Launch with a Sprinkle of Cinnamon
“HOW DID YOU even think we were going to fly a hang glider to Klæbu?” Doctor Proctor asked, shaking his head. “I mean, to begin with, none of us even knows how to fly a hang glider.”
“Petter has a family-size hang glider,” said Nilly, who was hopping up and down the way he usually did whenever he thought something fun was about to happen. “And he knows how to fly it. Right, Petter?”
Petter nodded. “Sure, sure. But it only has room for four, and there are five of us.”
“Lisa and I will fit in the same sleeping bag,” Nilly said. “And Doctor Proctor is just a skinny beanpole. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of room.”
The professor looked at Petter, who shook his head sadly.
“The launch,” Petter said, and Doctor Proctor nodded.
“What?” Nilly asked. “What do you mean?”
Doctor Proctor sighed. “The launch. Taking off. It’s great that you’re such a creative thinker, Nilly, but look around. Do you see any mountains we can take off from? Well?”
Nilly looked out the window at the flat-as-a-pancake countryside surrounding the hall.
“We could just start walking to Klæbu,” the professor suggested.
“Oh, but there’s still more hot chocolate,” Petter said, his voice sounding a little helpless. “I could add a sprinkle of cinnamon on top? And we haven’t even started playing Chinese checkers.”
Doctor Proctor, Mrs. Strobe, and Lisa shook their heads, thanked Petter for the hot chocolate, buttoned up their jackets, and were about to leave when they heard Nilly’s voice exclaim, “I’ve got it!”
They turned around. Nilly was still sitting at the table, staring down into his empty hot chocolate mug.
“What’ve you got, Nilly?”
“Pour another round of hot chocolate for everyone, Petter.”
Petter lit up. “With a sprinkle of cinnamon on top?”
“Not exactly cinnamon,” Nilly said.
“What are you talking about?” Lisa asked.
“I’m talking about a launch,” Nilly said.
“ARE Y’ALL SURE this is going to work?” Petter asked. He was bending over, holding on to the control bar of the big family-size hang glider.
“No,” said Doctor Proctor, who was lying on his back. “You can still back out if you want.”
“No thanks. I’m in,” Petter said, gripping the bar harder. “I want to go to Klæbu.”
“Good,” Doctor Proctor said, raising his hot chocolate mug. “Everyone ready?”
“Ready!” called Lisa and Nilly, who had climbed into the sleeping bag on one side.
“Ready!” called Mrs. Strobe, who was lying in the sleeping bag on the other side.
“Then let’s drink,” Doctor Proctor said.
And with that they all emptied their hot chocolate mugs in one, long gulp.
“Mmm,” Petter said appreciatively. “Considering that it wasn’t cinnamon, it wasn’t bad. What did you call the powder again?”
“Doctor Proctor’s Fartonaut Powder,” the professor said, smacking his lips in satisfaction. “The essence of pear really makes a statement, don’t you think?”
“Three,” Nilly said.
“And y’all really think a powder can get us to Klæbu?”
“Well . . . ,” Doctor Proctor said.
“Two,” Nilly said. “One.”
“It’s tickling,” Petter laughed, rubbing his potbelly.
“Zero,” Nilly announced.
Then everything went white.
And after the echo of the bang had reverberated back and forth across the river a couple of times and the snow had settled again, there was nothing left in the yard in front of the hall. Just a pole with a flapping banner announcing South Trøndelag’s largest selection of hang gliders. Once again it was quiet, but if you listened carefully, you could just make out a cry from way up in the sky:
“Flabbergast me! I’m Petter! I’m the one and only Petter and a heck of a Petter I am!”
LISA STARED. THE countryside below them looked like a map slowly gliding by. It was even colder up here; she felt it on the tip of her nose. But inside the sleeping bag it was nice and warm.
And it was so quiet! Just the rustling from the large red wing, a soft creaking of the cables tightening and loosening, the ticking of the altimeter as they rose, and the nearly inaudible snoring of Nilly, who had fallen asleep beside her.
Every now and then Doctor Proctor said something to Petter and pointed at the map they’d brought from the wall in the hall. And eventually Doctor Proctor was allowed to steer, while Petter showed him how everything worked.
The sun had sunken down into the sea way out in the west, where the sky gradually changed from blue to orange to red and—at the very bottom—greenish purple. Every now and then they soared over a house with lights shining from its windows, and now and then over a road with its streetlights on, making it look like a glowworm in the gathering twilight.
It was so beautiful that Lisa could only manage to think one thing: that this world was so wonderful, they just had to save it.
An hour later it was dark out and Doctor Proctor pointed at the carpet of lights appearing out of nothing below them.
“Klæbu,” he said.
But by then Lisa was already asleep.