'COAT FLYING'
by Marc Barber

Carlos talked about it all morning: coat flying. �Wait until play time,� he said, �then you�ll see.�

I coloured in my drawing of a bomber plane. Miss Bax was coming to our table.

Carlos looked at what I was doing. �Don�t use black,� he said.

�Why not?�

�Black means it�s burnt out. Use yellow.�

�I�ve started using black.�

�Doesn�t matter.�

�Black�s cool.�

�Yellow�s cooler.�

I took the pencil and started colouring over the black. Miss Bax came to our table, looked at my drawing and walked me to my tray which had my stuff and she made me take out a colour chart. �What do yellow and black make?� she said.

I shrugged.

�What do they make?�

�I don�t know.�

�They make nothing.�

�Sorry, miss.�

�Don�t mix them.�

I told her I wouldn�t. She made me turn the paper round and restart from the beginning on the clean side. Carlos helped me. I used orange and yellow pencils. We called the bomber Firebird. Miss Bax said it was great. I liked it when she praised what I had done. But I made sure Carlos took credit too. He had been right. Yellow was better.

Carlos was the friend who made school okay for me. I imitated Carlos� walk. He bounced every other step. I bounced too. I switched from eating sugar coated cola bottle sweets to plain ones. I bought frozen drinks, jubblies, instead of buying fizzy drinks.

I would�ve grown my hair but mum wouldn�t let me. She had always wanted to be a hairdresser. She wasn�t a hairdresser but this didn�t stop her cutting my hair. Frank and Marcia and Toby from my class cussed me for having a �basin� haircut.

Carlos had the longest hair of any kid I had seen. Every week Miss Bax told Carlos to get a haircut. She made Carlos take a letter home to his mum. In school the following day his hair was still down to his shoulders. I asked him what his mum had done about the letter. Carlos said, �She asked me if I wanted a haircut.�

�Right, what did you tell her?�

�I told her I didn�t.�

The bell rang. Miss Bax ordered us to walk, not run. �Coat flying time,� said Carlos, making a gun with his fingers, shooting Marcia in the back. The two of us got our jackets and bounced into the playground.

We went to our corner, away from the ones who loved fighting. I wanted Carlos to tell me about where he was from, El Salvador. Kids in my school were from countries I never heard of. Uganda. Rhodesia. Vietnam. Cambodia. I liked the name of where Carlos was from, El Salvador. It sounded cool. Like a western starring John Wayne.

He raised his hand for me to stop talking, then opened his palm, spreading his fingers, hair blowing wildly about his head. �Excellent,� he said. �It�s still windy.�

Some girls from another class walked by and made comments about Carlos. He took no notice. He never did. My mum said Carlos was teased because he was a handsome young man.

�We�re going to fly today.�

�Yeah�right.�

�I�ll go on my own. I don�t mind. You can stay at school if you like, but me, I know where I�m going,� he said, pointing upwards at the blank grey sky.

�You can�t fly.�

�Take off your coat.�

�It�s too cold.�

�Please yourself,� he said, removing his jacket.

I paused and then took off my jacket.

�Right, this is what we do.�

I looked at the girls who had teased Carlos.

�You listening? I�ll do this myself. You don�t know how much I�ve been practicing. I have this all worked out. Every last part. It can�t fail. You can come with me up into the sky or you can watch me from the ground, staying here on your own with him,� said Carlos, nodding in the direction of Frank, who picked on you for no reason other than he saw you walking by. Frank broke a HB pencil in class last week. Miss Bax made us sit cross legged on the carpet. In each hand, she held both halves of the pencil up for us to see. Frank stood next to her, looking at his feet while she said, �This disruptive boy also has no respect for school property.�

Frank was always in trouble

�Go on, Carlos, I�m listening,� I said.

�Good. When I give the word, when I say "go", we start running, and then you have to wait until I say �now� and then you have to be quick. You use both hands, so you�re gripping both sides of the coat, and you raise the coat above your head like your dad does when he�s holding a newspaper and he doesn�t want the rain on his head.�

�I don�t get it,� I said.

�Have you used your ears?�

�Yes.�

�Then how can you not get it?�

�I just don�t.�

�What is there not to get?�

�Can you show me?�

He sighed. He took either side of the zipper and lifted the limp coat above his head. �Like this,� he said.

I copied him.

'You got it,' he said.

My doubts must�ve shown.

He said, �Leave me to do it by myself. You�re putting me off.�

�I�m not doing anything.�

He walked forward. Holding the coat, bunched in one hand. I went and stood next to him.

�You ready?� he said.

�One question.�

�What?�

�If we do fly�.�

�There is no if. Just go��

�I mean when we do fly, where are we going?�

He didn�t know what to say.

�Where?� I said.

�Home,� he replied.

�But that�s just�.�

�No, my home. Where I�m from.�

�Salvador?�

�Yes,� he said.

I was unsettled. Then excited. �Salvador,� I said.

�Salvador,� he said and he started running.

�Hey,� I said, annoyed by his head start.

He let me catch up. We were sprinting. Weaving in and out of the kids in the playground. Passing Marcia and Frank and the helper who also teased Carlos' hair. The wind was strong and running against it stretched your muscles. I could feel my lungs breathing and hear my trainers smacking against the tarmac. I kept glancing at Carlos. �WHEN?� I shouted. �KEEP GOING,� he replied, jumping over a rope girls were twirling for skipping, interrupting their song. The wire fence of the playground was getting nearer. I was running as fast as I could. The wind pushed against me. I saw Carlos bring the coat across for his other hand to grab. I did likewise. I knew this was it. �NOW,� he shouted. I pulled apart the coat and raised it above my head and I jumped up. The wind rushed up into the coat, making it swell and bulge and snap hard with air like a parachute. My arms tightened. Hands gripped the material and I felt myself rising, floating, the wind in my mouth, against my teeth, carried upwards and I heard Carlos yelling, �YEESSSSS.�

He looked over and I laughed. We were back on the floor, kneeling. �Did you feel it?� he said, �did you feel it lift you up?�

�Oh man,� I said.

The bell rang for the end of play time. We hadn�t made it to Salvador, that was true, but we both knew the wind had caught hold of us and carried us through the air and ever so briefly, we were sure, our feet had been off the ground for longer than if we had simply ran and jumped.

I had to go to the dentist in the afternoon. I was desperate to get to school to try coat flying the following day.

So I was surprised by Carlos' reaction.

�No,� he said.

�But we can do it.�

�No,� he said.

I put my coat back on. It didn't occur to me then to try by myself.

When I did try, I understood what made Carlos say no.

Unlike me, he knew it was a one off.

� Marc Barber
Reproduced with permission

---

Your first name:	Your URL:
Use the box below to leave messages for Marc. Begin Message: For Marc Barber