Wings

“I think it’s pretty,” Laurel said.

“That’s because it’s not yours. I have to use special shampoos and conditioners just to be able to brush through it every day.” She looked over at Laurel and touched her straight, smooth hair for a second. “Yours feels nice; what do you use?”

“Oh, just whatever.”

“Hmm.” Chelsea touched her hair one more time. “Do you use a leave-in conditioner? That usually works the best with mine.”

Laurel took a breath and let it out noisily. “Actually…I don’t put anything on it. Any kind of conditioner makes my hair really slick and oily-feeling. And if I use shampoo, it makes my hair really, really dry - even the moisturising kind.”

“So you just don’t wash it?” The idea was apparently beyond foreign to Chelsea.

“I rinse it really well. I mean, it’s clean and everything.”

“But no shampoo at all?”

Laurel shook her head and waited for a sceptical comment, but Chelsea just muttered, “Lucky,” and turned back to her lunch.

That night Laurel examined her hair closely. Did she need to wash it? But it looked and felt the same as it always did. She turned her back to the mirror and poked and prodded the bump. It had been a tiny thing on Saturday morning, but over the weekend it had grown pretty big. “Hell of a first zit,” Laurel grumbled to her reflection.

The next morning, Laurel woke up to a dull tingling between her shoulder blades. Trying not to panic, she hurried into the bathroom and craned her neck to look at her back in the mirror.

The bump was bigger than a quarter!

This was no zit. She touched it carefully, and a strange tingling sensation lingered everywhere her fingers brushed. In a panic she clutched her nightgown to her chest and ran down the hall to her parents’ room. She had just raised her hand to knock when she forced herself to stop and take a few breaths.

Laurel looked down at herself and suddenly felt very foolish. What was she thinking? She was standing in the hallway in little more than her underwear. Mortified, she stepped away from her parents’ door and crept back to the bathroom, shutting the door as quickly and quietly as she could. She turned her back to the mirror again and studied the lump. She turned to view it from a few different angles until she convinced herself it wasn’t nearly as big as she’d thought.

Laurel had been raised on the idea that the human body knew how to take care of itself. Most things - if left alone - would clear up by themselves. Both her parents lived that way. They never went to the doctor, not even for antibiotics.

“It’s just a humongous zit. It will go away on its own,” Laurel told her reflection, her tone sounding exactly like her mother’s.

She dug into her mother’s drawer and found a tub of the salve her mom made every year. It had rosemary, lavender, tea-tree oil, and who knew what else in it, and her mom put it on everything.

It couldn’t hurt.

Laurel scooped up a fingerful of the sweet-smelling salve and began rubbing it on her back. Between the tingle of her hands irritating the bump and the burn of the tea-tree oil, Laurel’s back was on fire as she pulled her nightgown over her head and, with her shoulders pressed to the wall, scooted to her room.

She chose a loose-fitting baseball-style T-shirt with cap sleeves and a full back for today. Most of her tanks would probably conceal the bump, but Laurel didn’t want to take any chances. This thing couldn’t get much bigger without becoming all gross, and when it did, Laurel would rather have it hidden beneath a shirt. It tingled every time anything brushed against it - her long hair, the T-shirt as she pulled it over her head, and, of course, every time she touched it, trying to remind herself it was real. By the time she headed downstairs, she was convinced every nerve in her body was connected to the bump.

By the time Thursday rolled around, Laurel could no longer deny that whatever this thing was on her back, it wasn’t a zit. Not only had it continued growing the last two days, it seemed to be growing faster. That morning it was the size of a golf ball.

Laurel had come down to breakfast determined to tell her parents about the weird bump. She’d even taken a breath and opened her mouth to just blurt it out.

But at the last second she’d wimped out and simply asked her dad to pass the cantaloupe.

Between the T-shirts she’d been wearing the last few days and keeping her long hair loose, no one had noticed the bump yet, but it was only a matter of time — especially if it kept getting bigger. If, Laurel repeated to herself, if it gets bigger. Maybe Mom’s stuff did the trick.

She’d been putting salve on it for three days straight now, but it didn’t seem to be doing much. But then, something that grew this big and fast couldn’t be something that a little tea-tree oil could fix, could it? Maybe it was a tumour. Laurel was sure she’d read news stories about people having spinal tumours. Laurel took in a sharp breath. A tumour made too much sense.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Chelsea’s voice cut through Laurel’s thoughts and she turned her face to her friend.

“What?”

Chelsea just laughed. “I didn’t think so.” Then, quieter, “Are you OK? You were really spaced.”

Laurel looked up and for a second couldn’t remember which class she was headed to. “I’m fine,” she muttered irritably. “Just thinking.”

Chelsea scrutinised her face for a few seconds before one sceptical eyebrow poked up. “OK.”

