Skyward

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “They choose to stay.”

  When Brady looked back, puzzled, Lijah shook his head. “That’s what I mean exactly. Birds of prey ain’t the same as the rest of the birds. You can’t just train raptors. They ain’t like dogs neither. Those animals want to please. Not raptors. They be proud and independent. That being their nature, you can’t go demanding obedience from them. Can’t do that with a child, neither. All you can do is ask.”

  Brady listened, feeling the words take root in his heart. At sixteen years old, he’d had enough of people making him jump when they said jump.

  “That’s why,” Lijah concluded, “to work with raptors, you first have to be humble.”

  “Humble?” he asked, confused.

  “That’s the truth,” Lijah confirmed with a solemn nod. “And that be a hard, hard lesson for a man to learn. With a raptor, you’re never the master. You’re the student. You have to learn the ways of the hawk. To learn the spirit of the hawk.” He raised his hand to indicate Harris and the falcon out on the field. “This time, son, open your eyes and watch what’s really going on out yonder. Harris ain’t just training that falcon. He working with her. Watching her, so she don’t get tired. Watching the sky, so he don’t put her in danger. Al ways watching, ’cause he cares. Now watch out there. They learning to be partners.”

  Lijah looked at Brady for a long moment, as though to make sure the message got through.

  “Yeah, okay. I get it,” Brady said, meaning it.

  Lijah’s eyes glowed with satisfaction. He turned his snowy white head again to watch Harris and the falcon. Brady had questions bursting at his lips that he wanted to ask, but he’d been around Lijah long enough to know when it was time to be quiet. So he bided his time and joined Lijah in watching the next exercise, hoping that this time he’d get a better understanding of what it was that stirred his blood so.

  In the field, Harris set the gorgeous, sleek feathered falcon on the perch. Risk shook her tail feathers, ringing the affixed bell, then quickly settled into place. Maggie stood close by.

  Harris moved into position farther away. This time, however, he didn’t begin swirling the lure. Instead, he whistled, high and clear. The falcon spread her wide wings and with a burst of speed, climbed effortlessly to a good pitch in the sky.

  Brady raised his face and watched with amazement as the falcon circled two times, a beautiful silhouette against a cerulean sky. Once again, Brady felt his blood race and his heart quicken. It seemed the falcon was waiting on a cue.

  Then it came.

  “Ho!” called Harris, and simultaneously he shot out the lure.

  The falcon circled back and, in a dramatic plunge, shot from the air straight for the lure. The feet came forward, ready for the grab.

  But with split-second timing, Harris pulled back the lure just before the falcon could grab it. He swung it around again, keeping it close to the ground. Risk passed, then caught a lift of air and shot back up into the sky. Harris turned smoothly around, eyes on the falcon, and shot the lure out again. He moved seamlessly, slowly extending the distance of the line, each time allowing Risk to get within inches of the lure before pulling it back again, sometimes bringing the lure close to the ground, sometimes circling it backward over his head. Each time the falcon circled, then stooped, streaking across the sky for the lure. The two shared a dance of incredible skill, daring and speed.

  Brady watched, transfixed.

  After a few more passes, Harris slowed the swing and Risk caught the lure in her feet, bringing it to the ground.

  “Good girl,” Harris murmured approvingly as the falcon stepped up to the fist. Harris’s exhilaration was evident on his face.

  With the session over, Lijah walked directly over to them. Brady lagged behind, watching the two men talk for a while. Lijah must have said something about him because Harris turned his head to search him out, then turned back to Lijah, nodding.

  Brady sauntered over to join the men with his heart in his throat. Harris always made him nervous. Probably because he was the boss. But in his heart, he knew it was more than that. There was something unspoken between them, a challenge, that they both felt. Brady didn’t know why, but it was there, and they were both trying to deal with it.

  Harris looked up as he approached, and Brady caught something different in his gaze this time. Less antagonism. He drew near with apprehension.

  “Lijah tells me you were pretty taken with what you saw,” Harris said to him.

  “Yeah, I liked it okay.”

