***
Since I wasn’t as a strong a flyer as the boys, the flight took closer to three hours. It blew my mind that a dragon or damsel at top speed could reach four hundred miles per hour. Mack had tried to explain the math behind it at one of our rest stops. Something about how a dragonfly, which is only a couple of inches long, can fly up to fifty or sixty miles per hour. He then had gone into the metaphysics of it all, completely losing me. All I took away from it was since we are between five and six feet tall on average, we can go that much faster.
We made our last pit stop in Santa Barbara and since I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d be left wearing if I morphed back—the blue dress had come out of nowhere—Blake bought us some sandwiches at a deli, and we ate in a park back in the trees, out of sight. Being anxious to get to the island, I gobbled my food and then was left to watch the boys finish theirs. They seemed relaxed, chatting about island stuff, but I couldn’t focus.
“Ready for this?” Blake asked, his hand wrapping around mine.
My stomach clenched. “Yup, no turning back now.” I hoped I sounded better than I felt. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I know anyone there. I knew the answer. Because everyone knows Blake. And knows I’m the girl he obsessed over for so long. What if I do something to embarrass him?
Blake and Mack both slung their bags around their shoulders, and I realized why they both preferred to carry satchels. It hung at their sides, the strap resting above their wings. Seeing Blake tug my bag up over his other shoulder, I felt sort of guilty. It looked so cumbersome. I’d carried the dang thing for at least forty minutes before I practically begged Blake to take it.
We all camo’ed out and soon the beach of Santa Barbara fell behind us. The salty sea air clung to my skin while the swelling beast of water rolled below us. The further out we got, the stiller the waters became with fewer breaking waves. As we flew mile after mile, I sensed Blake’s mood change. He shifted to be nearer to me, and then his hand clutched mine.
“Remember, Sam, some of the islanders have different opinions. Just ignore them if they aren’t uh… nice to you okay?” he said, his lips finding my ear.
Great. Just great. I’m already nervous enough. I wanted to see Blake’s face, to know how serious he was, but all I got was his sky-blue outline.