The Girl and the Grove

by Eric Smith

  “Yeah,” Landon said, looking down at the wing, suddenly sad. “It works for now, at least until my parents catch on.”

  “Catch on?” Leila asked. “What, they don’t want you in college?”

  “Hm?” Landon shook his head. “Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You know, we should really keep exploring the grounds, I think you’ll like it here,” Landon said, bottling himself back up.

  “Yeah, okay,” Leila nodded as he started to walk away. “Oh! Wait!”

  Landon turned around.

  “Why?” Leila asked.

  “Why what?” He cocked his head to the side, and Milford did the same.

  “The flying?” Leila asked with a shrug, pointing at the owl. “Doing it again and again, making him the wings and all. Why do it?”

  Landon looked over at the owl, and scratched under its head. Milford lifted his chin up, eyes shut, lost in being petted.

  “It’s not about that. It’s about giving him the chance to try.”

  The wind rustled.

  Go.

  The voice circled back, as the cool breeze brushed at Leila’s face and neck.

  He bears the colors of the caretakers. He will understand.

  Leila closed her eyes and shook her head a little, trying to ignore the pounding in her temples and the voices that were coming in way too clearly.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Landon asked.

  She opened her eyes, and the voices faded.

  “Yeah, yeah, no, I’m fine,” Leila said, feeling flushed. “I’m, um, I’m going to go find Sarika.”

  “Okay, well, if you need anything, I’ll be here,” Landon nodded, walking back over. “Here’s my number, text me if you’re not feeling too great, and I can call a ranger to come drive you out.”

  And with that, Landon turned and walked towards the rest of the students, leaving Leila with her heart feeling strangely full.

  THREAD: OMG THANKS YOU GUYS

  FORUM: GENERAL

  OMG THANKS YOU GUYS

  Posted by WithouttheY

  AUGUST 19th, 2017 | 1:02PM

  I mean, seriously, what do I even say right now?

  I’m still not feeling great, but the outpouring of support is no doubt speeding up the recovery process. I think I read something about that. Because you know, science or whatever.

  Debating what to do with the extra funds, but I’ll likely make some donations to the youth centers in my area. The Attic, maybe? I dunno. Something good. You’re all wonderful.

  RE: OMG THANKS YOU GUYS

  Posted by Toothless

  AUGUST 19th, 2017 | 2:09PM

  Awesome, glad you’re feeling better. Let’s make those plans soon.

  RE: OMG THANKS YOU GUYS

  Posted by WithouttheY

  AUGUST 19th, 2017 | 3:02PM

  Yes please ;-)

  RE: OMG THANKS YOU GUYS

  Posted by A Dash of Paprika

  AUGUST 19th, 2017 | 3:22PM

  . . . THE HELL IS THIS?

  X

  “So,” Sarika said, dropping her backpack and leaning into the lockers. “We need to talk, Miss Flirting-

  with-the-enemy-on-our-message-board.”

  “Okay, that’s nothing, I’ve never even met him and we’ve swapped like a handful of messages. And he’s not that bad. Maybe I’ll grab coffee with him and report back—”

  “If he hasn’t slain you because he turns out to be a crazy Internet person! Have you even been paying attention during our Lifetime movie marathons?” Sarika said, looking at Leila with wide, doubtful eyes. “Just saying. At least bring him into Adam’s for coffee, so I can protect you from afar. Maybe I’ll perch on the espresso machine. With a crossbow.”

  “You watch too many of the wrong Lifetime movies,” Leila laughed as she swung open her locker. “Those definitely . . . oh.”

  She stopped mid-sentence, staring inside her locker.

  “What is it?” Sarika asked, peering inside her locker. “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s . . . that’s a ballsy move,” Sarika said.

  “I’ll say.”

  Inside her locker sat a dozen flowers, multiple colors and kinds, bound together in soft, white paper. A card was stuck to the front of the bouquet.

