“I come bearing gifts,” she announced, pulling the fruit and chimichanga out of her backpack.
“Yes! Thank you so much, Fare,” Ruby gushed, visibly forgetting what she had been talking about. “I’ve been starving!”
“Oh man, you should have heard her stomach,” said Gerry. Then he seemed to catch himself. “Or did you?”
Farrah laughed as Ruby frowned and shoved at him.
“It was not that loud,” she said, but there was an unmistakably flirtatious quality to her dialogue. Farrah didn’t even think Ruby realized it, but from an outsider’s perspective her friend’s feelings were blatant.
Fortunately, Gerry just grinned and pretended like her push had hurt him. “I beg to differ,” he said. “You made the ground shake with the last one.”
“I did not!” But then her stomach growled, and loudly at that. To Ruby’s credit, it did not shake the ground like the bass at a party, but it wasn’t at usual belly-rumble volume, either.
“Just eat your breakfast, Rube,” she said, sitting at her other side and waving amiably at a passing classmate.
Ruby was already ripping open the tin foil on the chimichanga. “You don’t need to tell me,” she muttered on an afterthought.
Gerry cheerily hailed a peer before looking at the chimichanga as if he had never seen one before. He leaned forward to see Farrah more clearly. “Really? A burrito for breakfast?”
“One, it’s a chimichanga—and before you say, there is a difference,” she said, holding up her hand as he opened his mouth. “And don’t tell me that you haven’t eaten worse for breakfast. You’re a teenage guy, you have to.”
He chuckled and admitted, “Yeah, a little bit.”
“Have a good weekend, Farrah?” Shellie deadpanned as she passed.
“Eh.” She shrugged. “It was so-so. Yourself?”
“Same. See you around.”
“Yeah, sure thing.”
When Shellie passed Farrah pinned her friend’s almost-boyfriend down with a look. “Just a little bit? I smell bullshit, Ger.”
He laughed again, and Ruby said through a mouthful of chimichanga, “You’re not kidding.”
“Farrah! Gerrod! Ruby! Morning’!” said a jolly passerby, walking with her books resting in the crook of her arm and her bangs falling into her eyes.
Gerry and Farrah said their usual greetings, but Ruby was so engrossed in her food that she hardly took the time to wave. The girl didn’t seem offended, however, and merely wished them a good day as she continued on.
It was nice, Farrah thought, not to be surrounded by wing-talk.
“Hey,” said Farrah. “It’s just occurred to me that I haven’t seen hide or hair of Michael all weekend. Where is he?”
This time Ruby swallowed before answering, “Probably making out with Bianca Zahalka somewhere. I wouldn’t try looking for him.”
That was certainly a surprise. “What? Seriously?” Yeah, she knew that they still cared about each other, but she hadn’t really thought they would actually see that and get back together. Especially not this late in the year.
“Yeah. Happened over the weekend.”
Oh, no wonder it was news to her. With the weekend she’d had, she wouldn’t have heard anything even if she listened. “It’s about time. Good for them,” she said instead.
“Tell me about it.” At that point Ruby had run out of chimichanga (it hadn’t been that big to begin with), and stared at the aluminum somewhat mournfully. “God, who knew microwave food could taste so good?”
Gerry snorted, then covered his mouth and averted his eyes. Inwardly, Farrah rolled hers a little bit. She hoped she and Neal weren’t this bad, because this sort of behavior tended to get old fast for everyone that wasn’t doing it.
“Hey, did you see the news about those experiments over the weekend?” Gerry asked her as Ruby started on the nectarine.
Well, so much for no more wing-talk.
“Yeah, but the way I see it, it’s like Michael Jackson’s death all over again: way too over-publicized,” she said frankly. While she did believe that, she was hoping that he would get the hint and drop the subject more.
If Gerry’s intrigued expression meant anything, then she had no such luck. She hadn’t been very optimistic to begin with. This behavior was—unfortunately—characteristic of him. He was going to dissect this until there was nothing left to discuss, whether she helped him or not.
