Unearthly

Chapter 10 Flying Lesson

I wish I could have had a fun spring break, some wild trip to Miami or even a simple road trip with my friends. But Wendy was still not talking to me (boy, could that girl ever hold a grudge!) and Angela was busy helping her mom with spring cleaning at The Pink Garter. So spring break consisted of seven fun-filled days cooped up in the house with Jeffrey, who was grounded because he’d won the Regional Wrestling Championships. Two weeks with no TV, no phone, no internet. I thought this was a bit excessive. Jeffrey was furious, Mom was cranky, and no amount of standing on the porch soaking in the sun could take away the chill inside the house.

It’s a relief to be back at school. At lunch I sit waiting for Angela to show up. I’m using a napkin to sop up the extra grease on a slice of pepperoni pizza when Wendy practically skips into the cafeteria. She gets in line for the fish and waves at the girls at the Invisibles table a little spastically. She’s wearing her I-can’t-wait-to-tell-you face. I’m guessing it involves prom.

I take a bite of soggy pizza and remind myself that I don’t want to go to prom. I’d so much rather stay home with Ben and Jerry and watch chick flicks with Mom, who needs some major R & R.

Why does this plan depress me so much?

“You’ll never guess what happened,” I pick up from Wendy as she flops down into the chair at the Invisibles table a few feet away. For a moment she meets my eyes, and I know that we both wish that we could get over our stupid fight and make up and then she’d be telling me all her exciting news.

“You got a date for prom?” asks Emma.

Wendy’s blue eyes sparkle. I wonder if a BFF victory squeal is going to be required in this situation.

“No,” she says. “Well, yes. I’m going with Jason Lovett. But that’s not my big news. I got the internship!”

“The internship,” Lindsey repeats blankly.

Of course! The internship in Montana that she’s been talking about nonstop since she found out about it! The one where all the vets graduated from Washington State.

Come on, people! And you call yourselves her friends?

“At the All West Veterinary Hospital,” she explains.

“Oh, right,” says Lindsey vaguely. “The one in Bozeman?”

“Yes,” she says, sounding a bit out of breath. “I would have killed to get that internship. Practically all of the vets graduated from Washington State, which is my dream school, as you know.”

She glances at me again. I smile faintly. She looks away.

“Congrats!” the girls at the table are all saying practically in unison.

“Thanks.” She looks genuinely happy and proud and excited for the future, even without the victory squeal.

“Wait, does this mean you’re going to be gone all summer?” Audrey asks, frowning.

“June through August.”

“That’s great,” says Emma. “Now tell us about how Jason Lovett asked you.”

I can almost hear Wendy blush.

“Actually, I asked him.”

I lean forward and rest my chin in my hands, like I’m really bored and not listening in to everything that’s going on. I’m glad for Wendy. Jason seems like a good guy, a bit on the short side, big, hopeful brown eyes, a soft tenor voice that I hope for his sake deepens as he gets older. But nice. Somebody who will treat Wendy right.

Angela finally shows up. She tosses her brown paper lunch sack down on the table in front of me and slides into a chair. Intuitively her eyes flicker over to the Invisibles table, where Wendy and her friends are still going on about how she asked Jason.

“You should make up with her,” says Angela. “She’s over it, whatever it was. What was it, anyway, that got her panties in a bunch?”

“Mostly I think it was because she was jealous of all the time I was spending with you,” I say pointedly.

“Oh well, I can’t exactly help you there. I am amazing, you know.”

I grin. “I know.”

“Oh! Speaking of me being amazing, have I got news for you.” She leans forward, her eyes still bright with mischief. “I heard that Christian and Kay were having major problems during spring break,” she whispers theatrically.

I quickly survey the cafeteria. It takes me a second, but I find Christian sitting by himself in the very back of the room. No Kay in sight. No friends. Interesting.

“What kind of problems?”

“A big screaming match in front of like a hundred people at a party kind of problems.

There’s this nasty rumor going around about Christian hooking up with a girl on the Cheyenne ski team at the State Championships.”

“And who’d start a rumor like that?”

She smiles with that annoying, knowing look in her eyes. “I told you, didn’t I? Rumor or not, it was only a matter of time. ”

That’s when Kay Patterson enters the room.

Kay is wearing a skirt that I’m pretty sure violates the school dress code, and more makeup than usual, almost raccoonlike around the eyes, her lips a deep, brazen red.

Her gaze immediately seeks out Christian. He appears to be completely absorbed by his Tater Tots, not looking up, but I can tell by his posture that he knows she’s there.

And she knows he knows it. For a moment I think she’s going to burst into tears.

Then she starts walking, and sways right up to a group of freshman/sophomore jocks in the corner. The whole cafeteria pivots to watch her. She chooses one of the guys seemingly at random and says something in a low, phone-sex-operator voice. She runs her fingers through his hair.

