If I Could Fly Read Online Free Page B

here. There are boards saying
Keep Out, Private Property
across the drive. There must be a mistake. A hospital never turns patients away. As my eyes scan the upper segment of the building, I notice that some of thewindowpanes are broken or missing and there’s ivy creeping under the roof gables. It has an air of neglect, like a corpse left behind on the battlefield, a casualty of war.
    Look at the problem every which way, Paper Clip; the size of the barriers, the angle needed for your ascent.
    I’m jogging with heavy feet along the perimeter of the wall, hoping for an opening, an explanation, a welcome. I’m greeted by streams of black and red graffiti tags, locked doors and high metal gates chained together. I wrap my fingers round the cold bars and rest my head against them, exhausted.
    ‘No, no, no, no, NO,’ I’m saying, over and over again, in disbelief. My arms are wrenching at the gates, which make a clanking noise like a metal monster yawning, but barely move.
    I’m staring into the overgrown garden where three swings suspended from a wooden frame sway in the breeze, bumping into one another aimlessly. A rocking-horse head with grab bars has fallen off its spring andlies amongst the wild grass. Two benches lie smashed and in pieces. On a third sits a small teddy, holding a red heart. His fur is grey with dirt. His eyes are fixed in my direction, unblinking. A shiver ripples down my body from my skull to my toes. It is so unexpected, I bite my tongue.
    For some crazy reason, I want to hold the bear. I scan the road, up and down. No vehicles. No pedestrians. Only the greedy gulls peck, peck, pecking. I move back to the wall, which is about three metres high and has a ledge at the top. This would be a classic manoeuvre for the Feathers involving just three actions, so here goes:
    1. Jump up from a standing position, grabbing the ledge
    2. Pull up and anchor my body with a foot on the ledge
    3. Roll or swing over the top of the wall, landing silently
    OK, not exactly silently, but I’ve done it! Easy peasy lemon squeezy, even if I have grazed my left hand and twisted my right ankle almost out of its socket. Crease would have scaled the wall almost without touching it, but, hey, he’s Phoenix Alpha.
    I’m crouching low, checking the terrain. Red tape cordons off the grassy area in front of the main entrance. The remains of large cardboard boxes and several piles of old blankets are spread out behind it. Cans of drink are lined up against the side of the hospital’s wall and a bare rose bush is wearing a man’s jacket, bent low under the weight.
    The grounds are a mess, the tarmac driveway breaking up under pressure from weeds pushing through from the earth below. Information signs have been removed, leaving only the metal poles they were attached to.
    A lot of the windows I’m looking at now are boarded up. One of the boards even has a neat painting of a blond kid waving from inside a window.Artist joker! Must have taken ages to do. It looks quite spooky.
    There’s no one about, hardly any sound, just the distant thrum of traffic from the town and an occasional
rawk-rawk
of a seagull, flying overhead. I move cautiously towards the bench and its lone inhabitant, ready to run if there is so much as a whisper of danger.
    The bear looks smaller up close. I sit next to him and lift him on to my lap. He is still wet from the rain. His eyes are scratched and misty. When I squeeze his heart, he says, ‘I love you,’ in a funny voice.
    ‘I love you too,’ I reply, and give him a kiss on his damp head. He smells of wood and leaves, of night air and soggy stuffing.
    ‘You need a name, bear,’ I tell him, looking into his face. ‘You look like you were once fluffy, but now your fur is matted and flat. The seams of your paws are coming undone. You should go to teddy hospital. Maybe you came here, just like me, thinking they wouldmake you better. Easy mistake to make. I think we’re not allowed to be sick any more,