  I’m sorry. – Shawn.

  “I mean, what do you even say to something like that?” Leila asked. “’Kay? Thanks? Good luck with all your future endeavors? Have a nice life with your awful girlfriend?”

  “Hell if I know,” Sarika said, shrugging. “How did he even get into your locker?”

  “Dr. Rich, maybe?” Leila wondered. “He seems like the sad-romantic sort.”

  Leila reached in and plucked the bouquet out. The smell of the fresh flowers was overwhelming and intense. With her hand around the thick, green stems, still wet from wherever they were before, she breathed in, and then fought the urge to gasp as she felt the flowers rustle about. It was as if they were trying to stretch in the tied-up bouquet, their leaves bending, and the petals blooming out ever so slightly.

  It felt like the little tree in her yard all over again. Growing too fast, stretching out as if they wanted to touch her when she got close.

  She moved to put the flowers back in the locker when they abruptly shot out of her hand with a loud slap against the paper. They hit the hard floor of the school hallway, and the voices in Leila’s head came screaming back, loud and shrill, like they’d been the day the willow was cracked in half. She pressed her hands against her head and leaned against the locker, gritting her teeth and muttering to herself.

  “Hallway. Locker. School.”

  “Hey!” a familiar voice shouted.

  “Leave her alone!” Sarika yelled, her voice booming in the hall.

  “What’s wrong with her?” another said. “Hey, what’s the matter with you?”

  “I said, leave her alone!” Sarika roared.

  Leila shook her head gently and turned to spot Jessica, Rebekah, and Gwen standing right there in the hall. Jessica was laughing with Rebekah, practically falling over. Gwen, the girl with the brown hair and freckles, stood away from the other two, her mouth turned down into a frown, shaking her head.

  “Come on, guys,” Gwen muttered, bending down to pick up some of the flowers.

  “Get out of here!” Sarika shouted. She went to push past Leila, who grabbed her and held on to her. Sarika was a ball of fury. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  “I’ll be fine,” Leila said, the voices now faded.

  “You stay away from my man,” Jessica snapped. “I own him.” She bent down and picked up the card, holding it between two well-manicured fingers like a playing card, and promptly flicked it at Leila. Then she turned on her heels and kept walking down the hall with Rebekah. Leila let go of Sarika, and the two of them began plucking the flowers from the hard floor.

  “Sorry about all that,” Gwen said, softly, handing the flowers over to Leila. “They, um, get carried away sometimes.”

  “You think?” spat Sarika, snatching the flowers out of Gwen’s hands.

  Leila took the flowers gently from Sarika, focusing on them, her hand gripping the stems tight. They didn’t rustle or stretch or show any signs of movement, which gave Leila an odd, sinking feeling in her chest. She sifted the non-broken flowers back into the paper bouquet. A majority of the flowers had snapped their stems, hanging off by green threads like the lowered heads of sad people. Leila lifted the bouquet up and looked at it, shaking her head, and then plucked the “I’m sorry” card off the floor, where it had slid across the smooth linoleum to the opposite side of the hall.

  “You know, forget all this,” Leila said, marching back over to her locker, cramming the flowers and card inside and slamming the door. The force sent a small blossom of pain against her still-w
ounded head, pressing against the new head scarf Lisabeth had given her this morning. “I don’t need this today. Or any day for that matter.”

  Leila snatched her bicycle helmet from off the ground and tossed on her jacket. Jon and Liz weren’t thrilled about her getting back on a bike so soon, but the headaches hadn’t been bad. And besides, she was going to do it anyway, with or without the okay. And Lisabeth’s bike was good enough to ride, despite being a little too tall.

  “Cover for me?” Leila asked Sarika, who responded with a sneaky grin.

  “Don’t I always?” Sarika shrugged. “And besides, it’s enrichment, remember? You could cut the rest of the summer. But don’t. We’re supposed to be having fun.” Sarika glared at Gwen, who shied away from her gaze.

