7

It had been a week. An entire week since the Flock had found me. My wing had been completely healed two days after I'd taken residence in Nudge's room.

The topic of recent discussion was whether or not I would stay with them.

We were seated around the cluttered dining room table. Everyone else was arguing heatedly while I sat quietly between Nudge and the Gasman.

"Of course she's staying!" Max shouted, standing and slamming a fist down on the table. "She's one of us! We can't just throw her out on her own!"

"She's a danger to the Flock," Fang stated calmly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest the only indication of his aggravation. The Flock was what they called themselves. Witty, I supposed. "Her scent is still left out in the woods where she crash-landed. The whitecoats and erasers will be after her. She can't stay here."

"They're after us, too," Angel pointed out. "They're going to find us eventually, anyway. They always do."

"What if she's a spy?" Iggy wondered aloud, glancing subtly at me. Nobody else seemed to remember that I was even there. I kind of got the impression that he only brought up the spy thing for the hell of it.

Angel sent him a confused look. "She's not."

He shrugged. "Just an idea. It's not like they haven't tried it before."

The Gasman erupted into laughter, and everyone else chuckled a little bit, too, but I remained silent, left out of some humorous memory. Part of me knew I didn't belong here.

"I think she should stay," Nudge put in. "She's one of us. And besides, she's the only one who hasn't said "shut up" to me yet."

Iggy chuckled. "Yeah, the Nudge Network. Give it time, Nudge. She'll come around soon enough." She shrugged.

"For what it's worth," Total piped up from his spot in Angel's lap, "I like her. She makes me my own serving of bacon every morning, which is more than I can say for the rest of you." He glared pointedly around the room, his expression lightening as it landed on me.

Max sighed and shook her head, finally looking to Angel. "What do you say, Ange? Yay or nay?"

"Yay," she said, not missing a beat. A chorus of yays spread around the room.

"Nay."

All eyes swiveled to Fang, to whom the only negative vote belonged. I looked to Max, who everyone seemed to have silently voted to be leader years ago. She was glaring at Fang, eyes narrowed into slits in frustration.

"Majority points to yay. She's staying," she grit through her teeth. I could see the anger frothing just beneath the surface of her eyes, barely concealed. "May I speak to you privately, Fang?" Without waiting for a reply, she stomped out of the room and up the stairs. Fang trailed quietly behind her. A few moments later, a door slammed.

"Let the yelling begin," Iggy muttered, pushing back his chair to stand. He scrubbed a hand through his hair wearily. "I'm going outside if anybody needs me."

Everybody eventually dispersed, but I stayed sitting at the table for a few moments before sighing and sliding out the back door to fly up to the roof.

From the roof, it seemed one could see forever. The trees stretched on for miles and miles, and behind me the mountains continued on. The sky was clear today; the entirety of everything around me seemed much too happy for there to be such arguing beneath me, and such sadness spreading through my soul. Once again, I was mourning the loss of my family.

I trudged wearily to the chimney and turned my back to it, leaning heavily on the weather-worn bricks. Feeling despairing, frustrated tears rise in my eyes, I slid down and pulled my knees into my chest, burying my face in my arms as I began to rack with tears.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, though I'm sure that it was by far the longest I'd cried in my entire life. After what could have been minutes yet what could have been hours, footsteps announced the arrival of another Flock member. I didn't look up to see who it was, just tried to slow the tears, quiet the sobs. The footsteps ceased right beside me, and there was a muffled thump as someone sat next to me. My face remained hidden.

There was a sigh, and then strong arms pulled me to the person's chest in what I supposed was a comforting hug. I buried my face in their shirt and cried harder, leaving whatever quiet I'd built behind.

Whoever it was, they didn't say anything. I appreciated that; words, at this moment, seemed wrong, as if they would cut the atmosphere unevenly and leave empty the space that silence should be filling.

After a long time, the sobs subsided to whimpering, and whimpering to sniffles, and, eventually, the sniffles faded to silence. Sitting for several minutes with my tear-stained face buried in the mystery-person's chest eventually began to feel awkward, and I pulled away, wiping at my eyes and sniffing one last time. I looked up at them, and my eyes widened in surprise.

Iggy?

The corners of his lips twitched up, as if he could feel my surprise, as if it had been made tangible in the air.

"You must be really miserable. The case was adjourned three hours ago; I found you exactly two hours and forty minutes later. And I suspect you've been crying most of that time."

Three hours? It's been a little longer than I thought.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper to prevent it from cracking.

"Stupid question," he said, waving his hand dismissively, but he answered it anyway. "The Flock doesn't cry that easy. I suspect you'll get over whatever's been bugging you soon enough. For what it's worth, if it's Fang, ignore him. He's a jackass."

"I don't care what he thinks," I muttered, wiping the last traces of tears from my eyes. "Guys like him always creeped me out, anyways."

Iggy laughed. "Why don't you come inside with me? You can help me cook dinner. How does Japanese stir-fry sound?"

I was about to comment on the fact that he's blind, but then remembered that the entirety of the kitchen was white. Even if it wasn't, I somehow doubted that Iggy would need to see. So instead, I smiled, not caring that he couldn't see, and said, "Yeah, sounds great. You've got peanuts, right?"

Iggy paused from where he was about to jump from the edge of the roof. "Why would I put peanuts on stir-fry?"

I gasped and gaped at him. "I'm converting you to peanut-ism tonight. To the kitchen!"

For the fun of it, I did a Superman jump from the roof. Iggy laughed and followed after me.

That night, we bonded over peanuts.


Fffffft.

My eyes snapped open, my hand immediately clapping over my nose and mouth to prevent the gas from reaching my lungs and doing serious damage to my nervous system.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I shouted, scrambling out from under the covers of my blessedly warm bed.

Gazzy laughed, immune to his own personal nauseous bomb. He'd been trying to wake me up for the past half hour, but to no avail. Playing Mission: Impossible until the wee hours of the morning just does something to a person's ability to stay awake. Iggy, of course, had won every round. Ironically, he was much better at navigating when he was blind, rather than when he could see.

"Shopping time!" Nudge singsonged as she entered our bedroom. She must have spent the last two hours in the bathroom, as per usual.

I rolled my eyes. "Awesome. Can't wait. Why was it necessary for the Gasman to do his thing in my face?"

Nudge shrugged. "I asked him to get you up. The mall in Denver opens in about an hour. If we want to beat the crowds, we'll have to leave in five."

So business-like, I remarked to myself, internally rolling my eyes.

"And we have how much money?" I asked as I bragged the pair of jeans and ¾ sleeve white tee I'd borrowed from Max. "Gazzy, out," I added, pointing to the doorway.

He pouted—he took after Iggy with all the pervertedness—and trudged out of the room, Nudge kicking the door shut behind him so I could change.

"One hundred and fifty," she said, sounding reluctant, as if it wasn't enough. "Max said only a couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts, and a pair of PJs."

"I agree with her," I muttered, resigning myself to the task at hand. As I pulled my shirt over my head, Nudge grabbed my wrist and dragged me downstairs. She barely gave me time to slip on Max's old tattered pair of slippers before she was outside and doing an up-and-away.