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Wings

Chapter 2

I don't know how long I sat in the bathroom, my forehead pressed to the bathroom counter. When the lighting went down I realized it was evening. I wasn't hungry, though, and my stomach still felt like it was going to turn against me any following second. I stripped out of my pants and crawled to the bath, unsure if my knees would hold me up, and stood on all fours as I yanked the shower curtain closed and turned on the hot water. It was when I felt it on my cheeks that I began to cry, watching the red water go down the drain. I waited until the water falling off me was clear before shutting my eyes and leaning forward until my forehead rested against the now warm enamel.

I was a mutant.

I had heard about them on television, and like everyone else, I hadn't given it much thought. Some people were dead afraid of them, others were fascinated, and most were indifferent to it until they met one. Or in some cases, until they became one.

What was I going to do?

They were still bare, those long things coming out of my back, looking freakishly ridiculous with their tiny little feathers. I would have laughed if it wasn't my back. Perhaps I could hide them now, but considering how big they already were, I wasn't sure I could still hide them as well when they would be complete with feathers.

I shivered when the water ran cold and turned the faucet off. I dried myself with a towel before stepping inside the room again, pulling underwear and a pair of pants out of my drawer and putting them on. I stood still then, staring at the bloodied bed, and took a deep breath before tearing the bed sheets off of it. I tossed them in a garbage bag and replaced them with clean ones. I opened the little refrigerator we had for an apple, and flopped down on the mattress as I munched on it. I forced myself to breathe deeply, shutting my eyes and forcing the apple down my throat.

It worked, though. I was feeling better. I looked out the window, the sky already very dark. I was supposed to take the train this afternoon to go to my parents for my birthday the next day. I was late and they would worry, but there was no way I was ever going to go there and show myself to them. I stood up, walking to the window, and leaned my hands on the window sill, frowning out at the school grounds. How I was going to hide such things here, I had no idea.

My mother would have a heart attack.

My father honestly didn't need that kind of publicity.

I couldn't go home, it was a given. Could I stay in school? I pulled the curtains over the window and turned the lights on when it became too dark, and spent the last hours of the day trying to pull the "wings" closer to my back. It felt like having no control over your arms, and it was disturbing; but as I practiced, pulled them closer, opened them, and learned to move them by my own will instead of having them simply hang in my back, I gained a certain control over the two things. After a number of hours I didn't count, I was able to hug them close enough to my body to be able to wrap them up with what available bandages were in the bathroom, and although it rather felt like a strait jacket, I was able to pull a t-shirt over my head.

I glanced at the mirror and sighed. I looked like a weird hunchback, but adding the sweater helped. How I was going to stand the heavy sweater with the summer coming was something I would deal with later on. How I was going to hide the "wings" from Cameron, though, was a more immediate problem.

The feathers had grown during the next two days. White and soft, they tickled my back and made it harder to put the bandages on. They were making the wings longer, too, and I started to worry that the longer feathers at the tips would start showing under the hem of my shirt. I could hardly tuck them in my pants, and was more than recalcitrant to the idea of simply plucking them off. I had had enough pain for a weekend.

I was sitting on my bed by the wall when Cameron walked back in the room. I had gathered the pillows in the corner of the wall, and was leaning back against them, my homework in my lap. I had the rather firm intention of staying there until Cameron was either gone out or asleep. He let out a deep sigh as he plopped face first on his bed. "I have a theory," he announced, his voice coming out muffled through the pillow.

I felt my nervousness fade a bit, and chuckled, looking back down at my books. "Oh, really? A theory about what?"

"When you leave home, your mother stops being annoying to anyone. She's saving it all for when you come back. That's why she's a thousand times worse when you do go home." I simply smiled, not responding, and he turned his head so his cheek laid on the pillow, staring at me. "Are you alright?"

I licked my lips, nodding. "Yeah. I didn't sleep much."

"I tried calling yesterday, for your birthday, but you didn't pick up."

I glanced up at him. He was still staring at me, now turned on his side and propped up on his forearm. "I was sick, I didn't feel like picking up. A lot of people called and left messages."

He seemed satisfied with that, and nodded, switching to another subject. "How was the game? It sucks that I missed it."

It reminded me of the shower incident, and I lowered my gaze back at the books. "It sucked, too. We lost." He rolled his eyes and turned on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't say anything else, and soon I heard his snore, smiling sadly to myself as I looked back at my math book. I felt the wings twitch uncomfortably in my back, asking to be left free as they had been in the last two days, but I ignored it, my heart squeezing at the thought of what I would have to do to keep them a secret.

"Why are you doing this, Warren?"

