
     "Great, is there something in 
particular...?"
     "Well, the nurse's room scales,  They 
threw out the clunky balance scales and 
replaced them with one that has an 
electronic readout." He was suddenly glad 
to have the diversion of their questions
and added, "The same thing would happen 
with that..."  And so the conversation went, 
amid flashes as pictures were taken.
     Greggy would be amazed to find himself 
in the biggest national newspaper with a 
two-page spread.  He had quite forgotten
himself in happy memories of the way Tab's
problem had turned them into best friends.
His mother would save it and cry, for the 
headline was "Little Brother's Love Shines 
in His Words"  It would be a cherished item 
not only in the Gray family, but in homes 
all over the country, and no doubt led to 
greater harmony among siblings.  A subhead 
read, "Brother tells of family friendship
with Mr. Player."  JP would read it so 
many times his copy would be tattered.
     It would become a prize winning story, 
but of course no one knew it at the time.

     They tried to interview Mr. Player, 
who could only say over and over, "We have 
to help her.  We have to help her."
     "Yes, sir, we sure do," one said
     "We have to help her."
     "You are Mr. Player?" another asked, 
and at his nod, asked, "Was she as hard to 
carry in from the playground?" A teaser...
     "We have to help her."
     "Is it true that people thought it was
something else...um, illicit?"
     "We HAVE to help her.  WE HAVE to--"
     "I know, but did you do--" There was 
a nudge-nudge look on his face and the 
other started to to interrupt...
     "Please," JP said, "we have to--"
     Both completed it: "--help her.  Yeah, 
we know."
     The first said, "Well, thank you, Mr. 
Player," and pulled his colleague away by 
the arm, softly muttering, "Nut case, nut 
case, nut case."

     They talked to the little kids who 
would remember for the rest of their lives 
the wonders of Tabitha's flight.  
Breathlessly, the little kids told in 
detail about Tab's visit to Mrs. Mallow's 
classroom that day to show she really
could float and do all kinds of things in 
the air. Asked about what had just 
happened, the little kids, who obviously 
watched too many cartoons, were not worried.  
"Oh she'll be back for supper," one little 
guy said.
     "And she'll tell us if angels really 
sit on clouds."
     "And play music," another added.
     "Maybe she'll tell us if she saw my 
grandma up there," a dear little blonde 
girl with pigtails said. "I really miss 
my grandma.  She used to teach me songs."
     "My grandpa showed me how to bait a 
hook when we went fishing."
     A flashbulb caught their wonder.
     "And you think Tabitha went to Heaven?" 
the reported asked.
     "Yes. She went up and then we couldn't 
see her anymore," a little boy said.
     When that story came out in the 
morning edition, it was picked up by 
Canadian Press, and featured in papers next 
day across the land, "Faith is strong in the 
Young," read one editorial and it prompted 
more letters to the editor than any story 
except Greggy's, in the past ten years.

                         
     Meg Warren had forgotten in her horror, 
to record what she had seen, but it would 
remain in her mind as a source many 
nightmares.  Not having written poetry 
before, Meg wrote a beautiful epic poem, 
unforced in its form, and so sincerely
hopeful of a safe return "having rested in 
God's hand" that it would become a classic 
to give heart to grieving parents and 
friends in times of great danger.
     Mrs. Mallow's camcorder, sitting as 
it was, on the tripod, faithfully tracked 
Tabitha's ascent until as a tiny dot, 
invisible to the searching eye, it was 
swallowed by high cloud.  In viewing
it later, the small group of Tab's most 
important people stopped dead at its 
finality.
     Tabitha was gone.

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