How I Fly Read Free Page B

I wrap the twine gently around the pendants and tuck the charms carefully into a little bundle before shoving the whole thing deep into my jeans pocket just as Mom calls up, “Ellen? You coming?”
    “On the way!”
    I turn my crutches to face the door, pausing one last time to look around my room.
    *Prays: Please. Please let Cam be in Toronto. And if he’s not in Toronto, let him finally text me to tell me that he’s okay.*

 
    Ellen
     
    “You can stand down, Patrick. He’s not here,” Laura calls out, rushing up to where Patrick and I are waiting by the entrance of the Western Ontario Arts School’s auditorium. We were told to report here after saying goodbye to whoever dropped us off. Laura takes one of Patrick’s hands and unrolls his fingers. “Unclench your fists and stop glowering at everyone. He’s absolutely not here, nor is he going to be. I’ve confirmed it two times over.”
    I guess I’ve been holding my breath ever since we came in here, because Laura’s words have released the vise grip that I didn’t know had clamped my lungs. I start taking much-needed deep breaths, and though the news brings up the usual, endless feeling of heavy sadness I get when thinking about Cam, I find I’m relaxing as waves of relief hit me.
    *He’s not here. He’s not here, and you’re okay.*
    “How do you know?” Patrick asks Laura, but his eyes don’t leave the sea of summer students standing in the various registration lines. Every time the main doors open, he flips to such high alert while checking the new faces entering the room, I think he’s going to snap.
    Laura sighs, forcing Patrick’s eyes off the door by reaching way up and grabbing his face to turn his gaze on to her. “I asked. I simply said I was looking for Camden Campbell’s dorm room because he’s on our same project. Said I needed to meet up with him to get to work. The registration guy assured me no one by the name Campbell was registered for the program. He even made a call up to the main office to be sure he was not going to be a late arrival. Okay? Not. Here. Not coming.”
    Patrick breathes his own sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good, because I really have to go to the bathroom, and I was afraid to leave her alone.” He motions to me as if I’m some sort of inanimate object.
    I punch him in the arm and act like my heart isn’t sinking like a dead weight with the additional information about Cam not coming at all. I’m actually proud my voice holds steady when I say, “Go do what you need to do, and then get your dorm assignment. From what I can tell, the lines are alphabetical by program. Boys on one side, girls on the other.”
    “Okay, but don’t wait for me. I’ve already located a line that says Foreign Exchange Students. I mean to get lost there and ask a bunch of stupid questions to all the pretty girls who are willing to pout their lips and say adorable, hopefully French things to me.”
    “Fine. Go.” Laura shrugs, staring at the exchange student line herself. “See if you can’t accidentally score one of those handsome UK boys, preferably the one who’s wearing the sexy football shirt for me or Ellen.” She points to a tall, broad-shouldered grizzly-bear-sized hottie. “Better, get him as your roommate. In your messed up, Canadian use of the English language, football means soccer in all civilized countries.”
    “Don’t even start.” Patrick shakes his head.
    Laura ignores him and goes on staring. “Lord, but that’s a Glasgow Rangers shirt. I hope he’s truly Scottish, because Ellen…you’ll swoon when you hear him talk if he’s legit.” She pushes Patrick toward the line without once taking her eyes off Mr. Sporty. “Go on then, Patrick. Make new friends, and we’ll be just fine making ours.”
    Patrick sighs and stalks away, his shoulders still set and tense—but I know that’s all because Laura’s just thrown salt on his stubborn wounded heart.
    “Poor Patrick. You’re too hard on