"Hi," I said, "I'm Bridger Donovan." I gave a smile even though he couldn't see it. "Call me Bridger, if you would. You could say I'm a therapist, teacher, etcetera."

"I'm Iggy." He relented, "I'm blind." He sardonically said.

"I understand." I was used to reactions like this, "That's why I'm going to help you."

Without forewarning, he reached out and touched my face with his hands. Iggy felt my cheek bones, ears, eyes, and nose. He traced his index finger across my forehead. His palms rested on my freckled-sprayed cheeks, his fingers lightly swept my hair.

He grinned, "Your skin is honey colored, and your hair is brown and curly. You have sharp cheek bones and ears that stick out, and your nose comes to a hook."

I raised an eyebrow, "Impressive. My eyes are also brown. I'm Jewish. From when I was in kindergarten, I went to a private Baptist school until the end of sixth grade. In seventh grade, my mom homeschooled me. My mom took me out of the Baptist school because everyone would always call me the Jewish chick or scream 'Jew!' and make Hitler jokes." I took a break to scratch my leg, "After seventh grade, Mom realized she couldn't handle being a teacher, that's when I started public schooling."

I was nervous; I've never told anyone that. Iggy seemed as to say 'Well that's that, it's not your fault'. "So, you must be… fourteen?"

"Ah, fifteen actually."

Iggy shrugged, "You make yourself sound younger."

"Yeah, I have a child's voice." I smiled.

And somehow, although he couldn't see mine, he smiled back.

"Okay," I said, "now that you see the white wall, I'm going to throw something across and you'll tell me if you see it. If you see it, you'll tell me what color it is."

I tossed a vase to Gasman—who I just met and asked to be my assistant a few moments earlier. Gazzy caught it with ease.

Iggy smiled, "Its green! I see it, its green!" He ran up to me and embraced me in a bear hug, "I've never actually seen a real non-white color since I've been blind. Thank you!" Gazzy walked out after muttering something about being mushy.

"You're welcome, Iggy." I hugged him back. I took Iggy's hand and put it to my mouth so he could feel my smile. He began to trace the outline of my mouth; he ran his pointer finger down my lips. He gently pulled my bottom lip and placed his other hand on my neck.

Somehow he found my eyes with his blind ones. He put his pointy nose to mine. I wondered if he had my whole face mapped out because he was spot-on where my nose and eyes were. He began to breathe slowly. His breath was hot against my skin.

Iggy removed his hands and skimmed them down the sides of my body until he found my waist. He wrapped his arms in a loose circle around my waist. He rested his forehead on mine.

I knew at this moment that I wanted to be more than just his teacher. I knew at this moment that I wanted him to kiss me. At this moment, I knew I wanted him to love me; because I loved him.

"Oh, my God." A girl's voice exclaimed.

Iggy and I jumped and turned to look at the girl.

"Someone get a camera, Iggy's gonna get his first kiss." She grinned.

Iggy blushed, "Shut up, Max." He mumbled his face toward the ground.

Max smirked, "Chill Iggy." Max turned to me, "So you're Bridger?" She didn't wait for an answer, "You are Bridger Donovan, the girl who is going to help our little Ig. You also seem to be sweeping him off his feet."

I felt my face get hot; I looked down at my feet and rocked back on my heels. I remained silent.

"Just don't hurt him. Don't break his heart." She wasn't being threatening, she was being sincere; she cared about Iggy. "He's pretty sensitive." She grinned.

"Max!" Iggy shouted.

"Just saying." She said.

"I think, I'm going to get ready for bed." I said quickly, and scurried out of there into the guest room I was to stay in.

I stepped into the neutral colored room and threw my suitcase on the bed. I grabbed my pair of gray Soffe shorts and a dark blue tank top. I quickly changed and brushed out my curls. I took my hair and put it in a loose bun.

I heard a 'tap-tap-tap' on the door. "Come in." I said.

Iggy came in, "Hey."

"Hey." I replied.

"Sorry about Max," He apologized, "She can be a little… overbearing."

I smiled, "Don't worry about it, its fine."

Iggy somehow found the edge of the bed and sat down. "She's cool once you get to know her. She acts as our mother though, she is very protective. Then again, it's always good to be cautious when you're a genetically enhanced bird kid."

"Uhm, a what?"

