“It’s—”
“Do not say complicated,” I cut him off. I know that look.
“You won’t understand.” I haven’t seen him this upset since we first met. When he admits bat details that he thinks will bother me, he fidgets. Right now, he’s putting two bricks together and pulling them apart over and over. I wait.
“My Mom, Zada, I lived with her.”
“Your Dad?”
“He’s around, but …” He covers his eyes with a hand for a moment. “I only have two full-blooded siblings—my sisters. The others are half brothers and sisters. The name Zada means prosperous, and boy, did she prosper. Most females only have two or three pups.”
Fudge! David Attenborough springs to mind, but Rocks is describing his family, not some animal behavior. My room is suddenly a hell of a lot hotter.
“Pups?”
“Bat young.” His hair flops down. “We breed as bats. But without modern medicine, we’re dying out.”
Pups? Breed? If he weren’t on my bed, I would lie down. It’s so easy to forget that Rocks isn’t just a guy. He’s an animal and his colony prefers to be that way. Rocks always comforts me when I need him. Didn’t I just tell him to be himself? I take a deep breath.
“So your Mom’s remarried. That’s cool. Half the kids at school have divorced parents.”
He looks through his hair at me for a brief second. “She’s not exactly remarried and …” He sighs. “She has kids with three men, and Dad’s got another woman too.”
Holy smokes that’s one fudged up family tree. My nerves do react better to him referring to everyone in human form.
“That’s way too many surnames for one school to handle,” I joke. Mini is on the floor with the animals Rocks has built her. I silently pray she won’t interrupt this chance to find out about him.
“We don’t have surnames.” His voice is so soft.
I try to keep my eyebrows in place. They have a tendency to shoot into my hair at odd information. Rocks explains that kids are named for their father’s clan—or what they call a wing. His sisters are Celand and Graceland of the Land wing. He also talks about the Fold. It’s their council or government of sorts and they rule the wings. Of the seven Fold members, one gets voted into power—The Sire—and rules the colony. The Fold members are usually the seven strongest bloodlines from the dozens that make up the colony. Judge—the Camazotz that can drive—is a Fold member.
Bloodlines freak me out a little. The mention of blood makes me think of sucking, and I don’t want to imagine him that way. I make a mental note to really work on putting a lid on the giddy feeling I get when Rocks smiles at me. If he doesn’t belong in his world, then why would I? There is absolutely no future for us as an us.
“So why don’t you belong?” I move and sit on the end of the bed. The leftover colored blocks are separating us.
“I’m a bad example to my siblings. I’m always human. They ask questions.” Rocks flicks his hair back and stares at me. “You coping with this?”
Oh, Rocks. Don’t worry about me. “Yeah.” I reach and take one of his hands.
“I was born human.”
I’m not following. Why does he make that sound like a death sentence?
He continues, but his body language is closing up before my eyes. “We breed as bats. I’m one of three offspring alive to have been born while my mother was human. I was born a human—like my ancestors all were—but I’m judged for it. Flipping sometimes causes females to lose their young, so they stay as bats throughout pregnancy. The pups remain in bat form until around three years old.”
He explains that the shaman probably never thought past the battle. He probably thought they’d succeed and turn them all back again, but never got the chance.
I stare at Mini on the floor. His obsession with her and what she can do is finally making sense. With all those siblings, he’s never witnessed the baby years.
“I was the opposite. I didn’t learn to fly until I was three. And with so many siblings, well, my mom’s not been around much. She chooses to stay a bat like my father. I pretty much raised myself.”
I will not get upset when Kelly dotes on him ever again. He’s never known what it feels like to be coddled. Rocks. Alone. Abandoned.
A misfit.
“Mom was forced to remain human until she got pregnant again. Then I was handed around to any adult in human form—the colony leper so to speak. Zada would check in on me and get upset once I was older when I wouldn’t want to flip. That’s why I’m too skinny, well, not so much now.” He gives me a brief smile. “I only ever fed when I absolutely had to. I’ve been a disappointment my whole life. The human freak. My interest in modern ways is seen as a defection. Some of the other wings want me gone.”