  “Interested in learning more about it?”

  Brady’s face lost its customary passiveness as his eyes brightened. “Sure.”

  “As you know, we’re short on volunteers. Maggie could use some help with the resident birds. They need feeding and their pens need cleaning. But they also need exercise.” He paused, considering. “You’d have a lot to learn.”

  Brady couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you asking me if I’d like to work with these birds?”

  Harris seemed hesitant. “First off, you’d have to do it on your own time. As a regular volunteer. You’d still be working with Lijah for your community service. Cleaning and maintaining the grounds. That would have to remain the same.”

  “Sure. Okay, I don’t mind.”

  “You’d have to come in another day. That’d be three times a week.”

  “Yeah, fine,” he said, his enthusiasm ringing in his voice. “I don’t care. I would’ve volunteered already but I didn’t think you’d let me.”

  Harris held back his smile until he swung his head around to look at Lijah. Then he let it blossom across his face. “Well, I guess you were right about this guy.”

  “Yessir. I’m always right.”

  Harris laughed and looked again at Brady. “Lijah here seems to think you’ve got the making of a first-class falconer. Now, that is a real compliment. I’ve been around raptors all my life and I’m of the mind that it’s not something that just anyone can learn. Either you’re born with the gift, plain and simple—like Lijah here—or you come by it through hours of work and dedication.” He looked at Lijah. “And understanding. But in either case, a falconer has to care about other people and animals more than himself.”

  Brady cast Lijah a questioning glance.

  “Second, you’ve been brought up in the country. You understand the lay of the land. That’s important, too.”

  “I just know that I like being with the birds. I feel comfortable with them. Like I belong.”

  Harris nodded. “That’s a good start.”

  Brady released a quick grin of relief. “So, can I do it?”

  Harris studied him and Brady felt as if his eyes were burning straight through him.

  “Yes, I believe you can.”

  “What’s that you’re always doing with your hands?” asked Clarice.

  Brady looked up from the piece of rope attached to the D ring of his book bag. Even without looking, the fingers of his right hand were still rapidly moving on the rope, tying an elaborate knot. He knew he was showing off, but if it impressed Clarice, that was fine with him.

  “I’m practicing my falconer’s knot,” he said, proud that he could even say that. He’d been working under Harris and Maggie for three weeks and he’d already learned so much. “Harris says I have to be able to do it with one hand. That’s because the bird’s always sitting on the left fist. Like this,” he said, holding up a Coke bottle in his left fist. “Now watch.”

  He dug into the book bag and pulled out the falconer’s glove that was his prized possession. He thought it was a beautiful thing, all cream-colored leather that went halfway to his elbow. He never could have afforded to buy one of his own, but Harris had surprised him by giving him this one and it fit like the proverbial glove should. Just putting it on, he felt like a falconer. Brady moved his right fingers with the smoothness of a magician as he slipped the slim rope through the metal ring, then swiftly formed the classic knot.

  “I’ve
got it down pretty good. See?” He showed her a perfect falconer’s knot.

  “Mmm…mmm, just look at you,” she said. “You’re as cocky as that rooster over there, aren’t you?”

  He ducked his head but laughed. “Maybe I am. Me and Buh Rooster are feeling pretty good, aren’t we, old friend?”

  He turned to look over at the white rooster perched right over the Road Closed sign affixed to the gate of the Coastal Carolina Center for Birds of Prey. The rooster stared back at them, impassive as always.

  “See? He agrees with me. He always does, you know.”

  Brady stretched his legs out and leaned back on his elbows on the old blanket. He sat beside Clarice beneath the old loblolly where they’d spent so many afternoons during the past months. The sun had warmed the Lowcountry to eighty degrees and spring fever was peaking. High school kids all along the southern coast could smell the magnolias blooming and knew summer break was just around the corner.

  Lincoln High had closed early that afternoon, so Brady and Clarice thought they’d have lunch together before they headed up the road for their afternoon shift. It was a better idea than it was a reality. The gnats were swarming and the damp ground was beginning to seep through the cotton blanket. Still, it was a balmy day and Brady thought it felt good just to be sitting with the sun shining on his face and Clarice chatting away at his side.