David fell into step beside them, and when Chelsea peeled off to head to her own class Laurel tried to get ahead of him. He reached out and pulled her back. “Where’s the fire, Laury? It’s still three minutes to the bell.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped before she could stop herself.

David’s mouth bounced shut and he didn’t say anything else as the flow of people slid around them.

Laurel searched for words of apology, but what was she supposed to say? Sorry, David, I’m just on edge because I might have a tumour. Instead she blurted, “I don’t like nicknames.”

David had already pasted on his brave smile. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you…” His voice trailed away and he seemed to change his mind. “Come on. I’ll walk you to class.” She felt awkward walking beside him now. She turned to him when they reached her class and waved. “See ya.”

“Laurel?”

She turned back round.

“What are you doing on Saturday?”

She hesitated. She’d hoped that she and David could do something again. And until this morning, she’d been trying to come up with a casual way to ask. But maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

“I was thinking a bunch of us could get together and have a picnic and maybe a bonfire. I know this great spot on the beach. Chelsea said she’d come, and Ryan and Molly and Joe. And a couple other people said maybe.”

Food, sand and a smoky fire. None of those sounded fun.

“It’s a little cold, so we can’t really swim, but…you know. Someone usually gets pushed in. It’s fun.”

Laurel’s fake smile melted away. She hated the feeling of salt water on her skin. Even after a shower she could still feel it - as if the salt had absorbed into her pores. The last time she’d gone swimming in the ocean, years ago, she’d been sluggish and tired for days afterwards. And there would be no way of hiding her bump - or whatever it was - in a bathing suit, either.

She shuddered as she wondered how big it would be in two days! She couldn’t go, even if she wanted to. “David, I—” She hated turning him down. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” David asked.

She could say she had to work at the bookstore -until the last couple of weeks she’d spent pretty much every Saturday down there helping her dad - but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. Not to David. “I just can’t,” she mumbled, and ducked through the doorway without saying goodbye.

By Friday morning the bump was the size of a softball. It was definitely a tumour. Laurel didn’t even bother to go in the bathroom to look. She could feel it.

No T-shirt was going to hide this.

Laurel had to dig into the back of her closet to find a fluffy blouse that would at least camouflage the lump. She waited in her room till it was time to go to school, then raced downstairs and out of the door with only a yell of “good morning” and “goodbye” to her parents.

The rest of the day dragged by interminably. The bump tingled all the time now, not just when she touched it. It was all she could think about, like a persistent buzz in her head. She didn’t talk to anyone at lunchtime and felt bad about that, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything while her back was tingling so much.

By the time her last class finally ended, she had given the wrong answer four times when she was called on. The questions had got progressively easier - as if Señora Martinez were trying to give her a chance to redeem herself - but her teacher may as well have been speaking Swahili. As soon as the bell sounded, Laurel was out of her seat and heading to the door ahead of everyone else. And definitely before Señora Martinez could corner her about her abysmal performance.

She saw David and Chelsea chatting by Chelsea’s locker, so she headed the other way and hurried towards the back doors, hoping neither of them would turn and recognise her from behind. As soon as she’d escaped the school, she headed across the football field, not sure where to go in the still-unfamiliar town. As she walked, she couldn’t shake her growing fear. What if it’s cancer? Cancer doesn’t just go away. Maybe I should tell Mom.

“Monday,” Laurel whispered under her breath as the cold air whipped at her hair. “If it’s not gone by Monday, I’ll tell my parents.”

She climbed the bleachers, her feet pounding on each metal step, until she reached the top. She stood against the railing, looking out over the tops of the trees at the western skyline. Being so far above her surroundings made her feel separate and apart. It was fitting.

Her head shot up as she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see David’s rather embarrassed face. “Hey,” he said.

Laurel said nothing as relief and annoyance warred in her mind. Relief was winning.

He waved his hand at the bench she was standing on. “Can I sit?”

Laurel stood still for a moment, then sat on the bench and patted the spot beside her with a slight smile.

David sat down gingerly beside her as if not trusting her invitation. “I didn’t really mean to follow you,” he said as he leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. “I was going to wait for you at the bottom, but…” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m impatient.”

Laurel said nothing.

They sat in silence for a long time. “Are you OK?” David asked, his voice unnaturally loud as it bounced off the empty metal benches.

Laurel felt tears burn her eyes, but forced herself to blink them back. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve just been so quiet all week.”

“Sorry.”

“Did…did I do something?”

Laurel’s head lifted sharply. “You? No, David. You…you’re great.” Guilt settled over her. She forced a smile. “I just had an off day, that’s all. Give me the weekend to get over it. I’ll feel better on Monday. I promise.”

David nodded and the silence returned, heavy and awkward. Then he cleared his throat. “Can I walk you home?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to stay here awhile. I’ll be all right,” she added.