Then she turns and sits in Jeffrey’s lap.

I think everybody’s jaw hits the floor at approximately the same time.

This is way beyond Christian and Kay having problems. This is Kay leaning forward against Jeffrey’s chest and saying something into his ear so close that she could have licked him. His gray eyes widen slightly but he’s obviously trying to keep his cool. He doesn’t move.

I stand up.

“Excuse me for a minute,” I say politely to Angela, like I’m just going to powder my nose. But I’m seeing red. I fully intend to walk over there and use my angelic superstrength to punch Kay Patterson in her dainty turned-up nose, for a number of reasons, really, the least of which being that she’s chosen my baby brother for her twisted game and nobody better mess with my baby brother.

“Wait.” Angela grabs my arm in a steely grip. “Calm down, C. Jeffrey’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

Jeffrey looks like he’s going to swallow his Adam’s apple.

“Where’s Christian?” he croaks.

“I don’t know where Christian is,” Kay purrs as if she couldn’t care less. “Do you?”

I tear my gaze away from the new slutty version of Kay. Christian has stopped eating and is gathering up his stuff onto his tray. He stands up and walks over to the tray drop-off, turns and points a look of general disdain in Kay’s direction, then heads for the door.

Good for him, I think as he yanks the door open. It bangs shut behind him. I watch him through the window as he strides down the hall toward the main exit, his fury streaming out behind him as clearly as a trail of smoke in the air. Then he’s gone.

“Now’s your chance,” whispers Angela. “Go after him.”

I could say something to him. But what?

“He wants to be alone right now,” I say to Angela. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Coward,” she says.

I glare at her. “Don’t,” I say, suddenly so furious that it’s tough to get the words past my clenched teeth. “Call. Me. A coward.”

I shake Angela off and stalk across the cafeteria to Kay. I tap her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” I say. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kay glances up, something calculating in her eyes. She smiles.

“Do you have a problem, Pippi?”

Pippi. As in Longstocking. Laughter circulates around the lunchroom. But Mom was right. It doesn’t faze me. I’ve heard it before.

“Wow. Original. Now get off my brother, please.”

Someone grabs my arm and squeezes very gently. I glance over to see Wendy standing next to me.

“This isn’t you, Kay,” Wendy says.

Which is true. As much as I want to believe Kay is evil incarnate, as much as part of me wants to see this little display as her true colors peeking through, Kay is not that girl. This is such an obvious, pathetic front. It has that wounded animal quality of lashing out. Seeing that so clearly lessens my desire to punch her lights out.

“I know you’re upset, Kay, but—” I begin.

“You don’t know anything.” She loosens her octopus grip on Jeffrey and glowers at me with infuriated chocolate eyes. Jeffrey’s eyes say something different altogether: Don’t. You’re embarrassing me. Go away.

“Christian’s gone,” I continue. “He left. So what’s the point in drooling all over someone else’s boyfriend? You trying to ruin our appetites or what?”

If Kay looks embarrassed or uncertain, it’s only for a millisecond. She turns to Jeffrey.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks in a sugary tone.

He looks at Kay with her dangerous black-ringed eyes and then his gaze darts to Kimber, who was standing in the pizza line when this all went down. She reminds me of a Keebler elf, her white-blond hair braided and wrapped around her head like the girl on the Swiss Miss hot chocolate.

But she looks royally ticked off. Her face is pale, two hot splashes of red on her cheeks, her eyes throwing sparks.

Maybe I’m not going to be the one beating up Kay after all.

“Yeah,” says Jeffrey, his mouth turning up in the hint of a smile. “Kimber Lane. She’s my girlfriend.”

The look that passes between Jeffrey and Kimber right then feels like it requires a swell of cheesy music in the background. Aw, I think. Baby brother’s in love. I also find this kind of gross.

“All right, then,” says Kay with forced lightness. She stands up and straightens her skirt, then lifts her head and gives this forced laugh like it was all a game, and it was amusing, but now she’s bored.

“See you later,” she says to Jeffrey, and then she saunters off, orbited by her little posse the minute she’s away from us. They leave the cafeteria, and then there’s an explosion of noise as the other students all start talking at once.

Wendy lets go of my arm.

“Hey,” I say, turning to her. “I’m sorry about all that stupid stuff I said before.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want to hang out after school?”

She smiles.

“Sure,” she says. “I’d love to.”

Wendy and I hole up in my room and do our homework together, bent over our books without talking much, only looking up occasionally to smile or ask a question.

I, of course, am not thinking about my aerodynamics class and the three theories of physics that are supposed to explain lift. The class is all numbers and angles, nothing that resembles what it would be like to fly in real life, but ironically I’m good at it.

I can’t stop thinking about Christian. He was a no-show in British History.