  “So, Maggie and Harris are reeling you in to the resident bird section, huh? I thought we’d try and keep you in the clinic.”

  “Not a chance. I’m really into the flying. It’s in my blood. I’m not just saying that, Clarice. I know some ancestor somewhere in my history was a falconer. Had to be. It comes so natural.” He looked at her across the blanket. She didn’t laugh at him when he said things like that. His mother did, calling him some kind of fool.

  “I feel like things are really starting to change for me, you know?”

  Clarice smiled at him as she daintily scooped out her strawberry yogurt. “You’re changing things for yourself, Brady. I’ve seen the way you’ve been hustling at the center. Seems like you’re doing everything and you’re always there.”

  “Nah. Only three times a week. Not that I wouldn’t go more if I could.”

  “But you can’t,” she said, more as a scold. “Don’t you even be thinking of going more. You’ve got to study. I’ve been busting my butt tutoring you and if you don’t shine in those SATs tomorrow, you’ll have me to answer to, boy.”

  “You’re dreaming if you think I’m gonna do good.” When he saw her narrow her eyes, he laughed. He just loved to rile Clarice. It was so easy. “All right, all right,” he said. “I’m gonna do fine. Okay? Happy now?”

  “I’ll be happy when you score over 1100 on those SATs. Anything higher is fine, too. How was your history test yesterday?”

  “Pretty good. Got an eighty-two.”

  “Hey, that’s real good! Way to shine.”

  Her approval sounded sweet in his ears. He’d studied real hard for that test. Had to. If he didn’t bring up his average he wouldn’t pass the course. Only Clarice knew that he’d changed his mind about going to college. She’d gone with him to the school counselor and he’d found out that there was money there for him if he got his grades up. Even if he didn’t get a full scholarship, they figured how he could start at the local community college until he earned enough for room and board.

  “Are you ready for the SATs?”

  “As ready as I can be.”

  “You’ve got to eat a good breakfast, you know. Have some meat for protein, maybe a steak or a hamburger. That’ll give you endurance. Then you have a Coke for the caffeine to get you jump-started. The protein will keep your blood sugar levels from falling later in the morning. Works like a charm. It’s my secret recipe for success.”

  “Oh, yeah? I’ll tell my mama.”

  “And you’ve been doing those flash cards I gave you?”

  “Yes,” he said with a groan.

  “Don’t you go groaning at me, Brady Simmons. If you’d been reading a few books the past few years your vocabulary would be better. Like I told you, vocabulary is real important for the English score. You have to—”

  He put out his hand and wagged it to make her stop. “Don’t worry. I’m handling it.”

  She closed her mouth and her eyes kindled as she leaned forward. “I know you are, Brady Simmons,” she said with sincerity. “You go in there tomorrow and show ’em.”

  His chest expanded. When she said things like that, he believed he actually could. He swallowed hard and sat up to lean forward, closer to her face. “I wouldn’t be trying, if it weren’t for you, Clarice.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, then her brow furrowed in worry as she backed away. “Brady—” she said, a warning in her voice.

  She was interrupted by the sound of tires on gravel. Looking up, they saw a rusted pickup truck turning off the high way onto the dirt road.

  “Shit,” Brady drawled, his stomach dropping to his shoes.

  “Who is it?” Clarice’s voice was high with tension. The truck pulled to a stop. A boy Brady’s age stuck his head out from the driver’s window. His left arm reached up to take off his sunglasses. The good-looking boy had a buzz cut and a chiseled jaw. Manigault Preston. His best friend.

  “Well, well, well. What we got here?”

  Nate stuck his curly haired red head out the passenger window, his eyes widened with mock exaggeration over raised brows and a smug smile.

  Brady slanted a glance at Clarice. She was sitting straight-backed, her hands clasped so tight her knuckles paled.

  “Hey, Manny. Nate,” he said in a cool tone. “What you doing here?”

