Эприлинн Пайк: Wings

He led her on a path that wound back and forth, seemingly without purpose. But after a few minutes, he pointed to a large tree just off the path.

“Wow,” Laurel said. “That is cool.” It was actually two trees, a fir and an alder that had sprouted close together. Their trunks had merged and twisted, resulting in what looked like a tree that grew pine needles on one side and broad leaves on the other.

“I discovered it when we moved here.”

“So…where’s your dad?” Laurel asked, sliding her back down a tree and settling into a soft pile of leaves. She pulled the pear out of her pocket.

David made a low laugh in his throat. “San Francisco. He’s a defense lawyer with a big firm.”

“Do you see him very often?” she asked.

David joined her on the ground, his knee resting gently against her thigh. She didn’t scoot away. “Every couple of months. He’s got a private jet and he flies into McNamara Field and takes me back with him for the weekend.”

“That’s cool.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t like him?”

David shrugged. “Well enough. But he’s the one who left us, and he never tried to get more time with me or anything, so I just don’t feel like a priority to him, you know?”

Laurel nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. We always have fun. It’s just — kind of weird sometimes.”

They sat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, the tranquil clearing lulling them into a relaxed state. But then they both looked up as thunder rumbled across the sky.

“I’d better take you back. It’s gonna pour soon.”

Laurel stood and brushed herself off. “Thanks for bringing me here,” she said, gesturing at the tree. “This is pretty cool.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” David said. He avoided her eyes. “But…that wasn’t really the point.”

“Oh.” Laurel felt complimented and awkward all at the same time.

“This way,” David said, his face coloring a little as he turned away.

They climbed back over the fence just as the first drops of rain began to fall. “Do you want to call your mom to come pick you up?” David asked once they were back in the kitchen.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s raining. I should walk you.”

“No, it’s fine. Really, I like walking in the rain.”

David paused for a second, then blurted, “Then can I call you? Maybe tomorrow?”

Laurel smiled. “Sure.”

“Good.” But he didn’t move from the kitchen doorway.

“Door’s that way, right?” she asked, as politely as possible.

“Yeah. It’s just, I can’t call you without your number.”

“Oh, sorry.” She pulled out a pen and scribbled her number down on a notebook beside the phone.

“Can I give you mine?”

“Sure.”

Laurel started to open her bag, but David stopped her. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Here.”

David held her hand and scrawled his number across her palm.

“This way you won’t lose it,” he said sheepishly.

“Great. Talk to you later.” She flashed him a warm grin before letting herself out into the heavy drizzle.

Once she was down the street just far enough that the house was out of sight, Laurel pushed back the hood of her jacket and lifted her face to the sky. She breathed deeply as the rain sprinkled on her cheeks and trickled down her neck. She started to stretch her arms out, then remembered the phone number. She buried her hands in her pockets and picked up her pace, smiling as the rain continued to fall softly on her head.

The phone was ringing as Laurel walked into her house. Her mom didn’t seem to be home, so Laurel ran the last few steps to catch the call before the machine picked up. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

“Oh, hey, you’re home. I was just gonna leave a message.”

“David?”

“Yeah. Hi. Sorry to call so soon,” David said, “but I was thinking that we have that bio test next week and I thought maybe you’d like to come over tomorrow and study with me.”

“Seriously?” Laurel said. “That would be awesome! I am so stressed about that test. I feel like I only know about half of the stuff.”

“Great.” He paused. “Not great that you’re stressing over it, but great that — anyway.”

Laurel grinned at his awkwardness. “What time?”

“Just whenever. I’m not doing anything tomorrow except chores for my mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call you.”

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Laurel said good-bye and hung up. She smiled as she bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

SATURDAY MORNING, LAUREL’S EYES FLUTTERED OPEN at sunrise. She didn’t mind — she was a morning person, always had been. She usually woke about an hour before her parents and it gave her a chance to take a walk by herself and enjoy the sun on her back and the wind on her cheeks before she had to go spend hours indoors at school.

After pulling on a sundress, she grabbed her mom’s old guitar from its case by the back door before slipping silently out to enjoy the crisp quiet of the early morning. Late September had chased away the bright, clear mornings and brought instead the fog that rolled off the ocean and lingered over the town until early afternoon.

She walked along a short path that snaked through her backyard. Despite the small size of the house, the lot was fairly large and Laurel’s parents had talked of possibly adding on someday. The yard had several trees that shaded the house, and Laurel had spent almost a month helping her mom plant bunches of flowers and vines all along the exterior walls.

Their house was one in a line of homes, so they had neighbors on both sides, but like many of the homes in Crescent City, their backyard ran into undeveloped forest. Laurel usually took her walks into the twisting paths of the small glen and to the creek that ran through the middle of it, parallel to the line of houses.

Today she wandered down to the creek and sat on the bank. She pushed her feet into the chilly water that was clear and cool in the mornings before the water bugs and gnats ventured out and dotted the surface, looking for bits of food.

Laurel set her guitar on her knee and began to strum a few random chords, picking out a bit of a melody after a while. It was nice to fill the space around her with music. She’d started playing three years ago when she’d found her mom’s old guitar in the attic. It was in dire need of new strings and some major tuning, but Laurel convinced her mom to get it fixed up. Her mom had told her the guitar was hers now, but Laurel still liked to think of it as her mom’s; it made it seem more romantic. Like an old heirloom.

An insect landed on her shoulder and began to walk down her back. As Laurel swatted at it her fingers touched something. She stretched her arm back a little farther and felt for it again. It was still there; a round bump, just barely big enough to feel under her skin. She craned her neck but couldn’t see anything past her shoulder. She touched it again, trying to figure out what it was. Finally she stood, frustrated, and headed back to the house in search of a mirror.

After locking the bathroom door, Laurel sat on the vanity, twisting until she could see her back in the mirror. She pulled the top of her sundress down and searched for the bump. She finally spotted it right between her shoulder blades — a tiny, raised circle that blended in with the skin around it. It was barely noticeable but definitely there. She poked it tentatively — it didn’t hurt, but poking it did provoke a sort of tingling feeling. It looked like a zit. That’s comforting , Laurel thought wryly. In a completely non-comforting way.