'Aeromancy' by Ali McGrane

Elsie

Cumulus fractus are fair weather clouds, seeded on microscopic grains of smoke, pollen or dust, condensing into droplets that coalesce into puffy white dreamscapes.

Elsie and Leo lie side-by-side on the weedy tarmac, looking skyward. They’ve run three circuits of the disused airfield, Elsie flying, Leo dogged in her tailwind. They gasp a little as they speak.

‘Sheep,’ says Leo.

‘Boring,’ says Elsie. ‘Dragon. Humongous dragon.’

‘Giant.’

‘Giant what?’

‘I dunno,’ says Leo, getting up. ‘Come on.’

Elsie’s thinking about the word airfield, a field of air, a place where air grows, armfuls to gather. Somewhere you might float.

‘How do planes fly?’

‘Thrust and lift,’ says Leo. ‘The wings force the air down and that pushes the plane up.’

He swoops away in silent glides. That’s one of the things Elsie likes about him. He doesn’t rev or stutter machine gun rounds in his throat like the other boys. She soars after him as the first heavy drops spatter the ground, releasing a metallic taint that smells like her mother on time-of-the-month days.


Leo

In the wake of a summer shower, the unstable atmosphere grows cumulus congestus. Columns of moist air expand and cool as they rise to the dew point, creating clouds as tall as they’re broad, billowing sails in the wind.

Leo’s not supposed to go anywhere near the hangar in case it collapses or something. But it’s the only shelter for miles. Sunlight beams through a hole in the roof, and Elsie spins in its circle. Everything about her is golden, the fine hairs on her arms, her bony knees, her face. Even the dark mass of her curls seems dusted with gold, and Leo can’t stop looking at her. Luckily she has her eyes closed. She’s giggling softly. Dizzy giggling. She staggers towards him.

‘Catch me,’ she says.