Sure, Sarah sneered at high school royalty like anyone else who wasn’t invited into their exclusive club. Unlike the rest of the serfs, she never expected to forget how much she hated them and become a bumbling, adoring fool if one of them ever chose to pay attention to her.
So why couldn’t she stop staring at Harper? She didn’t understand it, and as she watched her now, whispering with Tyler, she was upset with her. Not because of anything Harper had actually done, but because of how looking at Harper made her feel. It was there again, that pull she’d felt since the first time she’d seen her, heard her voice, and good God, looked into those brilliant green eyes. When Harper had run into her, she’d knocked the wind out of her. Twice.
Sarah had seen green eyes before, but looking into Harper’s as she lay on top of her was like gazing into a sea of emeralds. They were unequivocally the prettiest eyes that she had ever seen. She had been embarrassed to find herself searching them and quickly made like she wanted Harper off of her. She had been surprised by how discomfited Harper was about the whole thing. She’d blushed and apologized and looked around as if she wanted to be anywhere but stuck in that moment with her. Who wouldn’t? To say she wasn’t popular was a gross understatement.
She wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made the other kids pick on her, but whatever it was, she had an extravagant amount of it. She knew she wasn’t gorgeous, but she didn’t think she was horrible either. She had blonde hair that behaved if she put effort into it—which she generally didn’t—and she wasn’t overweight or anything. Physically speaking, her best feature was probably her eyes, but she’d never much cared about looks. Besides, nice eyes were something a person either had or didn’t have, not something she could take credit for. No boys had ever seemed interested in her, and she’d never dressed or tried to look good for them either. Instead, she’d always done what made her feel good, which was likely the root of the problem, as her brother had told her.
“Does anyone have anything they’d like to add to Harper’s comment?” Ms Cox looked around, and her gaze settled on Tyler and Harper, who were still whispering in the front row. “Tyler?” she asked. “Have you anything to add? Surely you and Ms Isabelle are discussing the book, and not whispering in my class?”
Tyler had the good grace to laugh at himself. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer,” he said. He didn’t add anything to the conversation about the book, because he hadn’t read most of it yet. He’d told Sarah that much on their walk to school that morning. Ms Cox smiled at his self-deprecation and moved on, looking for another hand to rise.
Tyler, unlike Sarah, was effortlessly popular. It didn’t make sense to her. They were twins, yet he could make friends like he was giving away candy, and she hadn’t one to her name. Why was everything that came so easily to Tyler, so difficult for her? Blessings, friends, the support of her parents; Tyler was flush with them. Here he was, talking to Harper Isabelle like it was the easiest thing in the world. She tried not to care. Teenagers were stupid anyway. They cared about stupid things and acted like complete idiots. The majority of Tyler’s friends liked to drink away their brain cells, and started having sex before high school. She thought it was disgusting, and not just because none of them wanted to have it with her. The idea of having sex with a boy was gross, and part of her was happy that she didn’t have to put up with someone expecting it from her.
Still, she’d always hated girls like Harper. Girls who were gorgeous and popular without even trying. She was angry that those girls had the ability to make her feel so small and insignificant. In high school, if you weren’t a deity, then you were a sniveling subject. She knew she would never be a goddess like Harper, and she resented the fact that she should be expected to grovel before people like her and Tyler for the rest of her life. What she hated most about Harper, but could not admit to herself was, after her first personal encounter with her, she didn’t hate her at all. She wanted to, but just couldn’t.
Harper wore makeup in the adult way. Instead of caking on layers of eyeshadow and lipstick just to prove she was old enough to wear it, like a lot of kids at their school did, Harper used it sparingly to highlight her flawless face. Sarah used makeup almost as a disguise, war paint meant to mask her feelings from the outside world. How different they were.
She had been so brazen that first day, talking to Harper as if she was nobody at the school. She’d seen her several times since then, but hadn’t dared speak to her, even if Harper had told her she could say hi when she saw her. She should have been insulted at Harper’s words, and she hated that, instead, she’d been flattered. As if school wasn’t bad enough, now it had to be confusing too.
