Sweeping, swooping, soaring, air-current thrill rides — there’s nothing better. For miles around, we were the only things in the infinite, wide-open, clear blue sky. You want an adrenaline rush? Try tucking your wings in, dive-bombing for about a mile straight down, then whoosh! Wings out, grab an air current like a pit bull, and hang on for the ride of your life. God, nothing is better, more fun, more exciting. Okay, we were mutant freaks, we were on the lam, but man, flying — well, there’s a reason people always dream about it. “Oh, my gosh!” the Gasman said excitedly. He pointed. “A UFO!” I silently counted to ten. There was nothing where the Gasman had pointed. As usual. “That was funny the first fifty times, Gazzy,” I said. “It’s getting old.” He cackled, several wingspans away from me. There’s nothing like an eight-year-old’s sense of humor. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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