Wings

Laurel hesitated. She’d figured he would ask, but she still hadn’t thought of a way to answer him without hurting his feelings. She liked him a lot. And she’d liked his friends - the ones she’d been able to hear over the din. “I don’t think so,” she began. “I—”

“Is it Chelsea? She didn’t mean to make you self-conscious about your lunch; she’s just really honest all the time. It’s actually kind of refreshing once you get used to it.”

“No, it’s not her - your friends were all really nice. But I can’t…I can’t stand that cafeteria. If I have to be indoors all day, I need to spend lunch outside. I guess with all the freedom of homeschooling for ten years I’m having trouble relinquishing it so quickly.”

“So everyone was OK?” David whispered as Mr James brought the class to order.

Laurel nodded.

“Do you mind if they come eat outside with us, then?”

Laurel was quiet as she listened to the beginning of the lecture on phyla. “That would be nice,” she finally whispered back.

When the bell rang, David said, “I’ll meet you out there. I’ll just go tell the others so they can come if they want.”

By the time lunch was over, Laurel remembered at least half of the kids’ names and had managed to join in several of the conversations. Chelsea and David went with her to her next class and it felt natural to walk with them. When David made a joke about Mr James, Laurel’s laugh echoed through the halls. After only three days, the school was beginning to be more familiar; she didn’t feel as lost, and even the crush of people that had been so overwhelming on Monday wasn’t quite so bad today. For the first time since leaving Orick, Laurel felt like she belonged.

Chapter Three

The next few weeks of school flew by faster than Laurel would ever have imagined after those first awkward days. She felt lucky that she’d met David; they hung out often at school, and she shared a class with Chelsea too. She never ate lunch alone, and felt like she had gotten to the point that she could call Chelsea and David her friends. And the classes were OK. It was different to be expected to learn at the same speed as everyone else, but Laurel was getting used to it.

She was also getting used to Crescent City. It was bigger than Orick, of course, but there was still plenty of open space and none of the buildings were more than about two storeys high. Tall pine and broad-leafed trees grew everywhere, even in front of the grocery store. The grass on the lawns was thick and green, and flowers blossomed on the vines that crawled over most of the buildings.

One Friday in September, Laurel ran right into David as she ducked through the doorway of her Spanish class, her last class of the day.

“Sorry,” David apologised, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s OK. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Laurel met David’s eyes. She smiled shyly, until she realised she was standing in his way.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Laurel said, moving away from the doorway.

“Um, actually, I was…I was looking for you.”

He seemed nervous. “OK. I just, have to…” She held up her book. “I need to put this in my locker.”

They walked to Laurel’s locker, where she stowed her Spanish book, then she looked expectantly at David.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to, maybe, hang out with me this afternoon?”

Her smile remained on her face, but she felt nerves settle into her stomach too. So far their friendship had been confined completely to school; Laurel suddenly realised she wasn’t entirely sure what David liked to do when he wasn’t eating lunch or taking notes. But the possibility of finding out held sudden appeal. “What are you doing?”

“There’re some woods behind my house - since you like to be outdoors, I thought we could go for a walk. There’s this really cool tree there that I thought you might like to see. Well, two trees, actually, but - you’ll understand when you see it. If you want to, I mean.”

“OK.”

“Really?”

Laurel smiled. “Sure.”

“Great.” He looked down the hall towards the back doors. “It’s easier if we go out the back way.”

Laurel followed David through the crowded hallway and out into the brisk September air. The sun was struggling to break through the fog, and the air was chilly and heavy with humidity. The wind blew in from the west, bringing the salty tang of the ocean with it. Laurel breathed deeply, enjoying the fall air as they entered a quiet subdivision about half a mile south of Laurel’s house. “So you live with your mom?” she asked.

“Yep. My dad split when I was nine. So my mom finished up school and came here.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a pharmacist down at the Medicine Shoppe.”

“Oh.” Laurel laughed. “That’s ironic.”

“Why?”

“My mom’s a master naturopath.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s someone who basically makes all their medicine out of herbs. She even grows a bunch of her own stuff. I’ve never had any drugs, not even paracetamol.”