Despite Ms Cox’s admonishment, Tyler leaned over and whispered again to Harper. Sarah couldn’t wait for class to be over so she could run to art. It was the only part of school that was bearable. Schools had access to so many different types of media that Sarah couldn’t get her parents to buy for her at home. Whenever she asked for a new set of oil paints or money for canvasses, they asked if she wouldn’t rather go to a movie with friends or use the money to buy a ticket to the next church social. As the minister, her father seemed to think everything his children did should revolve around their faith. Without a social life of her own, Sarah more often than not fell into that role.
“What’s another major theme in the book?” Ms Cox roved the class again. Thankfully, she did not call on her. Harper raised her hand this time. Ms Cox pointed to her. “Yes, Harper?”
“Racism, for sure.”
“That’s right.” Ms Cox wrote the word on the whiteboard. “There’s also a strong theme here of social inequality.” Those words soon joined the other on the board. “Of things not being fair for some of the characters, while others enjoy privileges they haven’t earned.”
Sarah’s father always said, “Fair is fair.” Whatever that meant. Nothing about her life was fair. Her parents didn’t understand anything. The kids at school hated her. Her brother’s popularity was a constant, mocking reminder of what an outcast she was. Social inequality didn’t even begin to explain her life. Whatever genetic defect she had, her twin brother should have inherited it as well, but it seemed, when they split, Tyler got all the good, leaving her with the shit.
“What do you think is the most important lesson from the book, Harper?” Ms Cox asked. It was clear she’d found her favourite student. God, was there anyone Harper couldn’t captivate?
“I think Sarah said it best. It’s about the mockingbirds. Not to judge people you don’t know, because appearances can be deceiving, and people aren’t always what we assume them to be.”
Sarah hadn’t said that at all. Sure, she’d wanted to, but since when could she articulate herself in public that way? Why was Harper giving her the credit? Nothing about this girl made any sense to her, and as the class drew to a close, she kept replaying and replaying that incident from their first day, where she’d landed underneath Harper, and for one moment in time, those amazing eyes had seen only her.
* * *
As she made her way home from school, leaves crunched loudly under her All Stars. Sarah liked the sound they made and sought out the crispest ones to stomp. Tyler was at football tryouts where he was sure to become a starter in the Panthers lineup. After a particularly satisfying crunch, she heard a group of guys laughing. Happy they weren’t laughing at her, she continued stomping along the sidewalk until she heard another noise she couldn’t quite identify.
She stopped and cocked her head to the side to listen. It sounded like the fluttering of wings. Hearing the laughter again, she hesitated. It was definitely wings. Something wasn’t right; she knew that, but was she willing to get in the middle of it? Before she could fully make up her mind, a thud and a squawk prompted Sarah to act. She rushed in the direction of the sound to find four guys, students from school, standing between a chain link fence and an old brick apartment building. They were hunched over looking at something. One of them picked up a pigeon f
rom the trashcan and threw it to one of his buddies like a football. Her stomach heaved. When the other boy caught it, the bird struggled to fly away. He dropped it to the ground.
“Stop it!” Sarah charged in.
One of them turned around at the sound of her voice. “Oh, what do we have here?”
“L-l-let it go.” Sarah’s voice cracked.
“You going to make me?” A boy with longish brown hair approached her. He was a senior. They all were.
“J-just leave it alone.” The bird was trying to escape, but it couldn’t spread one of its wings.
“I-I-I don’t think so.” The boy mimicked her and sniggered. “What are you going to do about it, loser?”
Sarah stumbled backward and her knees began to wobble. She tried to turn, but he grabbed her schoolbag and ripped it away from her. When she reached for it, he threw it to one of his friends.
“Give it back,” she pleaded.