“So, I heard you’re going to prom with Jason Lovett,” I say to Wendy, closing my book. I can’t stand being trapped inside my own head a moment longer. “Is that a big woo-hoo or what?”

“Yeah,” she says with a happy smile.

“What are you going to wear?”

She bites her lip. There is clearly a snag in the wardrobe department.

“You don’t have a dress yet?” I ask.

“I have something,” she says, trying to sound cheerful. “I wear it to church, but I think I can fancy it up a bit.”

“Oh no. No church dress.” I jump up and run to the back of my closet, where I grab two formal gowns that I wore for dances in California, then march back to Wendy. I hold the dresses out to either side of me. “Just pick the one you like.”

Wendy suddenly has trouble meeting my eyes.

“But what about you?” she stammers.

“I’m not going.”

“I can’t believe somebody hasn’t asked you yet.”

I shrug.

“Well, why don’t you ask someone? I mean, what good is women’s lib if we can’t use it to ask guys to dances? I asked Jason.”

“There’s no one I want to go with.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“I’m going to let that one slide.”

“Anyway, Jason Lovett’s going to be your Prince Charming on prom night, and you’re totally going to need a Cinderella dress. So pick one.”

She’s already eyeing the pale pink gown in my left hand with hungry eyes.

“I think it would rock on you,” I say, waving it at her.

“Really? You don’t think I’d look ridiculous?”

“Try it on.”

She snatches it out of my hand and runs into the closet to try it.

“You’re too tall,” she whines through the door.

“That’s what heels are for.”

“You have bigger boobs than I do.”

“Impossible.”

The door swings open. She stands there uncertainly, her long, golden brown hair tumbling around her neck and shoulders. The gown sags around her feet, but it’s nothing a hem won’t fix.

“You look amazing.” I rummage around in my jewelry box for the matching sparkly necklace. “We should go into Jackson tomorrow and find you some earrings. Too bad the nearest mall is all the way in Idaho Falls. Claire’s has the best prom stuff.

What is that, like two hours away?”

“Two and a half,” she answers. “But I don’t have pierced ears.”

“I think I can find a potato and a sharp needle.”

She gasps and puts her hands up to cover her earlobes.

“What did you ever do for fun before I came along?” I ask.

“Cow tipping.”

There’s a sharp knock on my door and my mom sticks her head in. Wendy instantly flushes to the roots of her hair and starts backing toward the closet door, but Mom charges right in to look at her.

“What? Dress up! How come I wasn’t invited?” she exclaims.

“Prom. Saturday after next. I told you, remember?”

“Oh yes,” she says. “And you’re not going.” She sounds disappointed.

“Did you want something, Mom?”

“Yes, I wanted to remind you that you and I have a date to practice our yoga tonight.”

It takes me a second to catch up. And freak out a little.

“Couldn’t we do it some other time? I’m kind of busy at the—”

“I know you girls are having such fun, but I have to steal you for some mother-daughter time.”

“I need to go, anyway,” mumbles Wendy. “I’ve got to finish this homework.”

“You look lovely, Wendy,” says Mom, beaming at her. “What about shoes?”

“I think my black pumps will work.”

Mom shakes her head. “No black pumps with that dress.”

“We’re going to look for earrings in Jackson tomorrow,” I offer. “We could look for shoes too.”

Wendy starts to squirm unhappily at the suggestion. There aren’t any shoe stores in Jackson that aren’t priced for tourists.

“Or,” Mom says, “we could skip Jackson and bring out the big guns. Road trip to Idaho Falls this weekend?”

I can’t tell if she’s been eavesdropping or if she and I just think on the same wavelength. “Sometimes,” I tell her with a grin, “it’s like you can read my mind.”

“Wendy doesn’t have a lot of money, you know,” I say to Mom when Wendy is safely off the property. The sun’s setting behind the mountains. I’m standing in a tank top and sweatpants in the backyard, shivering, trying to wrap a wool scarf around my neck. “So this thing in Idaho Falls for shoes, don’t go dragging us into some fancy department store. It will embarrass her.”

“I was thinking Payless,” Mom says primly. “I thought it might be nice to have some girl time. You really haven’t had much of that since we moved here.”

“Okay.”

“I also thought you could bring Angela along. Does she have a date for prom?”

I stop fiddling with the scarf and stare at her. “Yeah. She does.”

“So she can come too.”

“Why?”

“I want to know your friends, Clara. You bring Wendy to the house all the time, but you never bring Angela. So I want to meet her. I think it’s time.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I know you’re nervous about it, but you shouldn’t be,” she says. “I’ll behave.”

It’s not really Mom I’m worried about. Or maybe it is. “Okay, I’ll ask her.”

“Wonderful. Lose the scarf,” says Mom.

“It’s freezing!”