I looked up from my lunch to see Cameron standing in front of my table, eyebrows drawn in a deep frown. I was sitting in a corner of the room, away from the table where I usually would eat with Cameron and the others. I had acted like this for a week now. I ignored him in our room, sat in the back of the classrooms so that no one would be behind me, and stopped hanging out with our group of friends. In fact, I avoided them at all costs, and stayed alone as much as I could. It had worked until now. "What do you mean?" I asked in the coldest voice I could manage.

Maybe a bit too cold. His face changed, his expression fading to something angrier. "What is the matter with you!"

"You just came here to yell at me?" I asked, frowning at him.

"Yes! You're being a complete jerk to everyone, and I want to know why."

I snorted and looked down at my lunch again, picking at a piece of meat with my fork. My appetite was quickly fading, my stomach filling with something that felt like cold lead. "Don't see why it should be any of your business."

"Don't make me feel like this is a waste of my time, Warren. You know I'm not patient."

I looked back up at him, this time to shoot him a cold glare. "Well if you're so willing to help, of course, take a seat," I spat.

He rolled his eyes, sighing. My eyebrows rose when he did sit down, though, straddling the chair and crossing his arms over the back of it. He stared at me a long moment, then, and arched an eyebrow. "Okay, shoot."

My eyes rolled as well, and I shook my head. "Can't you understand sarcasm when you hear it?"

"Yeah, but I ignore it." There was true concern in his eyes, and I was tempted to tell him everything for a second or two, when he continued with something that made me frown. "Sarcasm is just a way to show that you're afraid of the real words."

My eyebrows drew together. "Leave me alone, Cameron. Just because you want to know something, doesn't mean I want to tell you."

His eyes darkened. "You know, I'm about to be really annoyed about this."

I looked down, picking at my now cold food. "You'll be doing me a favor." He stared coldly at me for a long moment before clenching his jaw. He stood up abruptly, making the chair bang against the table, and glared hard at me before spinning on his heels and stomping back to his table. I watched him go, guilt squeezing my guts, but looked back down at my food and forced myself to eat some more.

He tried many more times, but I avoided it each time. If he caught me at the end of class, I would just pick up my books and leave. I didn't follow the guys outside when they went out. Cameron was harder to avoid when we were in our room, but I simply didn't look at him when he spoke, and only replied when he started to get angry, yelling back at him and turning it into a fight he would storm out of, slamming the door on his way out. Pissing a friend off can be easy, but making your best friend angry at you by acting like the complete opposite of what you usually are doesn't make them leave. It makes them stubborn.

It was stupid of me to drive him away, I realize this now. Him working so hard to get it out of me, insisting on knowing what's wrong, and sticking by my side even though I was the biggest jerk to him should have been hints about how much I could trust him. But I was young, I was an idiot, and instead of trusting him, I made sure he would hate me instead.

It was hard, but it eventually worked.

By the end of the month, I pissed Cameron off enough to make him ask for a different room. He was glaring at me the whole time he packed, and had a hurt look in his eyes, but I didn't say a word, stubbornly keeping my eyes on the book I was pretending to read.

He paused by the door before stepping out, staring at me like he was waiting for something. I was quickly annoyed by this, and glared up at him. "What?" I snapped.

He got that hurt look again, his jaw clenching angrily, and shook his head before looking down, opening the door. "Nothing," he hissed as he stepped out. The door slammed shut behind him and I pursed my lips, hard expression melting as the lead in my stomach sunk lower in my guts. I sighed and tossed my book on the mattress next to me, pulling my legs up and crossing my arms over my knees. My gaze went to the window, through which a warm sun was shinning, and I shut my eyes, resting my forehead against my arms. I was alone now.

It was what I wanted, wasn't it?

"Hello?"

I had picked up the phone without thinking. Lately the only person to call me was my mother, and even she wasn't a very assiduous interlocutor. "Warren?" I froze, biting my lower lip. Of all people, Candy had obviously been the easiest to avoid, and I had done this carefully enough that I hadn't had to be mean to her. I had hopes of keeping it that way, I wasn't sure if I could make her angry at me. "Oh Warren, it's so good to finally talk to you."

I licked my lips, sitting down. "Why are you calling?" There was a long pause.

"Don't act like you don't know. Warren… I haven't talked to you since before your birthday."

I ran a hand through my hair. "And? No news is good news, right?"

"Riiight," she said, sounding unconvinced. "Only I did get news, just not from you. And it wasn't that good. I still speak to Cameron, you know." The accent on the "I" was obvious, but it was said in a soft tone.

I couldn't resist. "What did he say?" I finally asked.

She sighed softly. "That he doesn't know what's wrong with you, that you started to act like a moron for no reason at all, that he thought you were sick, but that you wouldn't talk to him. He moved out of your room, Warren, what's going on? You two are the best of friends and you, like… divorced."

"We were the best of friends," I corrected.

She was silent a long moment. "I don't think it's his fault that you were the best of friends. Or if it is, I think he'd want you to tell him what he did wrong, so he can fix it."