“Gone?”
“Out. Away from them so I can’t gain support, but I’m determined to find a way to ensure our future.”
I need to cheer him up. I grab a paper and pen. “Draw your family tree.”
“No way. It’s too fudged up.” Rocks has adopted my allowance-guaranteed vocabulary of curse words. If Mini ever utters one single curse, I’ll never see another cent of my allowance.
“Teach me your siblings’ names. Please.” There is no way he doesn’t love them all as much as he loves Mini. “Are they all as cute as you?”
I get the smile I was hoping for as he takes the pen and paper. “I know you want to be human, but is there anything about being a bat that you love?”
Head down, he continues to work on his family tree but answers. “Flying.”
“What’s it like?”
He looks up with the biggest grin I’ve seen on him yet. “Like nothing on earth. I can’t describe the sensation of gliding high on a moonlit night and do it justice. It’s freedom. It’s heaven. It’s more fun than you can possibly imagine.” His eyes are full of sparkling life. It’s the first time I’ve seen him so animated about his Camazotz side. “The boys and I play death drop. There’s a sheer cliff face we go to and hang off the top. In unison, we drop off the edge and free fall—no wings. We just plummet down, the air whistling past us, and the last one to extend his wings is the winner.”
“Oh my God, that sounds crazy dangerous.”
He laughs. “It is. I’ve never seen Zada so angry in all my life when she caught us one night.”
“I can’t believe you play chicken.”
“Chicken? Chickens can’t fly.”
* * * * *
On Saturday night, the Bun Lovin’ Barn is dead quiet. There’s a massive football game on so Tiff and I decide to close early. I can’t let Rocks know so I wait on the steps to the van. Tiff says she’ll stay, but I wave her off.
It gives me a chance to think about the colony and his family. He told me that since he’s the first-born male to his father—his sister Celand is older but can’t be voted in—he’s expected to lead the wing in the future, but because of his human weakness, he’s a disgrace to the blood in his veins. The wings all vote, and if he’s not careful, they’ll vote him out of the colony rather than into leadership.
I would only complicate his life in ways he doesn’t need. For the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to ignore the flutters and giddy feeling Rocks ignites as he slowly opens up and shares his secrets. I haven’t wanted to name it but since the dinner party I know I’ve got feelings for him—more than ‘just friends’ feelings. But Rocks and I will never be. I’m human, and I’m not going to add to his list of problems.
“You’re done already?” His voice interrupts the conversation in my head.
I look up and—BAM. My heart has exploded and my mouth has gone dry. What was I just telling myself?
Rock is wearing a short-sleeved, blood red t-shirt. His gloriously inked arms are on display.
I want to punch the universe in the nose. Why tonight? Why now? He looks edible. The ink is black and grey with tinges of red. The pattern swirls up his arms, and I can’t decipher the design. I push aside the fact that he
has fed in order to be wearing this. He did it for me.
“Connie?” he asks, smiling. I shut my mouth.
“Hi.” I’m breathless and want to smack myself. “Your arms …”
“Surprise.” That’s an understatement. “What do you think?”
He holds both arms out straight in front of him and slowly turns them over. If you can imagine a design that hints at wrought iron filigree work found on the gates of fancy mansions and ancient stone carvings, then that’s what covers his skin. It’s hypnotic.
“Amazing. Beautiful.” He stands tall. I hate how little it takes to make Rocks’ day.
He pulls the fob from the front of his black jeans. “We have some time. Wanna dance?”
“What?”
He gestures to the club across the road, the move flicking his hair across his face.
“I’m the worst dancer.” I can’t. No. That’s not going to help my ‘Rocks is off limits’ plan.
“It’s pretty dark. Nobody will see and I’m not one to judge. My moves probably went out of style with horse-drawn carriages.”