David stared. “You’re kidding me!”

“Nope. My mom makes stuff that we use instead.”

“My mom would freak. She thinks there’s a pill for everything.”

“My mom thinks doctors are out to kill you.”

“I think both our moms could learn something from each other.”

Laurel laughed. “Probably.”

“So your mom never goes to the doctor?”

“Never.”

“So were you, like, born at home?”

“I was adopted.”

“Oh yeah?” He was quiet for a few moments. “Do you know who your real parents are?”

Laurel snorted. “Nope.”

“Why is that funny?”

Laurel bit her lip. “Promise not to laugh?”

David raised his hand in mock seriousness. “I swear.”

“Someone put me in a basket on my parents’ doorstep.”

“No way! You’re totally messing with me.” Laurel raised an eyebrow at him. David gaped. “Honest?”

Laurel nodded. “I was a basket child. I wasn’t really a baby, though. I was, like, three and my mom says I was kicking and trying to get out when they answered the door.”

“So you were a kid? Could you talk?”

“Yeah. Mom said I had this funny accent that stuck around for about a year.”

“Huh. Didn’t you know where you came from?”

“Mom says I knew my name but nothing else. I didn’t know where I was from or what happened or anything.”

“That is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It made for a huge legal mess. After my parents decided they wanted to adopt me, they had a private investigator looking for my birth mother and all sorts of stuff about temporary custody and whatever. Took over two years before everything was final.”

“Did you live in a foster home or something?”

“No. The judge my parents worked with was pretty cooperative, so I got to live with them through the whole process. A social worker came out to see us every week, though, and my parents weren’t allowed to take me out of the state till I was seven.”

“Weird. Do you ever wonder where you came from?”

“I used to. But there are no answers, so it gets frustrating to think about after a while.”

“If you could find out who your real mom is, would you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, pushing her hands into her pockets. “Probably. But I like my life. I’m not sorry I ended up with my mom and dad.”

“That’s so cool.” David gestured towards a driveway. “This way.” He glanced up at the sky. “It looks like it’ll rain soon. Let’s drop our bags and hopefully we’ll have time to see the tree.”

“Is this your house? It’s pretty.” They were passing in front of a small white house with a bright red door; multicoloured zinnias filled a long bed that ran along the front of the house.

“Should be,” David said, turning up the front walk. “I spent two weeks this summer painting it.”

They dropped off their bags by the front door and walked into a neat and simply decorated kitchen. “Can I get you something?” David asked, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He pulled out a can of Mountain Dew and grabbed a box of Twinkies from the cupboard.

Laurel forced herself not to wrinkle her nose at the Twinkles and looked around the kitchen instead. Her eyes found a fruit bowl. “Can I have one of those?” she asked, pointing to a fresh green pear.

“Yeah. Grab it and bring it along.” He held up a water bottle. “Water?”

She grinned. “Sure.”

They pocketed their snacks and David pointed towards the back door. “This way.” They walked to the back of the house and he opened the sliding door.

Laurel stepped out into a well-kept, fenced backyard. “Looks like a dead end to me.”

David laughed. “To the untrained eye, perhaps.”

He approached the breeze-block fence and, with a quick, leaping bound, pulled himself to the top and perched there.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll help you.”

Laurel looked up at him sceptically, but extended her hand. With surprisingly little effort, they hopped over the fence.

The tree line came right up to the fence, so with that one small jump they stood in a forest with damp, fallen leaves forming a thick carpet under their feet. The dense canopy hushed the sound of cars in the distance, and Laurel looked around appreciatively. “This is nice.”

David looked up with his hands on his hips. “It is, I guess. I’ve never been a big outdoors person, but I do find a lot of different plants in here that I can look at under my microscope.”

Laurel squinted up at him. “You have a microscope?” She snickered. “You really are a science geek.”

David laughed. “Yeah, but everyone thought Clark Kent was a nerd too, and look how that turned out.”

“You telling me you’re Superman?” Laurel asked.

