That was when she remembered something. “So what else have you been doing, besides keeping my lonely self company?”
Neal gave her a funny look, but replied nonetheless. “Tried playing beer pong, but that didn’t work out so well. Ditto with Wii Sports. I was better off cracking jokes on the sidelines.” Then he let out a sheepish little laugh. “Well, they called me to play when they wanted some comedy relief. I was good for that.”
“Hey, at least you served some purpose.”
“Yeah, it was fun.”
Farrah nodded and glanced down, unsure of what else she could say. “I actually haven’t seen Dalton at all tonight. Have you?”
“Yeah, we were hanging out at beer pong.”
“Nice. I’ve heard he’s pretty good.”
Neal shrugged. “He’s not the best, but I don’t think he can complain.”
There was another silence, and Farrah loathed it. Acting on a crazy impulse, she left her chair and gingerly lowered herself onto his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck and moving their faces close. For some reason, her breath was shallow.
It was probably because of how fast her heart was beating to be this close to him, and the way his ever-compliant self had placed hands on her thigh and waist bracingly. His expression was bemused, however, and that worried her.
“I’m not too heavy, am I?” she asked in a self-conscious whisper when he didn’t volunteer anything.
For a moment their eyes met, and then he pressed his lips to her cheek. “Not even if you had proper marrow,” he said, and after a beat she realized that it was a reference to her hollow bones. Just like him, she didn’t weigh near as much as she used to.
“Okay.” In a sudden rush of earnestness, she dipped her head down (it was so weird, feeling taller) and touched their mouths together. It wasn’t as firm or confident as Neal—it only lasted a split second—but she hoped that it conveyed something of what she was trying to do.
It seemed to, because then his hold on her became an actual hold instead of a brace. “You seem a lot less uptight now,” he murmured.
“I am. I think I needed this,” she said honestly. “And I really owe you an apology for how I’ve been acting.”
Neal tugged her nearer and shook his head a little. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad that you’re back to normal.”
“I’ve been such a bitch. I’m so sorry, Neal.” She tried to convey in her voice just how much she meant that, but somehow it didn’t feel like it had come across the way she hoped.
“You were never bitchy,” he told her. “It was more overwhelmed.”
“I still shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Farrah.” He didn’t need to say more for her to meet his eyes long and hard. “It’s in the past. Let it go.”
She felt like he was letting her off easy, but the look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t going to hear about it anymore, so she reluctantly let it go. After a long staring match she ended it by blinking and asking diffidently, “Did you ever find out what breastsummer meant?”
For a moment he looked like he couldn’t believe what she was asking, but then he let out a small laugh and said, “Yes, actually. A breastsummer is a supporting beam that goes across windows or doorways. Totally weird, right?”
Now it was her turn to laugh, and in that moment everything between them felt completely and utterly comfortable again. “Definitely not what I would call it,” she said. “Was that the weirdest one?”
Their faces had been close throughout this whole conversation, but she felt energy crackling between them when he crossed even that distance. He was a hair’s breadth away from kissing her when he said, “Not unless you want to know what a skeezus is.”
She initially debated with herself about replying at all, but eventually decided to say, “Sounds like the spit that sometimes comes out when people are talking. You know, like, ‘hey, you’ve got a little skeezus on your chin.’ ”
Neal laughed in his throat, smiling charmingly. Affection surged in Farrah’s gut; even with that snaggletooth, he was the handsomest boy in the world. “That sounds strangely appropriate, but no. It’s actually someone who fakes an accent to make fun of accents. Crazy specific, skeezus.”
“You’re not kidding,” she muttered just before their lips met. It wasn’t a cute little peck this time, either. Neal was pliable and warm and welcoming, and even though they weren’t making out she could feel his passion acutely. Farrah’s whole body curled towards him, humming with energy that gathered and rocketed tendrils of electricity through her limbs wherever he touched her. Once again she felt that strange attractiveness, as if she could be the most desirable girl in the world just because Neal thought she was worth this.
Just as her mouth opened he jerked his head back. Then he collected himself and looked into her intently. “No matter what I try to say or do tonight,” he said in a somewhat husky voice. “Please, don’t let me kiss you any farther than that.”
“What? You mean making out?” she asked a little breathlessly, trying to understand. “Or—”
“No, that.” He leaned their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing past each other. “It’s not the right time for that yet.”
Suddenly things snapped into perspective. “So that’s what this whole kissing thing is about. You’re waiting for the perfect moment.”
“You probably wouldn’t believe it, ‘cause guys aren’t supposed to think about those things, but it’s more for me than you.” His eyes were closed now, but she didn’t need them to be open to see that it was taking something out of him to admit this.
Once again she was impacted by how dynamic Neal was. He didn’t fit any one stereotype, he was little bits and pieces of them all rolled into one incredible person. If he were any less than he was—any more predictable—then he would not be near as attractive to her.
Yes, physically she was a little frustrated that he had interrupted that last kiss, but emotionally she was okay. Emotionally, he was so important to her that she would support anything he wanted to do. If that meant waiting for what he dubbed The Perfect Moment, then Farrah wouldn’t give in to what her body wanted. She didn’t want to be ignorant and self-centered anymore.