“Haven’t you had enough for tonight?” I have an urge to sniff my armpits. I’m sure I smell of wiener and don’t look anything like the girls I see in the parking lot dressed to impress.
“Just got here. Had some colony stuff to do,” he explains. “I’m—I’m not going to be able to see you next week. My father’s asked me for help which he usually avoids at all costs. I have a responsibility to him. It will be our last time together for a bit.”
Oh, crabapples.
The club is dark, loud, and crammed to capacity. I only agreed because I was convinced I’d never get past security. Rocks bumped fists with the bouncer and announced that I was with him, and we were let through. Easy-peasy.
Thin neon tracks mark out the dance floor and bar space—both a writhing tangle of body parts. I understand how Baby felt in Dirty Dancing when she entered the staff club. My heart feels like it’s beating in the back of my throat. Are we going to dance like that? The crowd sways and pumps with the music.
Rocks blends into the dark, and I’m reminded of the night in the forest. The blue lights make my hair glow brighter than a nuclear reactor. I’d let it down to get in, but now I pull it back up into a high ponytail. Rocks takes my hand and pulls me further into the sea of gyrating bodies. We stop in the back corner, and I try not to look at what the couples lining the edge of the dance space are doing in the dark. I’m nervous enough.
Rocks turns and faces me, towering over my short frame. Leaning down, he says above the music. “Put your arms around me.”
I can’t control the shiver that runs up my body, sizzling every nerve ending with a tingle that I never want to end. He doesn’t hesitate and takes both my hands and loops them around his neck. We’re close—too close. Too close for my brain to remember we’re ‘just friends.’ His body starts a slow sway as his hands rest on my hips. I’m hyperaware of all the places our bodies are connecting right now—particularly my chest.
Parker Reed constantly talks to my breasts. I’m convinced of it although Tiff thinks I’m insane. But Rocks is different. I know I’m sensitive when it comes to the size of my chest, but in all the time we’ve hung out, I’ve never once caught him checking them out. He’s never made me feel self-conscious—until now. It’s hot. I’m hot. He sizzles under my fingers. I stop playing with the short edge of his hairline the second I realize that’s what my traitorous fingers are doing.
He pulls me closer as the tempo pounds out from hidden speakers above us, rattling my ribs. I feel the primal beat he talks about, and my mind wanders to other primal things. My chest is against his, and the feel of our bodies together is making it hard to keep my distance. The song changes, and Rocks spins me around and pulls my back to his chest. His inked arms wrap around and hold me tight. I let my fingers trail down the patterns as he uses his hips to keep me moving with him. The parts of his tattoo design that are bare skin glow gently in the blue light. I can’t stop touching him.
He bends over and I feel his breath on the exposed skin behind my ear. I should have left my hair down! I don’t know if it’s the dancing or Rocks that is driving my heart faster and out of control. All I can think about are his lips and the urge I have to spin around and climb him. Rocks can dance. Nothing about this reminds me of 1865. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he watched MTV every week to learn his moves. He’s agile. He’s graceful. And he knows how to lead.
The music changes to a calmer pace, and we slow along with the rest of the crowd. I see grinding and lazy thrusts and close my eyes to block out the sensual display that is only making everything more intense.
His nose skims the shell of my ear, and I hold my breath in anticipation.
“We better go.”
The feeling that was building inside me collapses, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
No kiss. No parking lot make-out for me. The disappointment is burning behind my eyes and tearing my chest in two.
“I could move with the beat and you in my arms all night, but I don’t want you in trouble.” His breath tickles my damp skin.
The trance I was under has lifted; I straighten up, shake off the lingering tingles and push toward the green glowing exit sign.
It’s an hour past my curfew. Somehow I’ve been sliding against Rocks for two full hours, and I thought it was just a couple of songs. He offers me his elbow, but I can’t touch him—skin-to-skin is deadly. It’s never going to be. We are never going to be. I feel stupid. I fold my arms across my chest under the pretense that I’m cold.