“I see what you’re saying, but I guess what I’m asking is what you personally think was going through that guy’s head as he did those experiments. I mean, that sounds weird, but seriously. What do people like that think, in your opinion?”
Times like these made Farrah wonder if more people would be on her side instead of against it if they ever found out she was an accidental experiment. Perhaps she was a sympathy-worthy freak, instead of a menace to society.
Actually, the term freak didn’t exactly feel right either. Farrah didn’t quite know how to describe herself anymore. She didn’t want to lose her wings after all she had been through with them—it would be like everything had happened for no reason—but at the same time she had no idea how she could try living a normal life with them, either. To be frank, nothing she thought of felt right.
She briefly considered brushing Gerry’s question off. It would probably look suspicious, for one, and even if she tried to deflect it he would probably keep pursuing the subject anyway, just because he was like that.
She couldn’t win, really. “I have no idea what a person like that thinks,” she said. “Maybe he was obsessed with birds, maybe he thought he was doing something good. Who knows?”
To her private dismay, Gerry took her response to heart and contemplated it for several seconds. Then, “I think it’s more obsession than anything. I mean, what purpose would wings serve, anyway? If you think about it like that, it doesn’t make sense.”
This reminded her of a conversation she had once had with Neal. It had been a while ago, though, so she couldn’t remember the details. “That’s true. But you never know what people like that think,” she said, almost physically itching to change the subject.
“That’s a good point.”
He visibly wanted to expand on that, but Ruby interjected before he could, “Well I think the animal’s he experimented on didn’t deserve it.” She wrapped the nectarine pit in the tin foil. “The whole situation is unfair bullshit.”
That said, she stood up and went to throw the remnants of her breakfast into the nearest trash can. She had probably intended to sound so passionate, too, and the support made Farrah want to hug her. It she could explain how much things like that touched her…
“She’s been saying that ever since she heard about the bust,” Gerry told her, thoroughly unimpressed. “It’s all she’ll say about it, actually.”
“No wonder you were quizzing me,” said Farrah. So maybe she had been conceited to think that response was all for her. Ruby, she remembered, had always had a soft spot for animals.
“Yeah, a little bit.”
Holding the edge of the wall with both hands and leaning forward some, Farrah quirked an eyebrow at him. “I have no problems calling you on your understatements, Gerry,” she said.
He laughed and said sheepishly, “Okay, I just wanted another female’s opinion on it. I can’t help it.”
That was when Ruby plopped down on the wall between them. “Has anyone seen any decent movies lately?” she said with something that sounded like genuine interest, though Farrah could see that she was trying to change the subject. “Because I’ve been, like, pretty put out by the selection at the theatres these days.”
“Yeah, me too.” Farrah said it, but in reality her mind was still on Ruby’s slightly protective behavior. This wasn’t all for her, but it wasn’t only for the sake of the animals either, and that was—to put it simply—touching. If Farrah could hold on to friends like this, today would be easy. She would be able to get through anything.
Ch
apter 16It was prom night. Farrah had been simultaneously dreading and excitedly anticipating it. Of course, she still wasn’t going to the actual prom, but it was going to be a momentous occasion all the same. Ruby had already texted a picture of her posing with Gerry, all dolled up. They looked great together, almost like a pair of movie stars.
Bianca had also stolen Michael’s phone and texted her a picture with a ‘wish you were coming too!’ Really, for all her attempts to go punk/goth (and she had definitely gone punk/goth princess with this prom dress, whereas Michael looked slightly out of place next to her in his classic tux) she was still the same bubbly person she had always been.
Farrah had gotten several dozen other texts besides, messages and pictures both, but those two were the ones that mattered the most to her. It made her happy that her friends were happy.
She didn’t want to be with them tonight, though; she had other plans, and if she did it right things would be as good as or better than prom.