“You just never know,” David said teasingly.

Laurel laughed and looked down, suddenly shy. When she looked up, David was staring at her. The glade seemed even quieter as their eyes met. She liked the way he looked at her, his eyes soft and probing. As if he could learn more about her just by studying her face.

After a long moment he smiled, a little embarrassed, and tilted his head towards a faint path. “The tree’s this way.”

He led her on a path that wound back and forth, seemingly without purpose. But after a few minutes, he pointed to a large tree just off the path.

“Wow,” Laurel said. “That is cool.” As David had said, it was actually two trees, a fir and an alder, that had sprouted close together. Their trunks had merged and twisted, resulting in what looked like a tree that grew pine needles on one side and broad leaves on the other.

“I discovered it when we moved here.”

“So where’s your dad now?” Laurel asked, sliding her back down a tree and settling into a soft pile of leaves. She pulled the pear out of her pocket.

David made a low laugh in his throat. “San Francisco. He’s a defence lawyer with a big firm.”

“Do you see him very often?” she asked.

David joined her on the ground, his knee resting gently against her thigh. She didn’t scoot away. “Every couple of months. He’s got a private jet and he flies into McNamara Field and takes me back with him for the weekend.”

“That’s cool.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t like him?”

David shrugged. “Well enough. But he’s the one who left us, and he never tried to get more time with me or anything, so I just don’t feel like a priority to him, you know?”

Laurel nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. We always have fun. It’s just - kind of weird sometimes.”

They sat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, the tranquil clearing lulling them into a relaxed state. But then they both looked up as thunder rumbled across the sky.

“I better take you back. It’s gonna pour soon.”

Laurel stood and brushed herself off. “Thanks for bringing me here,” she said, gesturing at the tree. “This is pretty cool.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” David said. He avoided her eyes. “But…that wasn’t really the point.”

“Oh.” Laurel felt complimented but awkward.

“This way,” David said, his face colouring a little as he turned away.

They climbed back over the fence just as the first drops of rain began to fall. “Do you want to call your mom to come pick you up?” David asked once they were back in the kitchen.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s raining. I should walk you.”

“No, it’s fine. Really, I like walking in the rain.”

David paused for a second, then blurted, “Then, can I call you? Maybe tomorrow?”

Laurel smiled. “Sure.”

But he didn’t move from the kitchen doorway. “Door’s that way, right?” she asked, as politely as possible.

“Yeah. It’s just, I can’t call you without your number.”

“Oh, sorry.” She pulled out a pen and scribbled her number down on a notebook beside the phone. “Can I give you mine?”

“Sure.”

Laurel started to open her bag, but David stopped her. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Here.”

David held her hand and scrawled his number across her palm.

“This way you won’t lose it,” he said sheepishly.

“Great. Talk to you later.” She flashed him a warm grin before letting herself out into the heavy drizzle.

Once she was down the street just far enough that the house was out of sight, Laurel pushed back the hood of her jacket and lifted her face to the sky. She breathed deeply as the rain sprinkled on her cheeks and trickled down her neck. She started to stretch her arms out, then remembered the phone number. She buried her hands in her pockets and picked up her pace, smiling as the rain continued to fall softly on her head.

The phone was ringing as Laurel walked into her house. Her mom didn’t seem to be home, so Laurel ran the last few steps to catch the call before the machine picked up. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

“Oh, hey, you’re home. I was just gonna leave a message.”

“David?”

“Yeah. Hi. Sorry to call so soon,” David said, “but I was thinking that we have that bio test next week and I thought maybe you’d like to come over tomorrow and study with me.”

“Seriously?” Laurel said. “That would be awesome! I am so stressed about that test. I feel like I only know about half of the stuff.”

“Great.” He paused. “Not great that you’re stressing over it, but great that - anyway.”

Laurel grinned at his awkwardness. “What time?”

“Just whenever. I’m not doing anything tomorrow except chores for my mom.”

“OK. I’ll call you.”