"He asked you to call me, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't. He even warned me that you would probably tell me to bug off if I did. You haven't done that yet, so I'm guessing it's him you're angry at." I swear I could see her frown through her voice. "You do realize you're acting like an idiot, don't you?"

"Well isn't that nice of you to say."

"Hey, if you act like a jerk with your friends for a few weeks, don't expect them to be nice to you. What happened, Warren?" she pleaded. "I miss you."

Of course she had to resort to feelings. She was a girl. "It's not that simple, Candy. It's personal."

"Oh, that's a ridiculous answer. I despise it and I won't accept it."

I snorted softly. "Am I supposed to be scared?"

"You don't give me any sign of life for weeks, and when you do pick up the phone, you tell me your problems are personal? Of course you should be scared. I wouldn't sleep if I was you." She snorted, chuckling softly. "Be afraid. Be very, very afraid."

I let my lips turn up a bit. I missed her too. "And why is it not a good answer?"

"It's not a good answer because friends are personal too. Personal stuff and friends go in the same category; you're supposed to trust me with your secrets."

The smile, as small as it was, faded from my face. "It has nothing to do with secrets. I have to go, Candy."

"No. Warren, don't hang up…"

My fingers clenched around the receiver. "I have to go."

She sighed softly. "Alright," she said sadly, and paused. "I'll see you in a week, then."

That took me by surprise. "In a week?"

"Yes, in a week."

Long pause.

"Why?"

She let out a soft sigh. "You forgot? Your school's junior prom, Warren, next weekend."

Another pause.

I frowned. "Prom?"

"Yeah, prom," she said, starting to sound annoyed. "You know… boy asks girl, girl happy, girl with dress, boy with tux, dance, boy steps on girl's toes and stuff like that?"

I blinked. "But… you're not even in my school," I replied stupidly. "And I didn't ask you to come with me."

Pause again. She snorted softly, and replied in a sour voice, "No. Cameron did."

In a month, the feathers had grown to what I hoped was their full size. The longest ones were more than a foot long, nearly two at the tip of my wings. Said tips would touch either walls of my room when I spread them open, but I had learned to hug them even closer to my back as they grew bigger, still hiding them successfully. If someone did notice, I heard no word of it. The gauze I would use to tie them wasn't strong enough anymore, though, and I spent a few nights working on a harness that I could easily attach, and that wouldn't have to be tightened every few hours like the bandages did.

I didn't want to go to the prom. It sounded like the last place to be for someone who wanted to avoid people, and a nagging voice in my mind kept teasing me about how I just didn't want to see Candy with Cameron.

I waited until everyone was dressed and out of the dorms to wander out as well. I walked to the end of the hallway, pushing my way through the emergency exit, and climbed the iron stairs up to the roof of the building. I walked to the edge of the roof, kneeling down, and looked around.

The sun was setting, the sky in beautiful shades of colors. Above my head, it was already a dark blue, and the night breeze was warm on my arms. I licked my lips nervously, and shrugged off my shirt before unclasping the harness and spreading my wings. It made me realize they couldn't spread at their full length in the room, and it felt good to finally stretch them. The wings ruffled in the soft wind, a soft rustling sound to my ears, and I wondered, seriously, if they would allow me to fly.

I was never afraid of heights. As a child I would climb everywhere, and many times did my mother find me sitting on the banister of the second floor mezzanine, on the roof of the mansion or in the trees. She would always scream at me to get down in a scared tone, but to me, it was natural.

Maybe that was why.

There was a sudden draft of stronger wind. It felt fresh and good on my face, stirring my hair, and I shut my eyes. I snapped them open a second later, though, gripping the edge of the roof when it hit my wings and suddenly lifted them; it almost sent me flying back at the same time. I quickly closed my wings, shaking as I kept a death grip on the roof, my whole body tensed up as I stared at the ground below.

Maybe I could fly, but that didn't mean I knew how.

I looked down at the ground. If I fell, it was a 40 ft long fall into the hard pavement. It wouldn't necessarily kill me, but it would hurt me enough to break something, and I wasn't looking forward to that. I slowly opened my wings again, and, shutting my eyes, gave a tentative, shy flap.

It didn't do much, and I did it again, this time a bit harder. The loud sound of it surprised me enough to let go of the roof, and the wing caught in the wings again, sending me flying back on the roof. I fell on my side with a groan, the shingles scrapping my skin. "Damn," I mumbled, pushing myself up again.

So plan A was a bad one.

I felt my eyebrows draw together in a determined way, and crawled back to the edge of the roof, ignoring the pain in my side. I frowned up at the sky. How was I going to learn if no one could help me?

The hard way.

I narrowed my eyes, spreading my wings as far as I could. I leaped off the roof, and shut my eyes.

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