9789127420151

Polar Fish

– a story of friendship You see a feather hanging in the air.

Soft and white. The wind blows but the feather doesn’t move. There is nothing holding it there. It just hangs – still and silver like the moon. So you reach up. You take hold of it and pull. And what happens next changes the way you see your world …

Level 1

Level 2

Level 3

Level 4

ISBN 978-91-27-42015-1

9 789127 420151

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A feather in the air Becca was seven when she first saw the feather.

It was a snow-white feather with a grey tip. It hung in the air, three metres above her. Its stem pointed straight down and its tip straight up. It was really big.

She was lying on her back, under the oak tree, at the end of the garden. The grass was dry and poked her skin through her white dress. It was a windy day. The wind blew the long grass and the wind blew Becca’s hair around her eyes. Becca looked straight up at the feather. The wind didn’t move it.

Becca looked at the feather, waiting for it to drop. Of course, she didn’t understand gravity, but she knew that the feather should fall and land next to her. It didn’t. So Becca stood up, brushed 3

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some grass from her white dress, and went inside the house to tell her mother.

Her mum was watching a quiz show on TV. ‘Mum,’ said Becca, ‘come and have a look at a strange feather in the garden.’

Her mum didn’t turn round. ‘I’m watching my show Rebecca. Can you wait ten minutes?’

So Becca went back outside. The feather was still there. Hanging in the air. Not moving.

Ten minutes later, Becca went inside again.

Her mum was making a cup of tea in the kitchen.

‘Mum, you said you’d come out and look at the feather after your show.’

Her mum sighed and put down her teacup.

‘If I must,’ she said and followed Becca outside.

The feather was gone. And it wasn’t on the grass.

‘It was up there,’ said Becca, next to the tree.

‘Really?’ said her mum. ‘A feather next to a tree.

Amazing. Now can I go back inside?’

‘But it wasn’t moving,’ said Becca.

‘Really?’ said her mum. ‘Not moving. Fantastic.

Right, time for my cup of tea.’

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And Becca’s mum went back inside.

Becca lay back down on the grass and watched the space where the feather had been for a few minutes. It didn’t come back.

• When Becca was twelve she saw the feather again.

It had just started to rain, so Becca ran outside to pick up some of her stuff that she didn’t want to get wet. She looked up to watch a bird flying to the oak tree and there it was. Hanging. Still.

At that moment, she remembered seeing the feather before. Now she was twelve, Becca knew a bit more about life. She knew that anything floating in air must be connected to something, or be as light as one of the bubbles you make with washing up liquid. But the feather was big, maybe forty centimetres or so, and she couldn’t see a spider’s web or anything that might be holding it up. She dropped her stuff and ran inside.

Her mum wasn’t watching TV or in the kitchen.

Becca stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted up. ‘Mum! Are you up there?’

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‘I’m getting changed for work!’ her mum yelled back. Becca’s mum was a bingo caller.

‘Come and look at a weird feather in the garden.’

Her mum poked her head from the bedroom door. ‘What is it with you and feathers?’ She was wearing a bath towel.

‘You’ve got to be quick,’ said Becca. ‘I don’t want the feather to go away before you can see it.’

Her mum rolled her eyes. ‘Rebecca, I am getting ready for work. If you want me to see this feather why don’t you bring it up here?’

Becca gave up. She ran outside again. The feather was still there. The rain was falling on it but not pushing it down. The drops just rolled down the white stem or bounced off.

Becca had an idea and ran into the kitchen. Her mum’s phone was there. She grabbed it and ran out and then spent a minute or two trying to work out how to get the camera function working. Then she had to work out how to zoom in. It was a touch screen phone, so she just slid her fingers along until the feather filled the screen.

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Click. She had the feather’s picture.

As she was looking at the picture she heard a faint popping sound. She looked up and the feather was gone. She got to her hands and knees and looked on the ground. It wasn’t there. She went back inside to wait for her mum to finish dressing.

When her mum came downstairs in her bingo caller’s suit, she looked at Becca’s knees and took in a big breath. Becca was covered in mud.

‘What on earth do you think you are doing?

Look at my floor! You’ve walked mud everywhere!’

Becca looked at the floor. In her excitement about the feather, she had forgotten to take off her muddy shoes and had made the kitchen very brown.

‘I’ll clean it,’ she said.

‘Too right you will! I’ll be back in three hours from my shift and I want this place and you, clean.’

‘OK, OK. But look at this.’ Becca held out the phone. Her mum took it.

‘I told you not to touch my phone. You’ll only break it.’

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‘It’s not broken. Just look at the picture I took.’

Her mum looked. ‘Yes dear. Very pretty.

A feather. Now can I go to work?’

‘But you don’t understand. Look, it’s totally still.’

Her mum looked at her silently for a minute and then said slowly. ‘Yes darling. It is still. This isn’t a video, it’s a picture. Do you see?’

Becca gave up again.

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Polar Fish

– a story of friendship You see a feather hanging in the air.

Soft and white. The wind blows but the feather doesn’t move. There is nothing holding it there. It just hangs – still and silver like the moon. So you reach up. You take hold of it and pull. And what happens next changes the way you see your world …

Level 1

Level 2

Level 3

Level 4

ISBN 978-91-27-42015-1

9 789127 420151

still_feather.indd 1

Andy Coombs 10-06-09 13.53.22