by Cheree Alsop
It would be a dead give-away, but perhaps I could draw something similar. I took a deep breath and began to sketch an outline of wings. The charcoal glided over the paper leaving long, stark lines; a faint whisper of satisfaction rose in my chest.
***
Dr. Ray met us at home that night. “A successful first day, I gather?” he asked with a glance at all the books I had spread out on the card table.
I nodded and turned back to my work. He took the chair opposite me and studied the books thoughtfully. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. The type of social situation you’re in at the Academy doesn’t exactly lead to experience in a normal classroom setting.”
“In other words, you thought I’d chicken out?” I surmised.
He nodded with a twinkle in his eyes. “Your nonchalance in my classroom was either really good acting or a very quick adaptation to unusual situations, both of which are rare for someone your age.”
I grinned at him. “Just good acting. I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. And I had to keep reminding myself that I couldn’t fly away if things went terribly wrong.” I rubbed my forehead and tried to put my feelings into words. “I found myself actually missing the mapped out days at the Academy; a tight schedule with high security and barely a breath of free time. The freedom feels almost too good to be true. It makes me feel scattered, if that makes any sense.”
He gave an answering smile. “One day successful. Most of human life is spent living one day at a time. We don’t have every hour mapped out for us. It’s what we do in our unscheduled time that makes us who we are.”
“It feels unstable, like there’s too much choice and opportunity to mess up.” I glanced at the books. “But I think I finally understand what Benjamin Franklin meant when he said, ‘Those who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety-‘”
“‘Deserve neither liberty nor safety,’” Dr. Ray finished with an approving smile. “Yes, liberty is bought at a high price, but in the end you’ll see it’s highly rewarding as long as you learn to spend your time wisely.”
“Something that’s never been my own ‘til now,” I mused. “It’ll take some getting used to.”
Brie walked in the front door with Jayce close behind. “What will?”
“Time,” the doctor and I said together.
Jayce gave a dramatic sigh. “Don’t tell me Dr. Ray is catching you on and off the clock with his professional rants.”
The doctor gave him a patient smile. “The things you could learn if you but had the patience to sit and listen, Jayce.”
“I do way too much sitting and listening in school as it is to hear more of it when I’m home. Do you want to wear Kale out on his first day?”
“Jayce,” Brie chided.
Dr. Ray rose from his seat and patted her shoulder. “No worries. For a student interested in law, Jayce has a fairly flippant attitude toward the educational system. We’ll just hope it doesn’t rub off on his feelings toward true justice.”
Jayce grinned and ran a hand through his blond hair. “It already has. Why else do you think I plan to minor in drama? I’m going to need some help acting interested in some of those ridiculous cases. Justice? More like waa-fest,” he concluded with a dramatic sigh. He fell on the couch and glanced over at me. “Speaking of justice, Kale’s been rubbing elbows with Dane Daniels.
Dr. Ray’s eyebrows rose. “Rubbing elbows?” He turned to me. “You mean fighting?”
Jayce laughed. “I don’t think I’d call it fighting. More like Dane throwing punches and Kale redirecting him to the floor.”
Dr. Ray frowned. “School bullies are something I didn’t plan on.” He glanced at me. “You managed to keep from killing him?” His tone was only half-joking.
I nodded. “Dane obviously hasn’t had any training, and I just let his momentum carry him into a locker. It was kind-of refreshing knowing I could beat him and not doing it, if that makes any sense.”
Nikko walked into the room. “If what makes any sense?”
“Kale was just telling me about Dane,” Dr. Ray explained.
Nikko nodded with a concerned frown. “I hope Dane can be smart enough to back down when he knows he's over-matched.”
The doctor shook his head. “Lucky for us, Kale has self-control to counter his lethal training, but I need the rest of you to act as a buffer between him and the rest of the school. Dane shouldn’t have been able to get near him in the first place.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Nikko apologized. He looked at me with a hint of awe in his eyes. “But Dane came looking for a fight and Kale's instincts were to protect Jayce; he shut him down before any of us could move.”
It was weird to watch Nikko and Jayce defend me even though I was in the wrong and knew it. My instinct was to take down an attacker regardless of his target; Jayce just got lucky, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them that.
Dr. Ray frowned. “You never know what course of action a bully will take, especially when his pride’s at stake. Promise me you’ll keep Kale out of his way from now on.”
Brie and Nikko nodded with apologetic expressions; Jayce sighed as though he had enjoyed seeing Dane meet his match, but at the doctor’s look, he quickly agreed.
Dr. Ray turned back to me. “Let’s check your wings. It’s time to change the dressings and I want to test your range of motion.” He walked to my room and left me to follow.
Brie gave me an encouraging smile. I took a deep breath and crutched after the doctor. He closed the door and motioned for me to sit on the bed. I lifted my splinted knee and turned so that my back faced the doctor.
“I think we’ve both been putting this off,” he said as he carefully worked the bandages from my feathers.
I nodded, my throat tight. I hadn’t let myself think about what I would do if I couldn’t fly. No matter what the Academy did to us, I wouldn’t give up my wings for a normal life. I didn’t know if it was the bird DNA in my blood, but the call of the wind haunted my dreams.
