Float - A Free Short Story

A few minutes into my first day of fifth grade, Mrs. Lawson has already seated most of the class. She must be going in reverse alphabetical order because my last name is Elliott, and I’m still standing.

Finally, she calls my name, and my arm shoots up. “That’s me.”

She points to a desk. “You’re here. Next to Frankie.”

I look, and realizing who she means, my stomach drops. I don’t want to sit next to a boy, especially not Frankie Flynn. My face heats as I plop into my chair at the desk next to his. Frankie freaks me out, not only because he’s a boy but because he only started at my school the previous year. I’ve known most of the kids in my grade since kindergarten, but Frankie only recently moved to the neighborhood.

“Hey, Sarah,” Frankie says as I shove my notebook and pencil box into the desk’s nook.

“Hey,” I manage back.

Mrs. Lawson’s having none of it. “Please no talking right now. I’m assigning seats, and the other students won’t be able to hear their names if you’re talking while I’m talking.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Lawson,” Frankie says. “It was my fault.”

Mrs. Lawson twists her fingers in front of her mouth. “Just button your lips for now, okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

I sigh and stare at the top of my desk. My face is so hot, I worry I’m sweating. Thank goodness my mom started making me wear deodorant last year, or I’d be stinky as well. And wouldn’t that just be great.

Once all the other students are seated, Mrs. Lawson announces that we’re going to jump right in by having a practice spelling bee. We all line up in the center aisle of the classroom and each of us takes a turn moving to stand in front of the chalkboard to spell a word Mrs. Lawson yells out. This goes on for about an hour, with most of my classmates dropping out after one or two words, before the only people still standing are me, Frankie, and a girl named Jennifer.

“Okay,” Mrs. Lawson says. “The three of you stand in front of the chalkboard and face the class. This is the final stretch.”

We do as she asks, but I can’t stop fidgeting. It’s so uncomfortable having everyone’s eyes on me. Luckily, Mrs. Lawson barely pauses before giving the first word to Jennifer.

“Okay, Jennifer. Your word is fortuitous,” she announces.

“Oh, jeez,” Jennifer says. “Okay. Fortuitous. F A R T...” She trails off at the T as if she needs to think about the next letter.

But, OMG, she just spelled out the word fart. My eyes widen, and I bite the inside of my lip, trying not to giggle. Then Frankie snorts out a laugh, and I lose it. So does the rest of the class. We all burst into giggles.

“All right,” Mrs. Lawson says. “Everyone quiet down.” Once we do, she says, “I’m sorry, Jennifer, but that’s not correct. The second letter is an O, not an A. Please return to your seat.”

As Jennifer walks away, I glance over at Frankie. He’s barely holding it together. His face is like a grinning balloon, cheeks puffed out and lips stretched into a thin smile. A breathy laugh boils up from my chest and out my nose. At the sound, Frankie squeezes his eyes shut. The air filling his cheeks bursts through his lips, and he bends over, resting his hands on his thighs, as he laughs uncontrollably.

I can’t help chuckling at him. And when I do, he turns his head to look at me and snorts laughter again. For the second time, I lose it. I start to laugh and can’t stop. Then my body does something really weird. It begins to float. Or at least it feels like it’s floating. When I look down, my feet are still on the floor. But it sure does feel like I’m in a pool, drifting on top of the water. The more I laugh, the more the sensation overtakes me.

“That’s enough, you two.” Mrs. Lawson’s command is like scissors snipping the taut string that’s keeping me afloat. At her words, I feel like my feet snap down to the floor.

“Frankie and Sarah, go sit down.” 

I’m in a daze as I take my seat.

“You okay?” Frankie whispers beside me.

“Something weird just happened.”

“What?”

Mrs. Lawson’s voice cuts in, though. “That was a good first practice round. We’ll be doing that twice a week until the end of the year when we have our school-wide spelling bee.”

“I’ll tell you later,” I say.

Frankie’s gaze is worried.

“At lunch,” I tell him.

He nods, and we both give Mrs. Lawson our full attention.

####

The cafeteria is also the auditorium. There’s a stage at the front, and rows of round tables fill most of the floor space. Long tables with attached benches line the side near the entrance to the food line. I enter the line and come out a few minutes later, carrying my tray, seeking out a good seat. In past years, I sat with a group of girls I’ve known since the first grade. But today, I search for Frankie. He’s seated at the end of one of the long tables. I walk over and set my tray down across from him. “Okay if I sit with you?”

“Uh huh,” he says as he digs into his mac and cheese.

I sit but don’t bother with my food yet. I’m too excited to tell him what happened during the spelling bee.

“You still want to hear about the weird thing from earlier?”

“Sure.”

I shuffle my feet and lean in close. I don’t want anyone else to hear. “Okay. So, remember when we started laughing and couldn’t stop?”

He shovels a spoonful of pasta into his mouth. “Uh huh.”

I look to my right and to my left and then lean in again. “Well, I got this really weird sensation.”

His eyes finally meet mine, and he swallows hard. “What kind of sensation?”

“Like I was floating.”

Those eyes go wide. “No way.”

“Yeah. Floating.”

“Sarah, I felt the same thing. I thought I was just getting light-headed. But, yeah, it felt like I was floating.”