Iggy gave a dry chuckle, "You have no idea what you're getting into, do you?"

"Apparently not." I smiled.

Iggy took off his shirt, and relaxed his muscles. He released something from his back, it looked like… Oh, my God! They were wings! White, snowy perfection.

"Oh, my God." I whispered; I reached out to touch one. It was soft and pillowy. I fingered the feathers gently and wondered how this happened to him.

"Yeah, I'm a freak." He said smiling. I stayed silent, in awe. "This is when you're supposed to disagree with me and say, 'oh no, you're not, Iggy'." He joked.

"Well, Iggy." I began, "You have wings, I'm not going to argue with you on that one."

He laughed. "Good point."

I sat next to him on the brown comforter, "Tell me about yourself." I insisted.

Iggy pulled his wings back in, put his shirt back on, and sighed, "Well, when I was a baby, I was genetically enhanced with two percent avian DNA. Actually, all of us in this house were. Tests were run on us. That is, until one of the scientists, Jeb helped us escape. Jeb acted as a father to us, but then he left. We've been on the run for awhile now."

I took that all in, "So, what about your parents?"

"We found mine awhile back. Once they saw I had wings, they wanted to sell my story. So, I left and came back to the flock."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I apologized, "I shouldn't have asked that. It wasn't my business." I took his hand in mine to express my sincerity.

"It's not like it's your fault." Iggy replied. "Besides, now I get to ask you a question." He took a breath, contemplating what query to ask. "What's the most tragic thing that's ever happened to you?"

I groaned on the inside, I was hoping he wouldn't ask this question. "My dad, Paul, used to abuse me." I took a shaky breath, "My mom loved me more than anything, and she took much of the abuse for me. She tried calling the police, but whenever she tried, he found her and took it out on me, Paul knew how much it would hurt her to beat me." I drew in another quivering lungful of air, "This went on for eight years, until the cops finally got called. Child services took Paul away, and my mom has never dated another man since."

I couldn't believe I was telling him this, I've only told one person this: Danni, my best friend. "My name wasn't always Bridger Donovan. It had to be changed for safety purposes. It used to be Claire Andrea McCrery; my mom's used to be Katie May." I felt comfortable telling Iggy this, though. He listened and it felt right.

Iggy pulled me into an unexpected hug. He was warm and comforting—just what I needed. Every time I thought of what happened, I shut down. I felt a single tear roll down my cheek and quickly wiped it away before it got on Iggy's shirt. That didn't stop them from coming.

My breathing started to get out of control. I began to hyperventilate. Tears began streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks, wetting Iggy's shirt.

Iggy pulled me closer to him and I burrowed my face deeper into his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he lifted me up unto his lap. I tried to control myself, but couldn't.

I attempted to choke back the tears; but that made them come stronger. I was convulsing with the sobs coming from my body. Iggy was very comforting through all of this. He held me as I cried uncontrollably. He didn't try to get me to stop; he didn't tell me it was okay, that everything was fine. He held me wordlessly, letting me go on.

Soon I ran out of tears. I looked up at him, my eyes puffy and no doubt red. I tried to thank him for being so understanding, but nothing came out. My voice was a scratchy irritating buzz. The back of my throat burned.

Iggy seemed to know what I meant to say. He kissed the top of my head, "No problem, Bridge."

I wrapped my arms around Iggy's neck and rested my chin on his shoulder. "Thank you, so much."

He laid me down on the bed and squeezed my hand before he left. I dug my green iPod nano out of my bag, turned it on, and burrowed under the warm fluffy covers.

Only one minute of Creep by Radiohead went by—with my eyes half closed—until I was interrupted.

"Bridger!" My eyes shot open.

I looked straight into a pair of bright blue eyes. "Gazzy," I sighed, "What do you want? You scared me." I tousled his blonde hair and smiled at him. "Didn't you already go to bed?"

"I just wanted to tell you goodnight." He said innocently. "I went to sleep, but I had a nightmare. I would go to Max, but she kicks in her sleep. Plus she snores." He looked up at me with his big eyes.

"You can stay in here with me if you want tonight, Gazzy," I offered.

He pulled me into a big hug, "Thanks Bridger."

"No problem, Gaz. Sleep Tight."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite."

And after all the crying I did earlier, I couldn't help but smile.