The First Flight

The ceiling's miles. The ceiling's sky.

There's a whole building full of air.

Wren could still go home.

The bag goes on a belt and through a flap, and that's the bag, the bag is gone. The shoes go in a tray. And then a hand says that too, please and Pocket goes in a tray, and the tray goes in a MACHINE.

Wren could still go home.

There's a tunnel with no windows. There's a seat too big. There's a belt that goes CLICK.

Wren could still go home. (probably) (technically)

And then a person Wren has never met walks up the aisle and shuts a door. Just shuts it. Turns a handle. Walks away.

And that's the last door. There isn't a next one.

It is the first place in Wren's whole life that Wren cannot leave.

Until a grown-up leans across and says the truest thing that's ever been:

"You're not holding it up. It holds itself up. Your only job is the window."

So Wren's hands let go. And nothing happens. The plane stays up. Without Wren. Wren was never doing it at all.

• It names the fear grown-ups forget. It isn't the height and it isn't the noise. A plane is the first place in a small person's life that they genuinely cannot leave, and this book says so instead of pretending flying is a treat.
• One sentence they can keep. You're not holding it up. It holds itself up. It hands a white-knuckled child permission to stop bracing, and it works on every journey after this one.
• The refrain is the story. Wren could still go home, said six times, getting less true each time, until the door shuts and it stops dead. It comes back once, at the end, in the past tense.
• Track the boarding pass. It is the only bright thing in the whole grey airport, it never gets put down, and there is a place to tape your own in the back.
• Do not close it early. Because there's another one. In a week. Going back. And Pocket has worked that out. The last page is the one that gets the grown-ups.
• Ages 4-8. Warm hand-painted illustrations on every spread.

From The Very First Time Books. Big firsts, small hands.