  “We’re about to ask you the same thing,” Manny said. “You were ’posed to meet us at SeeWee’s. Seems you forgot. Again.”

  The doors swung open and the two tall, broad-shouldered boys in jeans and T-shirts stepped out, their boots kicking gravel as they landed.

  “Yeah, you never have time for us no more,” Nate said. He snickered. “Maybe now we see why.”

  Brady shot to his feet and walked forward to stand in front of them before they reached the gate.

  “What’s the matter? You ain’t gonna introduce us to your gal?” Manny asked.

  “Yeah, you got a new girl? Jenny’s gonna be interested to learn that.”

  “Cut it out, you guys. She’s just a friend.”

  “Oh, yeah,” they drawled. “Sure she is. Now we see how it is.”

  “And all this time we thought you was workin’ with birds.”

  They slapped his back and laughed.

  “What’re you guys talking about?”

  “You gettin’ some cream in your coffee, huh?” they said, giving him play punches.

  “I said cut it out,” Brady lashed out as he brushed off their arms.

  Manny was bigger than Brady and looked over his shoulder to let his eyes slide over Clarice. “I’m Manny. This here’s Nate. What’s your name, honey?”

  “I’m not your honey,” she replied with a voice like ice.

  “Oh, a live one.”

  “Brady, I’m going,” she said, gathering her purse.

  “Wait,” he said, holding his hand out in an arresting gesture. Then to his friends, “Look. We work together at the birds of prey center. We’re friends. Got it? Now, go on. Get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

  Manny’s smile hardened. “Hear that, Nate? We don’t belong here. Now, what I want to know,” he said, his anger tingeing the polite words, “is who says we don’t belong here. You? Brady, you telling us, your friends, that we don’t belong here?”

  “Come on, Manny. Cut me some slack.”

  Clarice rose in a huff. Manny took a step toward her but Brady moved squarely in front of him. Manny’s brows rose but Brady stood with his fists balled at his thighs, chin up, staring hard.

  “You go on,” Brady called to Clarice. “I’ll meet you later.” He cast a quick glance at Nate, who stood over by t
he truck, watching him warily. The tension rose between them while Manny and Brady stood toe-to-toe like snorting bulls, glaring at each other.

  Clarice clutched her purse tight to her side, pulled up the blanket, then grabbed both their jackets. Tucking them under her arm, she walked quickly over to her car parked on the opposite side of the road. She had to walk close to the boys to reach it, but she kept her chin up, ignoring the stares that bore holes into her back.

  When the car door closed and the ignition fired, Brady relaxed his fists and took a few steps back, his eyes still on Manny with a warning. Then he turned on his heel to walk to the gate.

  “Look at that dumb-ass rooster, would you?” Manny said with a hoot. “It don’t even move when he opens the gate.”

  “It’s too dumb to live,” Nate called out.

  “Don’t you pay them no mind,” Brady said under his breath to the rooster as he stood with his hand on the gate, waiting for Clarice’s car to pass. She cast him a worried glance as she went by, then drove on up the road. Once she was out of sight, he rolled his shoulders to release the tension cording like a falconer’s knot in his neck.

  Manny shifted his weight and shook his head in a show of bewilderment. “Now, you tell me what the hell that show was all about?”

  Brady took his time closing the gate, aware of the rooster’s eyes on him. “What show was that?”

  “Shit. That macho act. I don’t mind you trying to impress that sweet li’l piece of brown sugar. But you ain’t got no call to dis your friends like that.”

  Brady walked straight to Manny’s face and jabbed an index finger in the air. “That’s a good and decent girl,” Brady ground out. “I won’t have you bad-mouthin’ her.”

  Manny’s jaw dropped open in feigned shock and he put out his palms. “What?” he said incredulously. He turned to Nate and repeated the gesture.

  Nate laughed and shrugged with the timing of a good backup straight man. “What?” he repeated.

  Manny’s smile dropped. He stuck his hands in his pockets and said in a wounded tone, “What’s all this trouble about?”