“It could snag.”

She has a point. I dump the scarf.

“Do we have to do this now? I’m taking a class in aerodynamics at school, you know.

I’m acing it, by the way.”

“That’s about flying a plane. This is about you. You need to train, Clara. I’ve let you have all winter to get adjusted. Now you need to focus on your purpose so you’ll be ready when fire season starts. It’s only a few months away.”

“I know,” I say glumly.

“Now, please.”

“Okay, fine.”

I unfold my wings behind me. It’s been a while since I’ve had them out. At least it’s gotten easier to summon them; I don’t have to say the words in Angelic anymore. I still think my wings are beautiful — soft and white and perfect as an owl’s. But at the moment they seem huge and silly, like a cheesy prop in a bad movie.

“Good, stretch them out,” says Mom.

I extend them as far as I can, until their weight begins to strain my shoulders.

“To get off the ground you must lighten yourself.” She keeps saying this and I have no clue how to do it.

“Next you’re going to sprinkle me with pixie dust and tell me to think happy thoughts,”

I grumble.

“Clear your mind.”

“Done.”

“Starting with the attitude.”

I sigh.

“Try to relax.”

I stare at her helplessly.

“Try closing your eyes,” she says. “Take deep breaths in your nose and out through your mouth. Imagine yourself becoming lighter, your bones weighing less.”

I close my eyes.

“This really is like yoga,” I say.

“You’ve got to empty yourself out, let go of all the things that mentally weigh you down.”

I try to clear my mind. Instead I see Christian’s face. Not from the vision, surrounded by fire and smoke, but a breath away like when he leaned over me on the ski slope.

His dark, thick eyelashes. His eyes with their spatters of gold. Full of warmth. The way the corners crinkle when he smiles.

My wings don’t feel as heavy then.

“That’s good, Clara,” says Mom. “Now try to lift off.”

“How?”

“Flap your wings.”

I imagine my wings catching the air the way hers did that time at Buzzards Roost. I think about shooting up into the sky like a rocket, streaking past clouds, brushing the treetops. It’d be wonderful, wouldn’t it, to soar like that? To answer the call of the sky?

Nothing so much as twitches.

“It might help if you open your eyes now,” Mom says with a laugh.

I open my eyes. Flap, I order my wings silently.

“I can’t,” I pant after a minute. I’m sweating, in spite of the chilly air.

“You’re overthinking it. Remember, your wings are like your arms. You don’t have to think at your arms to move them, you just move them.”

I glare at her. My teeth clench in frustration. Then my wings slowly flex back and forth.

“That’s it,” says Mom. “You’re doing it!”

Only I’m not doing it. My feet are still firmly planted on the ground. My wings are moving, fanning the air, blowing my hair all over my face, but I’m not lifting off.

“I’m too heavy.”

“You need to make yourself light.”

“I know!”

I try to think of Christian again, his eyes, his smile, anything tangible, but suddenly I can only picture him from the vision now, standing with his back to me. The fire coming.

What if I can’t do this? I think. What if the whole thing depends on my ability to fly?

What if he dies?

“Come on!” I scream, straining with everything I have. “Fly!”

I bend my knees, jump, and make it a few feet off the ground. For all of five seconds I think I might have done it. Then I come down hard, at an angle, twisting my ankle.

Off balance, I crash onto the lawn, a tangle of limbs and wings.

For a minute I lay there in the soggy grass, gasping for breath.

“Clara,” says Mom.

“Don’t.”

“Are you hurt?”

Yes, I’m hurt. I will my wings to vanish.

“Keep trying. You’ll get it,” Mom says.

“No, I won’t. Not today.” I get to my feet carefully and brush dirt and grass off my pants, refusing to meet her eyes.

“You’re used to everything coming easy for you. You’re going to have to work at this.”

I wish she’d stop saying that. Every time, her face gets this look like I’ve let her down, like she expected more. It makes me feel like a big fat failure, both as a human, where I’m supposed to be remarkable — beautiful, fast, strong, sure on my feet, able to do anything that’s asked of me— and as an angel. As a regular girl, I’m not proving to be anything magnificent. And as an angel, I am simply abysmal.

“Clara.” Mom moves toward me, opening her arms like we’re going to hug now and everything will be okay. “You have to try again. You can do this.”

“Stop being so soccer mom about it, okay? Just leave me alone.”

“Honey—”

“Leave me alone!” I screech. I look into her startled eyes.

“All right,” she says. She turns and walks swiftly back toward the house. The door slams. I hear Jeffrey’s voice in the kitchen, and her voice, low and patient, answering him. I rub my burning eyes. I want to run away but there’s nowhere to go. So I stand there, my neck and shoulders and ankle aching, feeling sorry for myself until the yard is dark and there’s nothing to do but limp inside.