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Laurel said goodbye and hung up. She smiled as she bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Chapter Four

Saturday morning, Laurel’s eyes fluttered open at sunrise. She didn’t mind - she was a morning person, always had been. She usually woke about an hour before her parents and it gave her a chance to take a walk by herself and enjoy the sun on her back and the wind on her cheeks before she had to go spend hours indoors at school.

After pulling on a sundress, she grabbed her mom’s old guitar from its case by the back door before slipping silently out to enjoy the crisp quiet of the early morning. Late September had chased away the bright, clear mornings and brought instead the fog that rolled off the ocean and lingered over the town until early afternoon. She walked along a short path that snaked through her backyard. Despite the small size of the house, the lot was fairly large and Laurel’s parents had talked of possibly adding on someday. The yard had several trees that shaded the house, and Laurel had spent almost a month helping her mom plant bunches of flowers and vines all along the exterior walls.

Their house was one in a line of homes, so they had neighbours on both sides but, like many of the homes in Crescent City, their backyard ran into undeveloped forest. Laurel usually took her walks into the twisting paths of the small glen and to the creek that ran through the middle of it, parallel to the line of houses.

Today she wandered down to the creek and sat on the bank. She pushed her feet into the chilly water that was clear and cool in the mornings before the water bugs and gnats ventured out and dotted the surface, looking for bits of food.

Laurel set her guitar on her knee and began to strum a few random chords, picking out a bit of a melody after a while. It was nice to fill the space around her with music. She’d started playing three years ago when she’d found her mom’s old guitar in the attic. It was in dire need of new strings and some major tuning, but Laurel convinced her mom to get it fixed up. Her mom had told her the guitar was hers now, but Laurel still liked to think of it as her mom’s; it made it seem more romantic. Like an old heirloom.

An insect landed on her shoulder and began to walk down her back. Laurel swatted at it and her fingers touched something. She stretched her arm back a little further and felt for it again. It was still there: a round bump, just barely big enough to feel under her skin. She craned her neck, but couldn’t see anything past her shoulder. She touched it again, trying to figure out what it was. Finally she stood, frustrated, and headed back to the house in search of a mirror.

After locking the bathroom door, Laurel sat on the vanity, twisting until she could see her back in the mirror. She pulled the top of her sundress down and searched for the bump. She finally spotted it right between her shoulder blades - a tiny, raised circle that blended in with the skin around it. It was barely noticeable, but definitely there. She poked it tentatively - it didn’t hurt, but poking it did provoke a sort of tingling feeling. It looked like a zit. That’s comforting, Laurel thought wryly. In a completely non-comforting way.

Laurel heard her mother’s soft steps creak down the hall and poked her head round the bathroom door “Mom?”

“Kitchen,” her mom called with a yawn.

Laurel followed her voice. “I have a bump on my back. Could you look at it?” she asked, turning round.

Her mom pushed on it softly a few times. “Just a zit,” she concluded.

“That’s what I figured,” Laurel said, letting the top of her dress snap back up.

“You don’t really get zits.” She hesitated. “Have you started…you know?”

Laurel shook her head quickly. “Just a one-off” Her voice was flat and her smile was sharp. “All part of puberty, like you always say.” She turned and fled before her mother could ask any more questions.

Back in her room she sat on her bed, fingering the small bump. It made her feel strangely normal to get her first zit; like a rite of passage. She hadn’t experienced puberty quite like the textbooks described it. She never got zits and, although her chest and hips had developed the way they were supposed to — a little early, actually — at fifteen-and-a-half she still hadn’t started her period.

Her mom always shrugged it off, saying that because they had no idea what her biological mother’s medical history was, they couldn’t be certain it wasn’t a perfectly normal family trait. But she could tell her mom was starting to get worried.

Laurel dressed in her usual tank top and jeans and started to pull her hair into a ponytail. Then she thought of the irritated blemishes she occasionally saw dotting other girls’ backs in the locker room and left her hair down. Just in case the bump developed into something ugly later on.

Especially at David’s house. That would suck.

Laurel grabbed an apple as she walked out of the door and called goodbye to her mom. She was almost at David’s house when she looked up and saw Chelsea jogging the other way. Laurel waved and called to her.