  “Let’s meet up at Adam’s later,” Leila said. “I’ll ride over there around the time you’re getting out.”

  “Perfect.”

  Leila hugged Sarika softly and turned to see Gwen still standing there, shifting her feet about on the floor awkwardly. She was trying to stare at anything but the two of them.

  “You can, you know, go fuck off now or something,” Sarika said, waving at Gwen.

  “Oh, come on, Sarika,” Leila said, giving her a playful shove. “Thanks for, you know, trying, Gwen. I think you’re probably better than all them, you know?”

  Gwen nodded, and turned away to walk down the hall. Something about the way she carried herself, her head down, not looking at anything around her in particular, felt incredibly sad. Like she was lost.

  It weighed heavy on Leila’s heart.

  She knew the feeling all too well.

  _____

  Leila pushed forward on Lisabeth’s bicycle, the frame a bit high and bulky for her tastes. It was thick and made more for mountain biking and difficult trails than the city streets. The end-of-summer Philadelphia breeze tickled her face. She exhaled, fighting the urge to close her eyes and just let her other senses take over as the sidewalks, trees, and people whooshed by her as she sped through the city streets. She sighed as a feeling of warmth rushed to her chest, enjoying the moment, welcoming the long ride back home.

  Home.

  The word stirred up feelings inside her, but it actually was a home this time, wasn’t it? For once she wasn’t pedaling towards a group home she’d grown weary of spending the night in, or speeding towards another lame job fair or skill-building workshop thrown together by well-meaning and concerned adults. She was going towards something good. It felt nice.

  Leila.

  Her body stiffened, and she fought the urge to slam on the brakes again as the memories of the last time this happened up on Kelly Drive came surging back. The whispering. The voices. They were louder than ever, resounding in a single voice instead of feeling like a few dozen. No longer did the whispering feel like a quiet breath against the back of her neck. Now, it was as if the faceless voice was next to her, singing in her ear.

  Come to the forest.

  “Bike. Wind,” she started muttering to herself softly as she rode.

  The forest. Come to me.

  “Road. Trees.”

  Leila.

  Her name.

  The voices used her name.

  Suddenly, everything felt as though it had piled up too high, and something in Leila snapped.

  Shawn being a tool, asking his inappropriate questions. The damn girls in the hallway at summer enrichment. Her parents, and their sad, pleading eyes, how she couldn’t give them what they seemed to desperately want. Landon, and whatever that park ranger had to do with the voices in the wind.

  That was it.

  Time to talk back.

  “There isn’t a fucking forest around here,” Leila growled, her eyes darting about as she pressed on, pedaling fast and feeling angry. It was just another thirty or forty minutes on this bicycle and she’d be home, where she could hide in her room and not worry about some disembodied voices causing her to crash. She could hide out in the living room, maybe tool around with fixing Marigold in the yard. She’d check out Major Willow and see how she was doing, if she somehow had magically grown a little more in the past few days.

  “This is a city,” Leila said, resolutely. “There are parks. Nothing that resembles wilderness—”

  There was once a great forest.

  “Stop it,” Leila muttered, shaking her head a little. “Just stop it. I’m not here for you. You aren’t real.”

  But then men came, with axes and saws, killing many, leaving few.

  Leila slowed down and pulled over to the sidewalk. She was in the Eraserhood, a section of Philadelphia affectionately named after a David Lynch movie she thought was weird and unwatchable. She stopped. The single voice was loud and clear, with the hint of others still whispering around it, circling like a small breeze.

  She took a deep breath.

  If this was the game the voices wanted to play, then fine.

  She’d play.

  “Where do you want me to go? Huh?” Leila asked, closing her eyes. All these years she’d pushed the voices away, shoving them down, down, down, as far from her as she could. She’d said words that grounded her to push them back. “What do you want me to do?”

  The old mansion, made of stone and our fallen sisters.