“Holy crap,” I say.

“What do you think it was?”

“Dunno, but it felt really good.”

He nods his head. “I know.”

I glance over one shoulders and then the other. No one is listening. I turn back to Frankie and ask, “Do you think anyone noticed what was happening?”

“Nah. I didn’t actually see you floating. I think it was just a feeling we both got.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure. Imagine what people would think if we were literally floating on air. You think it’ll ever happen again?”

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

I eat a chicken nugget and then say, “Wanna hang out during recess?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. How’s the mac and cheese?”

“Needs salt.”

####

At recess, we start out on the swings, but other kids are waiting. So we move to the half-dome where we each sit in one of the lower triangles, legs dangling.

“You wanna have a contest?” Frankie says.

“What kind of contest?”

“A spitting contest.”

“Yuck,” I say even though I’m secretly intrigued. My dad is a great spitter. “How would it work?”

“We turn around so we’re facing out. Less chance of spitting on anyone. Then we take turns spitting. Whoever spits the farthest wins.”

“Okay.”

We both scramble down, turn around, and scramble back up. “You go first,” I tell Frankie.

“Okay. Here goes.” He presses his lips together for a few seconds. Then he purses them and blows. A string of saliva shoots out and then down, barely missing his shoes. “Crap. That was terrible.” He turns to me. “Now you”

“Okay.” I lean forward a little and mimic his preparation. Except when I blow, spit dribbles down my chin. “Crap.” I wipe at my face. “Guess you win that round.”

Frankie chuckles. “You’ll get better. It takes practice.”

“Let’s do it again.”

This time during his prep phase, Frankie swings his legs. Then he purses his lips and blows, and the stream of spit doesn’t even come close to his shoes.

He raises his arms in celebration. “Yes.”

“Wow,” I say in awe. “That was amazing. My turn.” Like him, I swing my legs and pucker up. My stream goes further this time, but not by much. Spit lands on my knee. “Man. That’s hard.”

“Try using your tongue more. Gather the spit on the tip of your tongue. Like this.”

I watch as he gets ready again and see his tongue poke through the circle of his lips a little as he blows. His spit clears his shoes. “See?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Curling my tongue into a U shape, I draw the saliva forward. Then I open my mouth and blow through the half tube I’ve created. The stream I manage barely makes it past the toe of my shoe, but at least it doesn’t land on me.

Frankie smiles. “There you go.”

I smile too. “I did it.”

He raises his hand for a high-five. Giggling, I smack my palm against his. Then it happens. I float.

“Do you feel that?” I ask, scrambling off of the dome.

Frankie seems to know exactly what I’m talking about because he laughs and says, “I feel it. What should we call it?”

I stretch my arms out to the side and raise my face to the sky. “The float. That’s what I’m calling it.”

He makes his way to the ground and mimics my stance. “I like that. The float.” Then he starts to spin, his arms still out-stretched. “Whoa,” he says after a moment. “It’s even stronger if you go in circles.”

I do, and sure enough the float strengthens. I laugh up at the sky. “It’s so awesome.” Even though I know I’m going to end up getting sick to my stomach if I keep spinning, it feels too good to stop. 

Then I hear Frankie say, “Oops. Sorry.”

I drop my arms and freeze, looking over at him. Near him, a girl in our class named Alison holds her cheek, glaring at him. Then she runs off, yelling for Mrs. Lawson.

“Oh, crap,” Frankie says.

I watch as Alison animatedly talks to Mrs. Lawson. Alison turns and points in our direction. Mrs. Lawson focuses her gaze on us, narrowing her eyes as she storms our way.

“What happened?” I ask Frankie.

“I accidently hit Alison in the face while I was twirling.”

“Oh, crap,” I echo.

“Yeah. I’m in big trouble.”

Fear is a stone in my gut. Mrs. Lawson’s gaze is a laser beam slashing at us. She stops inches from Frankie and says, “Did you hit Alison in the face?”

Frankie looks like he might cry, but he holds it together. “It was an accident.”

“Accident or not, you injured her. She said you and Sarah were flinging your arms out and spinning around.”

I swallowed hard, and I see Frankie do the same. He’s not speechless the way I am, though. With a nod, he says, “We were just having fun. I didn’t mean to hit her.”

“But you did. You need to be more careful.” Her gaze whips to me. I swear I feel it like an actual whip across my skin. “Both of you need to be more careful.” Then she points toward the school. “You’re in time out. Both of you. Go.”

Well aware that she means for us to sit with our backs against the building so we can watch all the fun we’re no longer allowed to have, Frankie and I walk off. But as soon as we settle ourselves in the designated time-out spot, Frankie says, “the float is fun.”

I smile. “I know. It feels good to giggle and float. Do you think Mrs. Lawson ever laughs?”

“Dunno. Maybe after she drinks beer. She reminds me of my dad, and that’s the only time he laughs.”

My brow furrows. “Weird. The only time my dad laughs is after he smokes these nasty smelling cigarettes.”

“Really. What do they smell like?”

“Like a skunk. Thank goodness he only smokes them in the backyard. My mom would have a fit if he smoked them in the house.”

Copyright Beth Pontorno 2021