At least, that was what she hoped.
“No, I’ve got to run some errands,” she was saying into her cell phone. “My dad will pick you up and bring you over, and then I should be there within, like, five minutes.”
“Don’t go out of your way for me like that. I can be ready to go now, so I can just run errands with you. What do you have to do?”
“Oh, I’m already out. Just take the ride, Neal, and bring movies.” Of course, Farrah said this as she crossed the kitchen and bent down to checked the food in the oven, but he didn’t need to know that.
Neal was quiet, thinking the situation over. “I don’t know, Fare. I mean, yeah, it’s prom night and all, but if things are too hectic for you we can reschedule, you know? No rush.”
Her back immediately went rod-straight, and concern knitted her brows. “Why would you say that? Did something come up?” she asked.
“No—no, no. Nothing like that.” He had obviously picked up on her new demeanor. “But if you’re so busy and are just going to be tired when you get back you don’t need me pestering—”
“We made plans, I’m not going back on them—besides.” At that she pitched her voice to something that was guaranteed to guilt trip him. “This is supposed to be our first real date, sort of. I was looking forward to it.”
“It’s only watching movies in your living room, Farrah.”
“So?” she said pointedly, slumping against the counter next to the oven and crossing her ankles. She didn’t care how hard she had to fight for it, he had to agree to this.
Neal made a noise between a sigh and a snort of amusement. “Okay, okay, I just feel bad that your dad has to pick me up, that’s all,” he said, but it didn’t really sound like he thought it was such a big sacrifice anymore.
Farrah smiled. “Good. My dad will be there at 6:30,” she said. “And he’s the punctual sort, too, remember. I’ll see you around then.”
“Okay, I’ll see you.”
They hung up as her father came into the kitchen, sniffing obnoxiously. “What are you making? I can’t tell, but whatever it is, it smells good.”
“Stuffed eggplant. I’m trying something a little different,” she replied, pushing her cell phone into the pocket of her jeans.
“Oh, got to love eggplant,” he said as he peeked into the oven to see for himself. “What did you put in it?”
“Some chicken, bell peppers, a little bit of garlic and basil—”
The oven shut and he snapped up. “Never mind. Don’t tell me anymore.”
“What?” she asked with a grin. “Does it sound good?”
“Hell yeah it does. And I’m even eating out tonight—speaking of which, Neal knows I’m picking him up at 6:30, not 6:00?”
“Yep.” She went over to the refrigerator and opened it, hummed and tapped her foot with a small frown. “Hey, what do you think I should have with it? I mean, pretty much everything for a complete meal is inside the eggplant, but I just feel like I should have more, you know what I mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said, walking up to look over her shoulder. “Can’t go wrong with a salad, I guess.”
She groaned and shut the fridge. “Salads are so generic. I want something a little more original.”
“Make dessert, then,” said her mother as she strode into the room. “And stop fretting.”
“I’m not fretting, I just want—”
“—Everything to be perfect, and you hate that it’s not. That’s fretting,” she said coolly, also checking on food in the oven.
“I have to say, Fare-bear,” her father remarked, leaning on the counter much the way she had done not five minutes ago. “You’re really making this into a huge deal.”
“I know, but that’s the point. I just—” she sighed, unable to get the words out. “It’s supposed to be a big deal, trust me.”
“Wouldn’t leave you alone with this boy if we didn’t,” said Tracy O’Brien, closing the oven again.
“Mom, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Her mother acted as if she hadn’t heard that as she left the room (had she really only come in to check on the eggplant?). Farrah heard her ascend the steps, and figured that she was probably going to get ready to leave. She was still currently in her weekend clothes, which Farrah knew would not cut it if she wanted to leave the house.
Her father, who was already mostly dressed, smiled at her warmly. “She means that, though; we both do.”
“I know, and it’s really, really cool of you guys to let me do this. You already know how much I appreciate it.” And if they didn’t from the way she had gushed and profusely thanked them when they had initially okay’d the idea then Farrah wouldn’t know how else to express herself.