“Hey!” Chelsea said, smiling as her curls blew lightly around her face.

“Hi,” Laurel said with a smile. “I didn’t know you were a runner.”

“Cross-country. Usually I practise with the team, but on Saturdays we’re on our own. What are you doing?”

“I’m headed to David’s,” Laurel said. “We’re going to study.”

Chelsea laughed. “Well, welcome to the David Lawson fan club. I’m already president, but you can be treasurer.”

“It’s not like that,” Laurel said, not completely sure she was telling the truth. “We’re just going to study. I have a bio test on Monday that I’m totally going to blow without some serious intervention.”

“He’s just round the corner. I’ll walk you there.”

They rounded the corner and heard the mower. David didn’t see them as they walked up and they both stood there, watching.

He was pushing a lawnmower through the thick grass, wearing only a pair of jeans and old tennis shoes. His chest and arms were long and wiry, but corded with lean muscle - his skin was tanned from the sun and glistened with a light sheen of sweat as he moved almost gracefully in the gentle morning sunlight.

Laurel couldn’t help but stare.

She’d seen guys running around without shirts countless times, but somehow this was different. She watched his arms flex as he reached a particularly thick patch of grass and had to force the mower to keep going. Her chest felt a little tight.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Chelsea said, not bothering to hide the appreciation in her eyes.

As if feeling them watching, David suddenly looked up and met Laurel’s eyes. She dropped her chin and studied her feet.

Chelsea didn’t even blink.

By the time Laurel looked up again, David was pulling on a shirt. “Hey, guys. You’re up early.”

“Is it early still?” Laurel asked. It was almost nine o’clock, after all. “Oh,” she said, embarrassed, “I forgot to call.”

David shrugged with a grin. “That’s OK.” He gestured at the lawnmower. “I’m up.”

“Well, I gotta run,” Chelsea said, her breathlessness back rather suddenly. “Literally.” She turned so only Laurel could see her face and mouthed, “Wow!” before waving at them both and sprinting down the street.

David chuckled and shook his head as he watched her go. Then he turned to Laurel and pointed towards his house. “Shall we? Biology waits for no man.”

After the tests were handed in on Monday, David turned to Laurel. “So, how bad was it, really?”

Laurel grinned. “Fine, it wasn’t that bad. But only because of your help.” They’d studied for about three hours on Saturday and had talked for another hour on Sunday night. Granted, the phone conversation had nothing to do with biology, but perhaps she had learned something by osmosis. Osmosis over the phone. Right.

He hesitated for just a second before saying, “We could make it a regular thing. Studying together, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, liking the idea of more quiet “study” sessions with him. “And next time you could come to my house,” she added.

“Great.”

It was raining by the time biology let out that day, so the group gathered under a small pavilion instead. Almost no one ate there because there were no picnic tables or paving stones underneath, but Laurel liked the bumpy patch of grass that never seemed to dry completely - even with the roof overhead.

When it rained, most of the group stayed inside, but today David and Chelsea joined her, as well as a guy named Ryan. David and Ryan threw bits of bread at each other and Chelsea commentated - critiquing their aim, throwing form and inability to keep from hitting spectators.

“OK, that one was on purpose,” Chelsea said, picking up a piece of crust that had hit her square in the chest and flicking it back over to the guys.

“Nah, it was an accident,” Ryan said. “You’re the one who told me I couldn’t hit anything I aimed for.”

“Then maybe you should aim for me so I can be assured of not being assaulted,” she shot back. She sighed and turned back to Laurel. “I was not meant to live in northern California,” she said, pushing her hair out of her face. “During the summer my hair does fine, but introduce a little rain and bam! It turns into this.” Chelsea had long brown hair with a tinge of auburn that fell in ringlets down her back. Soft, silky ringlets on sunny days, and jumping, coarse ringlets that bounced out of control around her face when the air was cold and humid -which was about half the time. She had light grey eyes that reminded Laurel of the ocean when the sun was just rising, and the waves had an endless quality to them in the murky half-darkness.