Life with Jeb was good. I couldn't complain. I mean, anything was better than living in a dog crate at the School, but who could really complain about sunny, sunny California? We lived in a modest house in San Diego, not too big, not too small. As it turns out, the best place to hide is in plain sight (crowded cities don't hurt either). I got to go to public school (actual school) like all the normal kids. We went to amusement parks and the beach. We had movie nights and every Sunday morning we made pancakes. All in all, life was good.

I'd spent 8 years of my life at the School before Jeb got me out. I was 16 now. That means I'd spent half of my life in a dog crate. But that was over now. If they were looking for me they hadn't found me yet. I had been scheduled to be "retired" in the middle of my 8th year, and Jeb had offered to be the one to do it. After convincing the School that I had been exterminated, he snuck me out and formally cut ties with the School. It couldn't have been easy. He risked his life for me, and I was eternally grateful.

I had a normal life now. Well, as normal as it could be with wings. Jeb had asked me if I wanted to get rid of them. At first I was furious, even at the age of 8. How could he want to take away a part of me? Eventually I realized that he just wanted to help me live a normal life untouched by the School. The life I could have lived I had they not experimented on me. However, I love my wings. There's nothing in this world better than flying. Yes, my wings make me different and weird and a freak, but they're mine and I love them.

Life had been relatively simple until one chilly day in February. I woke up early that morning, maybe 2 a.m., dying of thirst. So I trudged half asleep into the kitchen. Eyelids half closed, barely seeing anything, I jumped upon realizing there was a figure already in there. After a moment I realized it was just Jeb. I blew a sigh of relief.

"You scared me," I playfully scolded him.

He looked up, seeming awfully tired. His glasses were off and he was rubbing his temples.

"Hmm?" he said, having just realized I was there, "sorry." He gave me a tired smile.

Pulling out a chair I sat down at the table. Jeb looked older without his glasses on I noted. The few grey hairs amongst the bright red ones didn't help either. I looked at his phone lying face down on the table. He had been staring at it I realized.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my brow furrowing.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just work stuff."

Why would the software company be calling him at this time?

"Is everything okay?" I pushed on ahead.

"Everything's fine," he assured me, then after a pause, "I'm going to get some sleep." He stood from the table and replaced his glasses. He patted my head lightly, "goodnight."

"Goodnight," I echoed, looking up at him, still worried.

I sat there for a few minutes, listening to the light scuffle of his house shoes, trying to figure out what could be wrong.


As I was walking home from school the next day I spotted Jeb's car in the driveway. Okay, something was definitely up. Briskly jogging, I made my way up the front steps and into the living room. He was for sure home, the door wasn't locked. I set my backpack down by the door.

"Jeb?"

"In here," he called. It was coming from the kitchen.

I followed the sound of his voice and found him seated at the head of the kitchen table like the night before.

His hands were folded in front of him. "Please, take a seat Max," he offered.

Okayyyy. What was going on here? Last time Jeb had asked me to sit at the kitchen table he was telling me my pet goldfish, Goldie, was dead.

I whistled. Seconds later my dog, also named Goldie, (original I know) trotted to my side, her nails clicking against the tile. Phew! Well, that wasn't it. So what was it?

"Max," Jeb began, oh here we go, he was starting with my name, "I have something very serious I want to talk to you about."

I nodded.

"It's okay if you say no. I want to make sure you're okay with this before I go through with it."

"Jeb, whatever it is just tell me. You're freaking me out."

"Alright," he conceded, "how would feel about someone else moving in with us?"

I felt the corners of my mouth turn down. "Like who?" A woman? Had he met someone?

"There's a kid, he's 2% avian, just like you an-."

"What?" I burst out, jumping to my feet. "Really? Wings and everything?"

Jeb nodded still looking serious, and Goldie barked nervously at my sudden outburst.

I rubbed behind her ear before turning back to Jeb, "Where - what- how?" I sputtered out.

This was incredible! Someone else like me! Why hadn't Jeb ever told me?

Jeb rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

"I got a call from one of my former coworkers at the School. He's heard from a reliable source that the School had another bird kid transferred in from one of their other facilities." He studied my face before continuing, "he offered to help me set the kid free."

I felt the blood drain from my face and I sat on the edge of the table to steady myself. Sneaking into the School would be very dangerous.

"It's going to be dangerous," Jeb stated, mirroring my own thoughts. "I might not be able to rescue him. And if I go in, I might not be able to make it out again. But, I won't go if you don't want me to."

I wet my lips before speaking, letting his words that I knew to be true sink in.

"I . . ." I started, "I don't want you to go, and I don't want you to be in that situation, but . . . if there is a chance to save someone, I think we should try."

He beamed, looking proud. Holding his arms out he beckoned me. We didn't hug often, to Jeb's dismay, but this seemed like a hug-worthy moment. When I leaned into his embrace he rested his head on top of mine for a moment.

"You're a good girl," he told me.

I smiled, oh Jeb, so sappy. Goldie wanted in on the action. She pushed her head in between us. We both laughed.

I pulled back, "So when are you leaving?"

"Tonight," he replied, looking apologetic.

"How long will you be gone?"

"About 3 days. I'm going to leave you some money, and there's enough food in the fridge to last at least a week."

"So what do you know about this kid?"

He looked thoughtfully at the table, "he's almost 16 and for the last 2 and a half months he's been put through a very difficult . . . program."

Uh-huh. "Program." This didn't sound good.

"Program?" I inquired, "what, pray tell, is this "program""

Jeb looked at me reluctantly, "according to my old coworker, it's a program that is supposed to turn the kid into an excellent soldier. Basically, they've been brainwashing him into seeing human contact as bad. They're trying to harden him and mute his emotions. I think they're using him as a prototype. If successful, they most likely would make a whole army like him and sell them for war purposes."

What?! Jeb was inviting a violent killing machine to come live with us?

"He's not going to try and kill us is he?" I yelped.

"No!" Jeb promised, "No. I wouldn't go along with this if I thought he was already too far gone."

"So, you're going to try and reverse the brainwashing," I concluded.

He nodded, "that's the plan more or less."

"I'll help you then."

He looked at me sternly, "Max, listen to me. For the first few weeks I don't want you talking to him. I want to try and reverse the Program first."

"You don't want a homicidal maniac running around the streets of San Diego do you Jeb?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "no, Max. I don't want that."

"Well, okay then," I stated, "then I'm going to help."

Jeb still wasn't on board.

"Look, Jeb, we're the same. He has wings and . . . and I just have to help him!" I pleaded.

He took me in, in my impassioned state and saw that I wasn't going to back down.

"Alright", he caved, "but I'll be watching in case anything gets out of control, and he's going to be handcuffed. Just promise me you won't do anything to put yourself in more danger."

I didn't want to be in danger in more than he wanted me to be, "you got it."


After dinner, Jeb grabbed his bags, all packed up and ready to go. He was about to open the door when I reached out and hugged him again.

"I should leave more often," he joked, even though I know he was sad to leave me.

"I'll be okay. Just come back safe," I asked.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"The more wings, the merrier," I replied.

He smiled, almost looking teary eyed. Then he left, and I watched as his car pulled out of the driveway, not knowing if I'd ever see him again.