I gritted my teeth as I felt the doctor loosen the last of the bandages and lift the padding free from my left wing, the one that had been shot. I forced myself not to ask questions and hid a wince at his gentle prodding. He lifted the wing joint and carefully extended it a few inches. I bit my lip at the pain and tried to ignore the hope that rose when the motion was even possible.
“Mmmhmm,” Dr. Ray said before he applied a salve and covered it with a new set of bandages. He then turned and checked the right wing which had been broken just above the shoulder joint. “It’s been five weeks now, too soon to know exactly how it’s healing. But the splint’s held and the bones were set straight before it was bound.” He patted my shoulder. “Keep them immobile for a few more weeks and I have reason to believe you just might fly again after all.”
I pushed down the hope that rose in my chest at his words and forbade it from showing on my face when he finished binding the wings close to my back. I turned around slowly.
He must have seen something in my eyes, though, because he gave a small smile. “You know, it’s okay to hope just a little, Kale.”
I shook my head. “It’s better to face reality. Right now, I can’t fly. I don’t want to let myself believe I might again just to have it taken away.” I clenched and unclenched my jaw against the rise of emotion in my chest.
Dr. Ray nodded. “As you wish. But our ability to hope is one of the things that set us apart from the animals. Looking toward a brighter future can give us the strength we need to get through our trials.”
I gave him a small, ironic smile. “Well, fortunately for you, you’re a lot further removed from those animals than I am.” I motioned toward my wings. “The animal inside me warns against looking toward the intangible. That way, if it becomes unattainable, I won’t have thrown my life away for something I could never have in the first place.”
Dr. Ray tipped an imaginary hat. “Touché. Maybe between the two of us, we’ll fin
d a happy medium in this unpredictable world.”
“I hope so,” I heartily agreed.
He grinned at me and left. I worked my tee-shirt back on. The others had set the table by the time I made my way back to the living room. My mouth watered at the smell of dinner.
“Who would have thought a day of sitting in classrooms would make me so hungry?” I mused out loud.
Jayce snorted. “Now you know why I’m always eating.”
“Yeah,” Brie replied with a smirk. “But you eat the same amount during the breaks.”
“Breaks make me hungry, too,” Jayce said. As if to make his point, he scooped a generous helping of spaghetti onto his plate, and then doubled it. “Perfect.”
“Perfectly disgusting.” Nikko sat across from Jayce and helped himself to some garlic bread.
“Where’s Dr. Ray?” I asked.
“He had a class to teach,” Nikko said with a shrug.
“And our dad’s working late again,” Jayce said around a mouthful of spaghetti. “So it’s another night of ‘kids, fend for yourselves.’ We get that a lot.”
“Because there’s not enough food in the world to keep you fed,” Brie said.
Jayce threw a piece of bread at her and she laughed.
I found myself watching them, the way they bantered as if they knew each other so well no one would take offense. Words like that would spur a usually life-threatening fight at the Academy. I found it hard to wrap my mind around their easy acceptance of each other’s faults and idiosyncrasies.
“Kale?”
“Yes?” I asked, jolted back to the present.
Jayce smirked and Brie smiled. “I just asked if school met your expectations.”
“Exceeded,” I replied. I motioned with my fork, a habit I’d unconsciously picked up from Jayce. “It’s amazing how much you’re taught every day. It must take some practice to remember everything in time for a whole new day to start tomorrow.”
“You think we remember everything?” Jayce said with a laugh. “It generally goes in one ear and out the other, then we have to cram it back in for the tests.”
The others laughed and nodded in agreement. “The goal is to graduate,” Nikko said. Jayce looked at him in surprise, and I wondered if they had argued the point before. “After we have our diplomas, we can start our own lives. This is a holding point until then.”
My brow furrowed. “But this is your lives. If you keep waiting for the ‘after’, you’ll miss everything that happens now.”
Brie nudged me with her elbow. “That’s what I keep telling them. I think they’ll catch on eventually.”
Chapter Six
The weeks flew by. Galdoni were being arrested and brought back to the Academy. We caught every scrap of news about the Galdoni round-up we could find. Rumors continued about the Arena reopening. They released statements that the Galdoni were a danger to the public and that they needed to be used for the purpose for which they were created. Galdoni were considered a national threat, and anyone found hiding them were prosecuted as accomplices.
Reporters claimed that funds from the Arena were going to be reallocated toward the building of new city centers. Nothing surfaced about the Academy’s lawsuit and the original closing. Even Nikko’s research came up empty. The only real facts he found hinted that the charges were being dropped toward some of the major officials, and that the fights were to start up again soon. It seemed like the drop in gambling and cost of relinquishing the Galdoni hurt more than initially projected.
I expanded my studies with Dr. Ray to better understand what they did to create us. The splint on my knee was eventually removed, and though I still limped, the doctor promised that the pain would go away with time.
“Now about those wings. I took the splints off yesterday. Have you taken the chance to try them out?” Dr. Ray studied me intently.
I hesitated, aware that Brie and Jayce watched from the other couch. A pit formed in my stomach and I shook my head.