He tossed it again. This time, it opened mid-air, dropping the contents onto the ground. Sarah blinked away the sting of tears behind her eyes. She did not want them to see her cry. She turned to run out of the alley and collided with someone. The person stumbled back a step, but kept her footing and held Sarah up as well.
“Are you okay?” Harper studied her, her eyes clouded with concern. She turned her attention to the guys. “What the hell is going on?”
“That’s Bronte Isabelle’s sister,” one of them muttered to the others.
“Get out of here!” Harper firmly held onto Sarah’s arms and watched the boys over Sarah’s shoulder as they left. Harper’s hand trembled slightly. Sarah turned back to watch as they reluctantly cleared the alley. She bowed her head when each one of them shot her a menacing look. Harper stared them down. “Are you okay?” Harper asked her again once the guys were gone.
Sarah stepped out of Harper’s arms and ran back into the alley, as much to check on the bird as to get away from Harper. Since there was little it could do to stop her, the pigeon allowed Sarah to pick it up.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed. Harper approached her from behind and peered over her shoulder. Sarah pointed at the disheveled grey, blue, and white feathers. “I think its wing is broken.”
“Yeah, looks like it,” Harper said. Sarah glanced over her shoulder. Harper’s brow was drawn down and she stared at Sarah rather than looking at the bird. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Um, yeah.” Sarah swallowed. “Thank you.” She managed to say it without stuttering. Of all the people to find her getting picked on, she really wished it hadn’t been Harper Isabelle. “They were t-tossing him around a-and…” She looked away, embarrassed by her stutter.
“You were standing up for this little guy?” Harper used her index finger to rub the top of the bird’s head gingerly. It closed its eyes slowly, relaxing into Sarah’s arms. “He’s lucky you came along.”
I’m lucky you came along. Sarah knew how close she’d been to being in real trouble.
“I was walking across the street and heard yelling.”
So, Harper had heard raised voices and just decided to see what the problem was? Sarah would love to feel that kind of confidence. She shook her head and looked at the bird. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.” Harper shrugged. “I’ve never had a bird before. Have you?”
“No. I don’t just want to leave it though.”
“We won’t leave it.”
We? Sarah hadn’t had a partner in anything since she and Tyler split in the womb.
“Let me get your things.” Harper gestured to the contents of her backpack, scattered out on the ground. Sarah wanted to stop her, but with the bird in her hands there was little she could do about it.
“You don’t have to do that.” Sarah’s cheeks flushed with shame.
“Nonsense.” Harper gathered her things and stuffed them back in the bag. When she came to her sketchbook, she paused. Sarah started to tell her not to open it, but it was too late. She held her breath as Harper flipped through the pages. Harper looked up at her. “These are really good,” she said with awe. “Like, really good,” she emphasized. “You have a great talent.”
“Thank you.” It felt incredibly personal for Harper to look at her work, as if she’d opened up her diary and started reading through the pages. She looked down at the bird, searching for anything else to talk about. “Do you think we can fix his wing?”
Harper seemed to get the hint and put Sarah’s sketchbook back in her bag with her other things. Once everything was packed up, she swung it over her own shoulder instead of handing it to Sarah. She looked at the wing thoughtfully. “Do you think we’ll hurt him if we try?”
Sarah looked at the poor bird. “I don’t know, maybe, but I can’t just leave him here.”
“Let’s go over to the field by the ravine. We can see if we can do anything for him. If we can’t, at least we can get him into the woods where he’ll be safe from those assholes.”
The bird didn’t try to get away as they walked out of the alley and down the path beside their school. They were headed away from the main building, toward the ravine that led to a wooded area. Sarah kept a slow pace so as not to startle the pigeon, and Harper didn’t protest her speed.
“That was really brave of you, you know?” Harper hiked both their schoolbags higher up on her shoulder.
Sarah shrugged. “You don’t have to carry that.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She wasn’t going to argue with Harper. “How do you think we should do this?” They were nearing the dense, riparian woods.