However, she was unable to resist kissing him again, softly, stopping exactly where he had asked. “Then I’m expecting you to tell me when,” she told him.
For a moment Neal looked somewhat insecure, but then he beamed at her like the sun and every seeming sacrifice she thought she was making was totally and completely worth it. “That’s the thing,” he said. “When the time comes, I don’t think I’ll have to.”
Chapter 13
When she heard her cell phone ring Farrah nearly had a heart attack. As far as she was concerned it was way too early to be awake, much less calling people. Catching herself right before she rolled off her bed, she groped blindly around on the bedside table for her still-ringing cell phone.
“Hello?” she muttered groggily into the receiver.
“Farrah? Is that you?” That was none other than Neal. And he was disgustingly energetic.
She rolled onto her back and threw her free arm across her eyes. “You’re actually up at this hour? And happy about it?”
“Oh shit, did I wake you or something?”
“Yeah,” she groaned. “Just a little.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about that—but I couldn’t wait. I had to tell you.” There was an appalling amount of excitement in his voice. For the life of her, she could not see why.
Faintly, she registered that it was pouring rain outside her window. Rubbing at her face and clearing the sleep from her throat, she asked, “What is it?”
“I flew. Farrah, it was incredible. I was about six inches off the ground, and I maintained it. I had to talk to somebody about it, and I would have let you sleep, but my parents are too stoned to understand right now. I flew, Farrah. Flew.”
At first the knowledge didn’t sink in. “That’s
really awesome. It was only a matter of time before you—” then it really hit her and she jerked awake and into a sitting position. “What a minute, you flew?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. I was doing my wing exercises, you know? Just sort of beating my wings, but I’m strong enough and lightweight enough that I got off the ground,” he said, still as psyched at ever.
“Holy crap, you freaking flew.” She could hardly wrap her mind around it. If Neal could fly…
“Of course, it didn’t last long,” he confessed hastily, but that obviously wasn’t keeping him down. “But I still did it!”
“Holy crap.” No other thought was formulating in her brain. It was so impossible, but Neal wouldn’t make something like this up—and he certainly wouldn’t be able to force this kind of enthusiasm into his voice if he was. “Holy crap…”
“I know! That’s why I had to call you. I knew you would get it.”
“I do, I do, I just… holy crap…”
Suddenly Neal’s energy vanished, and she thought she could feel it even through her phone. “Oh shit,” he said. “Farrah, I’m sorry. I totally spaced about your doctor’s appointment. This really isn’t what you need to hear right now.”
Yes, Farrah thought to herself as she looked at the crack in her curtains. It was definitely raining cats and dogs out there. How apropos.
“No, it’s fine. I’m wholly and truly happy for you,” she said earnestly. “Don’t get like that.”
“Get like what?”
Farrah sat up a little straighter when she heard his carefully blank tone. “Like this. You’ve completely stopped gushing about flying,” she said. “You act like just because I have a checkup today you can’t say what you want because it has something to do with my problem. Don’t be like that. I don’t care what’s going on with me, I want to know—was it hard or totally effortless, like in the movies?”
For a time Neal was silent, save for his breathing. That was the only sign that she hadn’t been hung up on. It sort of hurt to think that she might have gone over the line. And she did appreciate how accommodating he was whenever she got into a funk, but she didn’t want him hiding what he felt for her sake, either. For better or worse, she wanted him to be genuine.
After practically a minute Farrah tried, “Neal?”
“I don’t know,” he said, quiet and thoughtful. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to react.”
“Tell me about how you flew,” she urged. “I want to like these wings just as much as you do. So was it hard to do, or painful, or none of the above?”
Another pause. She was just about to urge him again when he said a mite reluctantly, “It wasn’t painful as much as a lot of work. I have never been so exhausted as I was after flying.”
“But it was fun, though, right? At least a little?”
“It was awesome, not fun.” The passion in his voice rose with his comfort level, and it made her happy to hear it. Neal shouldn’t have to hide from her. “I mean, yeah, it was only about six inches off the ground, and it lasted less than thirty seconds, but still. Nobody but me did it, and that’s fantastic, you know?”
“Yeah, I almost feel like I’m there.”
“I have to show you this. I bet I look like a dufus—but it’s flying. I have to show you.”
“I don’t think you’ll look like a dufus.” Neal never did, no matter what he was doing. “But tomorrow’s Sunday, so do you want to hang out?”
“We’ll see how this doctor thing turns out first,” he said, and when she began to protest he added, “You haven’t told your parents anything, Farrah, and you can’t get this checkup. Who knows what’ll happen after they find out? Call me afterwards, and we’ll work it out from there.” Farrah began to object again, but he said, “I’m not going to budge on this, you know. Don’t even try to make me.”
She sighed. Loudly. “Fine. But I do have everything under control. I want you to know that. I’m going to tell before we leave.”