“Nervous?” Dr. Ray guessed.
At my lack of answer, he gave a knowing smile. “Many of my patients are afraid to test their limbs after their casts are removed. It’s normal. But in your case, it’s the only way to see if what we did worked. I know you have to do this in your own time, but try to have some faith.”
I smiled at him. “One of your other intangibles.”
“Well then, if you won’t give me hope, belief, faith, or prayer, you’ll truly have to do it on your own. Good luck with that.” He nodded at the others and left the room with a chuckle.
Brie pushed away from the table. “I’m tired of studying. Does anyone want to get some fresh air?”
My head hurt from all the cramming, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief that someone else felt the same way. “Definitely.”
Nikko laughed. “Two weeks of school and you’re already acting like a student.” He pointed his pencil at me. “But beware; once you start slacking, it’s all downhill.” He put the pencil behind his ear and sat back with a biochemistry book on one knee.
Brie shook her head. “Jayce’s slacked off for years and he still hasn’t reached the bottom of the hill.”
“I heard that!” Jayce shouted from the kitchen. The refrigerator door closed and a can of soda cracked open. I fought back a grin.
Brie grabbed my hand and headed for the door.
“Hey, Kale.”
I turned back in time to catch the coat Nikko threw at me. I stared at it for a second, horrified that I had almost left the house without covering my wings. At my look, Nikko smiled. “Don’t worry about it. We all start losing our minds after hours of studying. You need to get out. Fresh air’ll do you good.”
I shrugged into the light trench coat and followed Brie out the door, my heartbeat a bit louder than usual.
I had felt myself slipping over the past week. My dreams were filled with images of flying. Even now, the wind toyed with my hair as if beckoning me to follow it. My wings ached, but I was afraid to use them, afraid to find out that they hadn’t healed correctly; I was afraid to be neither human nor Galdoni. I had barely slept because of the dreams, but they had started to haunt my waking hours as well.
Unaware of my torment, Brie slipped her arm through mine and we walked in the twilight toward the forested area near the school. A light fog twisted slowly between the trees like lace sliding through a woman’s fingers. Brie talked about her day and I let the words settle over me in a soothing balm.
We stopped at the bridge that crossed a deep chasm through the woods. I could hear water far below, but the fog stood almost level with the lips of earth on either side of us and obscured the bottom.
“It looks like you could jump off and float forever,” Brie said, her voice dreamy.
I stared at her.
“What?” she asked. When I didn’t answer, she smiled at me. “You’ve been quiet. What are you thinking about?”
“Desperate thoughts,” I replied quietly.
She watched me for a moment as though to gauge whether I was kidding, then her eyes widened when she noticed the trench coat I had discarded on the railing. I couldn’t remember how it had gotten there, but the rush of the breeze through the feathers of my wings felt more like hope than I had ever let myself experience.
“Kale?” she asked.
Before she could stop me, I was standing on the railing staring down into the bottomless fog. It swirled below like whip cream melting in a cup of hot chocolate.
“Kale?” her voice rose, alarmed.
“I can’t live like this, Brie,” I whispered, my eyes on the ravine.
Before she could protest, I jumped.
The damp wind rushed past; moisture clung to my clothes and filled my senses with its heady aroma. It took all my effort not to close my eyes and let it end there, my last thoughts of the wind and welcoming darkness.
“Kale!” Brie’s scream reached me and I opened my wings.
Pain laced through them at the unexpected force. I
closed them for fear that they would break again. The sound of the river below roared in my ears. I fought past the fear and opened them enough to catch the wind that rushed by me. At first, it felt as though the wings were useless. The bottom of the ravine sped closer with them open, and a grim chuckle sounded in my mind at the irony. Then the wind caught and they lifted, filling with air as though they had never been damaged. I skimmed just above the river; it splashed on my face and I laughed once in triumph.
It felt so good to fly. I glided above the water, challenging myself with the dark twists and turns through the fog that tried to tear me from the air. I kicked off a large rock and shot upward. My wings ached, but it felt good, so good, to beat the air down and rise above the ground, above the trees, above the clouds to the stars. I soared for a few minutes high in the dark sky.
A peace I had never known before filled my heart. I breathed the crisp night air and held it in until my lungs burned. I let it out with a laugh and flew in lazy circles.
The bell tower near the school tolled below, breaking through my reverie. I remembered.
“Brie.”
I dove heedless of the dark night and foggy trees until I saw her silhouette on the bridge. She stood on the railing, her hands clutching the support wires and her eyes on the fog below. My heart slowed at the gleam of tears on her cheeks. I landed quietly on the road a few feet away.
No one cried for me. No one had ever cried for me; nothing I had done ever instilled that type of emotion in anyone. I hadn’t been made to cry for.
I took a step forward, fighting the pressure in my chest. “Brie?” I asked quietly.
She turned, and the relief on her face felt like the sun after a long rain. “Kale!”
She jumped down from the railing and ran the last few feet between us. She threw her arms around me and held me tight. I stumbled back on my bad knee, but managed to keep standing. Her tears soaked through my shirt and my soul. “Oh, Kale. Don’t ever, ever do that again. Promise me.”