Harper looked at the bird thoughtfully. “I guess we could see what his good wing looks like, and then see if we can make the other one look the same?”
Sarah winced. It could work, but on the other hand, it could make things worse. “What if we hurt him?”
Harper looked off into the distance, as if the woods could bring some inspiration. The sun illuminated the honey gold highlights in her hair, and she squinted her gorgeous green eyes against it.
She’s so beautiful.
“I don’t know what else to do.” Harper’s voice brought her back to attention.
She was right. If they left him like he was, he’d be vulnerable not just to assholes but to the wildlife in the woods as well. She nodded. Surprisingly, Harper seemed to be waiting for her approval.
She leaned over Sarah’s arms, gently took the bird’s good wing in her hand, and slowly spread out its feathers. The bird shifted a little but didn’t try to fly away. Sarah worried he was getting worse the longer they waited. When Harper tentatively did the same with the other wing, the bird allowed Harper to do it. The bones jutted out differently, looking more like branches and bramble than a proper wing. Queasiness bubbled up in Sarah’s stomach.
“It’s okay,” Harper spoke softly to the bird. “We’re going to fix you right up.”
“What are you going to do?” Sarah’s voice was filled with fear and awe, even to her own ears.
“I’m going to try to make the bones in this wing match the other.”
Sarah’s stomach lurched when Harper deftly shifted the broken parts of the bird’s wing back into place. To the bird’s credit, it didn’t squirm or even try to peck at them. “There,” Harper whispered warmly.
The bird spread its wings and fluttered them. A moment later, it hopped out of Sarah’s hands and landed on the grass at their feet. “I think you did it.” Sarah smiled.
Harper kneeled and gave the bird a skeptical look. It flew a short distance and landed on the grass again. “I hope I didn’t make it worse.”
“No, I don’t think so. He couldn’t even spread that wing before,” Sarah said, to reassure herself as much as Harper.
“Yeah?” Harper glanced up, a hopeful look in her eyes.
“Yeah.” Sarah met Harper’s gaze, and they grinned at each other. When she heard another flutter, she regretfully looked away. The bird was about ten feet from them and on the
verge of taking flight again. “I think he’s going to be okay now. You saved his life.”
Harper shook her head. “You did. He’s lucky you were there.” Before Sarah could answer, a whistle blew in the background from the football field. Harper checked her watch. “Shit, I have to run. I’ll…I’ll see you around.”
Sarah stood there for a long time, an unfamiliar feeling pitted in her stomach as she watched Harper walk away. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves from the incident in the alleyway, awe at watching Harper play vet, or because Harper had been brave enough to come to her rescue, but something about Harper Isabelle stirred something inside Sarah.
* * *
Ms Cox instructed them to finish reading chapter sixteen of To Kill a Mockingbird, and Harper sighed and lazily leafed through the pages. Harper had read it before since she was named for the author. So had Sarah, but she’d never given any thought to how beautiful the writer’s name was until it was attached to the girl sitting three seats in front of her.
She’d been disappointed that morning when Harper wasn’t at her locker at the same time Sarah was. It was an odd feeling, but she wanted to see Harper again. Sarah had rearranged her books over and over as she stared at Harper’s locker, worried Harper might not be at school that day. For some reason, that possibility disappointed her. The whole thing was unsettling. What did she care if Harper Isabelle was in class or not? Harper should mean as little to Sarah as Sarah clearly did to her. Still, when she got to English and Harper was already in her seat, Sarah felt relieved.
Partway through class, her brother leaned over and whispered something to Harper. Tyler was rewarded with a soft chuckle. Tyler had always been great at talking to girls. He looked older than he was, had already lost his virginity, and had gone pretty far with at least two other girls over the summer. He was a great brother, but he was fast with girls. Sarah was acutely aware of how uncomfortable the laugh he’d elicited from Harper made her, but that didn’t keep her from leaning forward on the edge of her seat in an effort to hear their whispered conversation.
The Space Between Page 3