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    Wylde Wings
    Wylde Wings
    Wylde Wings
    Ebook212 pages1 hour

    Wylde Wings

    By Kate Ristau and Brian W Parker

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A lighthearted, rambunctious fantasy adventure... -Kirkus Reviews

    Before she died, Gwyn's mom told him he would fly. He wants to believe, but he knows it's stupid. All those myths aren't really true. People don't have wings.

    Until, one day, he does.

    Wylde Wings is the story of how Gwyn Wylde ge

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHope Well Books
    Release dateMar 1, 2022
    ISBN9781737087922
    Wylde Wings
    Author

    Kate Ristau

    Kate Ristau is an author, folklorist, and the Executive Director of Willamette Writers. She is the author of three middle grade series, Clockbreakers, Mythwakers, and Wylde Wings, and the young adult series, Shadow Girl. You can read her essays in The New York Times and The Washington Post. In her ideal world, magic and myth combine to create memorable stories with unforgettable characters. Until she finds that world, she'll live in a house in Oregon, where they found a sword behind the water heater and fairies in the backyard. Find her online at kateristau.com.

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      Book preview

      Wylde Wings - Kate Ristau

      Wylde Wings

      Wylde Wings

      Kate Ristau

      Illustrated by

      Brian W. Parker

      Hope Well Books

      Cover design: Brian W. Parker

      Interior design: Kate Ristau

      Back cover design: Lee Moyer

      Back cover photo: Rowan Ristau

      Design support: Gigi Little

      Sensitivity read: Viveca Shearin

      Copyright © 2022 by Hope Well Books

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or recollections. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental or used fictitiously.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      Chapter 29

      Chapter 30

      Chapter 31

      Acknowledgments

      About the Author

      About the Illustrator

      A Note About the Text

      For Rowan, who asked for the story of a boy with wings, and for Victor, who can’t wait to fly.

      Special thanks to Mrs. Anderson’s English classes at Geneseo Middle School and Mrs. Stanfill’s publishing class at Portland State University. This book shines because of all of you.

      Write on, Wylde Ones!

      Prologue

      There once was a town on the other side of the mountain. It never did have a name, for it never needed one. The people there were happy, and life was easy. That little town was all they knew, and all they needed to know. They didn’t dream higher than the mountain or swim far out to sea. They held their secrets close, and they kept their children in the light.

      And for as long as they could remember, they flew.

      Every twelve-year-old child, on the day they earned their name, was so filled with the spark that their wings would pop out, bursting through their fragile skin and into the morning light.

      When the darkness came, and took their wings, they sent one small spark of light across the ocean. They hoped, they dreamed, that one day, the spark would return to them when they called.

      Why Stories Are StupidJournal 1

      1

      The energy of an isolated system is constant, Mr. Wylde explained for the 800 th time. It doesn’t change.

      And that’s why we’re headed to OMSI today, Mrs. Klein added in.

      We’re going to see thermodynamics in action, Mr. Wylde continued. His eyes were glowing with excitement behind the giant plastic frames of his glasses, and the bright fluorescent light shined off his dark skin as he paced the front of the room.

      I closed my notebook, crossed my arms, and laid my head down on my pile of books. This was going to take a while. He was clearly just getting started.

      There’s research from eight of the founding schools of thermodynamics, Mr. Wylde said. École, Glasgow, all the way through to the Dutch school. They even have Joseph Black’s original notes on latent heat. It will be—

      It will be mesmerizing, Klein said. I’m sure. But you’ll also see the new T-Rex, and the Dr. Who exhibit—

      Yes! Jules said, and the entire class laughed. She turned bright red and scooted deep into her seat, her red hair dangling in front of her face. She pulled out her pen, shifted her notebook with her prosthetic hand, and then she was gone. A forest of squares and blotted ink crossed the top of her notebook page.

      I waved my hand at her, but she wouldn’t look up from her desk. She gets so embarrassed, so worried about what people think. Who cares? They suck. And she’s awesome.

      I pushed up my glasses, opened my own notebook back up, and started to draw her a tiger. One of those anime ones. She’d like it. She was all worried for nothing – no one was paying attention to her anyway. Tapping fingers. Itching arms. Shaking legs. We were all ready to get out the door and onto the bus.

      Especially me.