“Mm-hm. I’ll believe that when I hear about it.” But then his whole demeanor changed. “Good luck, and don’t forget to call if you need me, okay?”
She understood why he was talking this way, but she still felt vaguely like a child on their first day of school. “I won’t,” she said anyway. “And thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll talk to you later.”
She wanted to hear his voice some more, but she let him hang up. Just as she was putting her phone back on the beside table her father opened the door to her room. He stopped when he saw her sitting up and very much awake, and in that moment Farrah was supremely thankful that it had been chilly enough for her to sleep in a hoodie last night.
“Oh good, I was just going to wake—” then he did a double take and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Geez, do you shower in those things too?” he asked, looking pointedly at her sweater.
Farrah frowned, at once entertained and disgruntled. “I was cold last night.”
He rolled his eyes, already beginning to shut her door. “Yeah yeah, just be ready in half an hour to go to the doctor’s. I’ll even be nice and drive you.”
“Ooh goody,” she muttered, playing along.
Her father only laughed and clicked the door shut.
When his footsteps faded Farrah let out a heavy, heavy breath. So much for telling him, then. She would get dressed and try again when she came downstairs.
And as she moved, sluggishly detaching herself from her bed and assembling her outfit for the day her heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s and her stomach was clenching and writhing as if in pain. Her palms were even sweaty. Just thinking about how she would talk to her parents made her throat tighten. Everywhere she looked she thought of Neal and his wings, or her own (which she hardly looked at these days). There was no relief anywhere.
She just wanted to get it over with, but somehow it wasn’t that easy. For Farrah, things like this never were.
Wanting to show her parents her wings on her own terms (at least, that was what she told herself), Farrah threw on the hoodie she had slept in and descended gingerly into the kitchen.
As if what little mass she had left would tip her parents off to what was really going on. And that was sarcasm, by the way.
When she got to the kitchen, only her father was sitting at the table. “Where’s Mom?” Farrah asked. She told herself it was because she was genuinely curious, but a private part of her whispered that it was because she wanted to procrastinate some more. “I thought she was off today.”
“She was,” her father conceded. “But you know how salaries are. They called her in.”
Farrah didn’t know personally, but as both of her parents had salaries (they were upper management at two different office buildings) she was familiar with what could happen. And being called in on your day off happened often.
“Oh yeah.” She dropped into the chair across from him. Her hands were trembling, clammier than ever and her stomach was going haywire, but she forced the words out anyway. “And, um, Dad?”
“Yeah?” Sipping a cup of coffee (Joe’s coffee, to be exact), he glanced up from where he was shuffling through the newspaper. His face looked a little scratched, as if he had shaved fifteen minutes ago. He probably had.
“I… um, I-I can’t exactly, uh, go to the-the doctor’s today.”
He finished with his drink and placed the mug on the table. When he spoke, she got a subtle impression that he had started his sentence by mimicking her on purpose, “Um, why not? I told you about it two weeks ago.”
“I know, but—I mean, I just…” She puffed air from her nose hard and gestured uselessly. “I can’t go, Dad. I really can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I—” But she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t. She was her parents’ one and only child, and she was a freak. She couldn’t blurt this out and ruin everything for them. She wanted to be the kid they deserved.
She absolutely couldn’t go to
that checkup, though.
“Because you what? Just spit it out, Farrah. Did you schedule a date with Neal or something?”
She shook her head. “No, it has nothing to do with him—I mean, not really. He is technically part of it, but he’s not the real reason I—”
“Then tell me what it really is.” Her father was getting impatient at this point. “Are you pregnant? Are you on drugs? Did you TP the doctor’s house and he saw you as you ran away? What?”
She just kept shaking her head. “None of that. It’s—it’s really… really hard to say.”
Her father leaned forward on his arms. She couldn’t tell if he was ticked off or concerned. Maybe both? “You know you can talk to me, Fare. You can tell me anything. What’s going on?”
Okay, make that seriously concerned.
Farrah leaned back a little in her chair and swallowed. She wrung her hands together under the table, shuffled her feet. Now was her chance, now was the moment she could just get it all off of her chest and let the chips fall where they may.
But what if they fell in a hostile direction? What if they fell in the Disown The Freak area? What if she got the Let’s Hate Farrah pattern?
Farrah didn’t want to know what would happen. There were too many negative possibilities.
“ I-I think it’s going to be really awkward. Do—don’t you think I’m old enough not to have to see a pediatrician anymore?” She ended up saying.
At first her father was shocked, and then exasperated. He sat back. “All that drama, just to say that? Christ, Farrah, I thought you had a real problem.”
She just sat there and took it, more ashamed and full of nerves than she could ever remember being.
“If that’s all that’s bothering you, then you’re just going to have to suck it up.”
She didn’t say anything, merely stood up and went in the fridge to look for something to eat. She ended up having Raisin Bran and a small cup of yogurt. The food had about as much taste as sawdust.
Failed. She had completely and utterly failed to tell her father about her wings. She was such a huge coward it wasn’t even funny. How was she supposed to get out of going to that doctor’s appointment if she couldn’t even formulate a reason why?
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