“But…” He didn’t continue. He just nodded, then stood and started to walk away. Then he turned. “If you need anything, you know my number, right?”

Laurel nodded. She had it memorised.

“OK.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’m leaving now.”

Just before he passed out of sight, Laurel called to him. “David?”

But when he turned to her, his face so frank and open, she lost her nerve. “Have fun tomorrow,” she said lamely.

His face fell a little, but he nodded and continued walking away.

That night Laurel sat on the vanity in her bathroom staring at her back. Tears slid down her cheeks as she again smeared salve all over the lump. It hadn’t done anything before, and logic told her it wouldn’t do anything this time - but she had to try something.

Chapter Five

Saturday morning dawned cool, with only a light mist that the sun would probably burn off by noon. Laurel predicted a hundred per cent chance of everyone at the bonfire diving or being pushed into the chilly Pacific water, and was doubly grateful she had bowed out. She lay in bed for several minutes watching the sunrise with its blended hues of pink, orange and a soft, hazy blue. Most people enjoyed the beauty of a sunset on a regular basis but, to Laurel, it was sunrise that was truly breathtaking. She stretched and sat up, still facing the window. She thought of the percentage of people in her small town who were sleeping through this incredible sight. Her father, for one. He was an infamous sleeper and rarely rose before noon on Saturday - or Sleepday, as he called it.

She smiled at that thought, but reality trickled in all too soon. Her fingers walked over her shoulder and her eyes flew open wide. She bit off a shriek as her other hand joined the first, trying to confirm what she was feeling.

The bump was gone.

But something else had replaced it. Something long and cool.

And much bigger than the bump had been.

Cursing herself for not being one of those girls with a mirror in her room, Laurel craned her neck, trying to see over her shoulder, but she could only see rounded edges of something white. She threw back the thin bedsheet and ran to her door. The knob turned silently and Laurel opened the door a tiny crack. She could hear her father snoring, but sometimes her mother got up early and she was very quiet. Laurel let her door swing open - consciously grateful, for the first time in her life, for well-oiled hinges - and slid down the hall towards the bathroom with her back to the wall. As if that was going to help.

Her hands were unsteady as she pushed the bathroom door closed and fumbled with the lock. Only when she heard the bolt click into place did she let herself breathe again. She leaned her head against the rough, unfinished wood and forced her breathing to slow. Her fingers found the light switch and she flipped it on. Taking a deep breath, she blinked away the dark spots and stepped towards the mirror.

She didn’t even have to turn to see the new development. Long, bluish-white forms rose over both shoulders. For a moment Laurel was mesmerised, staring at the pale things with wide eyes. They were terrifyingly beautiful - almost too beautiful for words.

She turned slowly so she could see them better. Petal-like strips sprouted from where the bump had been, making a gently curved four-pointed star on her back. The longest petals - fanning out over each shoulder and peeking around her waist - were more than a foot long and as wide as her hand. Smaller petals - about twenty centimetres long - spiralled around the centre, filling in the leftover space. There were even a few small green leaves where the enormous flower connected to her skin.

All of the petals were tinged a dark blue at the centre that faded to the softest sky blue in the middle and white at the ends. The edges were ruffled and looked eerily like the African violets her mother painstakingly grew in their kitchen. There must have been twenty of the soft, petal-like strips. Maybe more.

Laurel turned her front to the mirror again, her eyes on the hovering petals that floated beside her head. They looked almost like wings.

A loud rap on the door snapped Laurel out of her trance. “Done yet?” her mother asked sleepily. Laurel’s fingernails bit into her palm as she stared in horror at the huge white things. They were pretty, sure, but who in the world grew an enormous flower out of their back? This was ten - no - a hundred times worse than the bump. How was she going to hide it?

Maybe the petals would just pluck off. She grabbed one of the oblong strips and yanked on it. Pain radiated down her spine and she had to bite her cheek hard to stifle a scream. But she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped from between her teeth.

Her mother knocked again. “Laurel, are you OK?”

Laurel took several deep breaths as the pain faded to a dull throb and she regained her power of speech. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “Just a minute.” Her eyes swept the room looking for something useful. The thin, strappy nightgown she was wearing would be no help at all. She grabbed her oversized towel and threw it over her shoulders, pulling it close around her. After a quick check in the mirror to make sure there were no gigantic petals in sight, Laurel opened the door and forced a smile at her mother. “Sorry I took so long.”

Her mother blinked. “Did you take a shower? I didn’t hear the water running.”

“It was short.” Laurel hesitated. “And I didn’t get my hair wet,” she added.

But her mother wasn’t paying much attention. “Come on down when you’re dressed and I’ll make you some breakfast,” she said with a yawn. “It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

Laurel skirted past her mother into the safety of her own room. She didn’t have a lock on her door, but she wedged a chair under the doorknob like she’d seen people do in movies. She looked at the set-up dubiously. It didn’t look like it would keep much out, but it was the best she could do.