      I can’t stand science class. Mr. Wylde is so boring. I drew the large eyes of the tiger. He’s always droning on about latent heat and thermodynamics. I sketched its giant teeth. We’re in seventh grade! I shaded in its nose. We’re not in college! I added pointy ears. We’re supposed to be learning about volcanoes, geology, and worms. I gave the tiger huge paws. Instead, he’s talking about energy – protons and neutrons. I crosshatched stripes across its flank. We never get to do anything cool and real like earth science or breeding fruit flies or dissecting frogs. I wrote Hey Jules on the top. It’s all stuff that’s not real and doesn’t even matter.

      He knocked on his desk to get our attention. Don’t forget to grab your lab notebooks!

      Ugh. This class is terrible and Mr. Wylde is so boring and dumb and…oh yeah…he’s my dad.

      I folded up the paper and passed it to Jules. She lifted her head, snatched the sheet, opened it up, and smiled. She tucked it into her pocket.

      Line up! Mrs. Klein said.

      Yes! Jules yelled. This time, she didn’t blush. She shoved her notebook into her bag and jumped to her feet.

      Jaiden pushed up the aisle and made his way over to us. He was tying his long dark hair up on top of his head. This is gonna be awesome. Do you think we’ll get to ride the T-Rex?

      Shut-up, Jules said. They don’t let you ride the—

      It was a joke, Jaiden said.

      You’re a joke, I said, knocking his hands away before he got the rubber band in.

      Burn! Jules yelled.

      Jaiden screamed like he was on fire, and started patting his hair. Fuego! he yelled. It hurts! Put it out!

      Shh, Mikka said. We ignored her, laughing and walking out the door toward the bus. It was going to be a good day. A GREAT day. I could feel it. Everybody was bouncing and skipping down the hall. We never get to go on field trips. Not at our school. Washington Middle is a school with a low-income population. That’s a fancy term for a school full of poor kids. Half the school is from Section 8. That’s an even fancier term for Government Assistance Housing. The way I figure it, in my neighborhood, you’re either at a low-income school, or you’re at a fancy-pants private school.

      At private school in Portland, every day is fancy. They have variety in their cafeteria. Do you want pasta or pizza? A hamburger or a sandwich? Hot chocolate with whipped cream or marshmallows?

      That’s nothing like Washington. We get whatever they plop onto our plates, and we don’t get any choices. The teachers are trying, but the security guards are all watching us like hawks. Checking bags and dumping books. So uncool. They don’t want you going home with more than you came in with. Just a good education, not all the paperclips. It’s a good idea, but it doesn’t work. Someone stole our pencil sharpener last week. Now, we have to walk to Mr. Arndt’s room to sharpen pencils.

      Dad wrote some grant to get us on this trip. It was a big deal. T-shirts and everything. He even got us bottles of water with bright blue labels.

      Jaiden knocked my shoulder. Cool t-shirt, bro.

      Yours is awesome.

      Thanks, I said, puffing out my chest.

      It really wasn’t, but Jaiden and I looked a lot alike in our bright yellow field trip shirts. Same height. Same weight. Except Jaiden had that long dark hair, and you could see his mom in his features. His skin is a lot darker than mine. My mom was from Wales. I guess I’m somewhere in-between my mom and dad.

      Jaiden snapped me with his rubber band. Dare you to ride the T-Rex, he said.

      I grabbed for his rubber band, but he ripped it away. What do I win? I asked instead.

      My undying love.

      How about tacos?

      How many?

      Jaiden smiled. Five.

      Deal.

      Deal? Jules asked. Really Gwyn? You’d actually ride the T-Rex? You’d get yourself in that much trouble for five tacos?

      He’s not Gwyn, Jaiden said, holding the door open for us with a bow. He’s Wylde! Wa-hoooo! This field trip is gonna rule!

      Jaiden ran down the hall.

      Slow down! Mr. Riker said. Jaiden saluted him as he sailed by. Por supuesto.

      Riker rolled his eyes and turned to glare at me and Jules. I think he’s hired to look mad at us. Before he could start anything again, we were out the door and in the parking lot.

      Jaiden spun and jumped onto the bus, nearly colliding with Mrs. Klein. She just smiled, shaking her head and checking him off on her clipboard. She nodded at Jules, the corners of her eyes crinkling, but her brow furrowed the moment she caught my eye.

      You doing okay?

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