The smile grew. “Yeah, but sometimes it’s nice to be told that we trust you, isn’t it?” he said.
She considered that briefly, and then said, “It does. But that still doesn’t help me figure out what to have with this eggplant.”
*****
By the time her father’s car rolled up and exchanged Neal for her mother Farrah had pretty much figured everything out. At least, she hoped she had, because if she hadn’t then she was screwed. There was no time for her to waste anymore.
“Bye Mom,” she said, kissing her mother on the cheek before the woman clacked out the door in her perfume and heels. Tracy O’Brien had contributed the Hispanic/Chinese part of Farrah’s heritage, so she was a little on the short side. The heels made up for that, though; she was nearly as tall as Farrah with them, and definitely prettier.
Naturally, her mother did not offer a verbal reply; she only offered a backwards, half-assed wave. Farrah wasn’t expecting much else. Not from her mother.
He hadn’t even reached the door and she could see how confused Neal was. He responded somewhat belatedly to her mother’s brisk, “Hello Neal” as she brushed past, and his eyebrows drew together tightly when he reached Farrah and saw what she had recently changed into herself.
Not that Farrah blamed him. She was wearing a skirt and blouse better suited for going to a fairly fancy restaurant. Not as fancy as the one her parents were going to, grant, but definitely more upscale than Denny’s, for example.
Her wings were also out and flexing for the world to see, which she knew would really threw him off.
“I have absolutely no idea what to make of all this,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he halted on the door step. The DVDs were in his hands and he was wearing the Led Zeppelin hoodie he’d had on the first time she met him at Joe’s Joe. His hair was a little disheveled, like he hadn’t taken the time to brush it today, and his jeans were well worn, but in all honesty Farrah didn’t care. He was still as handsome as ever.
Playing it cool, she offered only a shameless little shrug as she let him in and shut the door behind him. “I might have fudged a couple things about tonight,” she admitted.
“Nah, I couldn’t have guessed.” That part came out a mite sarcastically, but the next didn’t. “I thoug
ht we were going to be watching movies.”
“We still can, if you want.”
“Yeah, but that.” He gestured at her outfit with his movie-free hand. “What’s that for?”
Now Farrah wasn’t so confident anymore. “What? Does it look bad?” She had thought she looked good, but maybe there was a stain or a nasty wrinkle that she hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it had totally ruined her appearance. She glanced down at herself, tugged her blouse out to inspect it. Still nothing, as far as she could see.
He touched one of her hands, subsequently stilling them both. The expression on his face very clearly told her that he didn’t think this was funny. “If I complained I wouldn’t be heterosexual,” Neal said frankly. “I just don’t get where all of this is coming from.”
Perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be, but Farrah took that as flattery and warmed accordingly. “Thanks.”
At first he looked at her as if he expected more of a response, but then he sniffed. “Wow, what is that smell?” And all of a sudden his eyes snapped back at her, comprehension very prominent. “You didn’t.”
Farrah made sure to keep her body language innocent and blank. This was entertaining and kind of annoying at the same time. “I didn’t what?” she said, playing dumb.
“Really? You seriously did all of this?” Neal couldn’t seem to believe his senses.
“What did I do?”
She thought she saw his wings shifting beneath his hoodie, but she couldn’t tell why. “I-I don’t even know what to say. This—this… Really?” He looked at her in utter disbelief.
“Um, is that good really or a bad really?” she had to ask, because she was more than a little thrown off at this point.
Then, quite without warning, Neal hugged her. Farrah hugged back, of course, but it took a moment for her to get her bearings.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he said, tracing the bottom tips of her wings with slow, contemplative hands—not just his fingers, but his whole palm—and causing her to shiver in sensitivity. “But you’ve got to know that I appreciate it, no matter the reason.”
Matters of Circumstance Page 16