The cool night air is clearing my fogged up brain, but I’m still not paying attention. Thinking I’m cold, Rocks wraps his arm around my body, tucking his finger into the top of my jeans, pulling me in to share his warmth. I grit my teeth to stop the tears that threaten to spill. I need to get a grip on my emotions. I had lectured myself about not getting involved and immediately ignored my own advice. I’m acutely aware of him next to me. I don’t know if he can sense the war that is raging inside of me, but if he can, he doesn’t mention it.
Neither of us says a word for the entire walk home. On the porch, he pulls me even closer against his side and gently kisses the top of my head.
“I’ll see you when I can.” And then he’s gone.
8.
Market
I can’t shake the feeling that his parting words rang with an echo of goodbye. It’s been two weeks and no sign of Rocks. The more time that passes the kiss on my head becomes a figment of my imagination. The only consolation I have is that I’m not the only one feeling his absence.
Kelly continues to bake up a storm every Monday and Wednesday and then is left knocking on the neighbors’ doors. Tiff said if she sees another marshmallow brownie, she’s going to turn into one. The weird part for me is they simply don’t taste as good without him around. How fudged up is that? What’s happened to me? I never thought of myself as being one of those girls that gets turned upside down by some boy.
The dance club haunts me. When I close my eyes, I can almost feel his body against mine. My brain knows that we can never be together, but my heart is longing for him. I can’t deny any longer that I have feelings for Rocks—stupid, illogical, inconvenient feelings. I wanted him to kiss me so badly at the club, and the thought sends wave after wave of nausea through my system. I know why he didn’t. I’m not bat enough for that boy—and I never will be. I’ll never be able to fly on a moonlit night by his side.
Google informs me that there are half a million search results for ‘shape-shifting spells.’ Plenty of sites are claiming it’s possible. I know it’s possible, but I’m stunned that others out there are telling the world so.
My chinchilla, Feathers, jumps from my desk onto my shoulder. I tickle behind her ear while scrolling down the pages. Entry after entry mention this is dark magic and to stay away. But if there really was a way to make Rocks just a boy …
“Oh, Feathers, this is crazy!�
�� She squeaks in my ear. “I can’t imagine finding another guy that understands me the way he does. He gets my need for answers and supports me—no question.”
I pick her up and stare into her adorable little face just inches from the end of my nose. “Don’t bad boys get the girls? Who knew the sweet one with the kindest soul and most generous heart would steal mine.” I glance at the door before whispering, “And as clichéd as this sounds, that little shy smile makes me totally weak at the knees.”
At night, I stare at the family tree he drew. It’s stuck on my wall—a reminder that he is real. I wonder about his father and the responsibility he said he couldn’t ignore. I have no idea if he’s ever mentioned me, or if the colony thinks that the aeronaught who crashed their forest festival is long gone. Any food I consume sits in a lump in my stomach. I try not eating as much, but it doesn’t help.
I think about secrets—their cause and effect. I’m keeping secrets so I have no right to expect Rocks not to keep secrets too. It’s just that I’m pretty sure that I’m his secret. That hurts. Yet, I understand. It leads me to think about my parents—not my biological parents—but the ones that on a good day I can’t help but love and on a bad day I’m still annoyed at for lying. How would they feel if they knew the secret that I’m holding deep inside? I guess they’d be disappointed, just like I am in them for turning my adoption into a secret.
Nights are the worst. As darkness sets in my mind imagines slinking shadows, winged creatures, moving bodies, and spilt blood. I toss and turn and confuse myself. I don’t know what to think or feel anymore because all I know is that I’m a traitor. I’m lying to people who love me, and the sooner I get some answers, the sooner the lies can stop. I need to focus on finding my real parents with or without Rocks. My anger is the only thing helping me distance myself from those two and I’m exhausted. I just want the truth and to hopefully return to my old life of a carefree teenager.
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