  Leila shook her head, the nonsensical words starting to press against the wound on her forehead.

  “I don’t understand. I . . . you’re not real. I can’t help you. G-go away.”

  He will know. He who has walked among us. His brothers once sought to save us.

  “Who?”

  The boy with the one-winged bird.

  Leila dropped the bicycle, grabbed at her head, and cried. She sat on the warm sidewalk, heated by the late summer sun, with large, looming buildings surrounding her. The Eraserhood was a mixture of old, decaying structures and repurposed warehouses made into condos and offices. The shattered, abandoned buildings looked like blackened teeth next to the brand-new ones. She took a few deep breaths, trying to focus, trying to push the voices—and the dark feelings brewing in her chest—away.

  Leila.

  “GO AWAY!” she screamed, her head pounding.

  We need you. I need you.

  “What do you want me to do? If I listen, will you just leave me alone?”

  The forest. The mansion. The boy. And the bird.

  “That doesn’t tell me anything!”

  Leila listened. She waited. The neighborhood around her was quiet, save for the rumble of cars as they drove by her, some slowing down to peek at her before driving off. The wind rustled bits of trash on the streets, howling gently in the nearby alleys and empty buildings.

  She listened.

  And no one spoke.

  With a huff, she stood up, lifted Liz’s bike off the sidewalk and swung her leg over it. She breathed in and pulled her phone out of her pocket before clicking it on. She scrolled through the contact list, scrolling past Home, Jon, Lisabeth, and stopping on Sarika, her mind running on autopilot. Sarika was always the first person she messaged, but this time . . .

  She scrolled back.

  Landon.

  The boy with the bird.

  He wasn’t really a boy. He had to be what, nineteen? Maybe twenty? He had all that stubble on his face. And the uniform made it hard to figure out. It was hard to tell, they hadn’t really spoken all that much save for that run-in at the Raptor Trust, with his quiet confession about his owl, and his flirty, dark-brown eyes. He’d said he was at the Community College of Philadelphia in his first year, and he certainly had that younger look about him, despite the scruffy beard that Leila had to admit she really liked.

  The voices said he had answers.

  “Forest. Mansion. Boy. Bird,” she muttered to herself.

  And if he thought she was out of her mind, at least she never had to
see him again.

  She exhaled, clicked on his name, and held the phone up to her ear.

  ECO-ACTIVISTS MESSAGE BOARD: PERSONAL MESSAGES [USER: WITHOUTTHEY]

  FROM

  SUBJECT

  DATE

  TOOTHLESS

  FREE TONIGHT?

  Maybe grab that coffee? How’d you explain that board message to your pal Paprika? I mean, if you guys are really besties IRL, I don’t want to like, come between all that. I’m just some guy on the Internet that thinks you’re really interesting and likely super cute.

  8/20

  WITHOUTTHEY

  RE: FREE TONIGHT?

  Ah, I wish. I’m busy with some personal things. Another day? And she took it well. Just lots of busting chops.

  Also I am blushing.

  8/20

  TOOTHLESS

  RE: FREE TONIGHT?

  Busting chops, surprise surprise. Alright, I’ll pester you another day.

  ;-)

  8/20

  XI

  “Voices,” Landon said, deadpan.

  “Yes,” Leila said.

  “On the wind,” Landon continued. Milford sat perched on his shoulder, his head moving just a little, a nudge to the left, a nudge to the right, his bold, yellow eyes fixed on something in the trees. He wasn’t wearing one of Landon’s faux-wings, but with his other wing pressed against his body it was kind of hard to tell he was missing one in the first place.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Were they singing?” He grinned, and Leila glared at him. “Sorry, it sounds so very . . . Disney movie princess-ish?” Landon ventured, his tone rising.

  “You know what,” Leila muttered, resisting the urge to tell him off. “Just take me to this house or whatever, and I’ll never tell a soul about Milly there, otherwise—”