She let the towel fall from her shoulders and examined the crushed petals. They were a tad rumpled, but they didn’t hurt. She pulled one long piece over her shoulder and examined it. The huge bump was one thing, but what was she going to do about this?

She sniffed at the white thing, paused, and sniffed again. It smelled like a fruit blossom but stronger. A lot stronger. The intoxicating scent was starting to fill the room. At least the huge thing didn’t stink. She’d have to tell her mom she got a new perfume or something. Laurel inhaled again and wished she could find something that smelled this good at the perfume counter.

As the enormity of the situation crashed over Laurel, the room seemed to spin beneath her. Her chest felt tight as she tried to consider what to do.

The most important thing first; she had to hide it.

Laurel opened her closet and stood in front of it, looking for something to help her hide an enormous flower growing out of her back, but that hadn’t exactly been her first priority when she’d gone clothes shopping in August. Laurel groaned at the closet full of light, thin blouses and sundresses. Hardly made for hiding anything.

She sifted through her clothes and grabbed a few tops. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, Laurel ran to the bathroom, swearing she would get to a store today and buy a mirror for her room. The door closed a little harder than she intended but, though she stood next to it with her ear pressed against the cool wood for several seconds, she didn’t hear any response from her mother.

The first top wouldn’t even fit over the enormous flower thing. She stared at it in the mirror. There had to be another way.

She grabbed as many of the long, white petals as she could and tried wrapping them around her shoulders. That didn’t work very well. Besides, she didn’t really want to wear sleeves for the rest of her life - however long that might be.

She pulled them around under her arms and wrapped them around her waist instead. That worked better. Much better. She grabbed a long pink silk scarf off one of the hangers and wrapped it around her waist, securing the petals to her skin. Then she buttoned her shorts up over part of the scarf. It still didn’t hurt, but she felt confined and smothered.

Still, it was better than nothing. She picked a lightweight, peasant-style blouse and threw it over the whole thing. Then, with trepidation, she turned to look in the mirror.

Pretty impressive, if she did say so herself. The fabric of the blouse was bunchy anyway, so you couldn’t tell anything was underneath. Even from the side the bulge down her back was only barely noticeable and, if she brushed her hair down over it, no one would be able to tell. One small problem solved.

A hundred big ones left.

This was way more than some strange manifestation of puberty. Mood swings, disfiguring acne, even periods that went on for months were at least semi-normal. But growing oversized flower petals out of your back from a zit the size of a softball? This was something else entirely.

But what? This was the kind of stuff you saw in cheap horror movies. Even if she did decide to tell someone, who would believe her? Never, even in her worst nightmares, had she imagined something like this could happen to her.

This was going to ruin everything. Her life, her future. It was like everything was washed away in an instant.

The bathroom suddenly felt too warm. Too small, too dark, too…too everything. Desperate to get away from the house, Laurel scooted through the kitchen, grabbed a can of soda and opened the back door.

“Going for a walk?”

“Yeah, Mom,” she said without turning round. “Have fun.”

Laurel made a noncommittal sound under her breath.

She stomped down the path towards the woods, paying no attention to the dew-speckled greenery around her. There was still a touch of fog on the western horizon where it rolled off the ocean, but the peak of the sky was blue and clear and the sun was making its way steadily to the top of the sky. It would indeed be a beautiful day. Figures. She felt like Mother Nature was mocking her. Her life was unravelling, yet everything around her was beautiful, as if to spite her.

She ducked behind a large cluster of trees, out of sight of both the road and her house; it wasn’t enough, though. She kept going.

After a few more minutes, she stopped and listened for the sound of anyone - or anything - around her. Once she felt safe, she pushed the back of her shirt up and untied the confining scarf. A sigh escaped her lips as the petals whipped back into their original position on her back. It felt like being released from a tiny, cramped box.

A beam of sunlight shone down from a break in the trees above, making her silhouette stretch out on the grass in front of her. The outline of her shadow looked like an enormous butterfly with gauzy wings. And, in the same strange way balloons cast shadows, the blackness had just a tinge of blue in it. She tried to make the wing-things move, but although she could feel them — feel every inch of them now, soaking in the rays of sunlight — she had no control over them. Something so life-shattering shouldn’t be this beautiful.

She stared at the image on the ground for a long time, wondering what to do. Should she tell her parents? She had promised herself she’d tell them Monday if the bump wasn’t gone.

Well, it was gone.

Pulling one of the long strips over her shoulder, Laurel ran her fingers down it. It was so soft. And it didn’t hurt. Maybe it will just go away, she thought optimistically. That was what her mom always said. Eventually most things go away on their own. Maybe…maybe it would be OK.

OK? The words seemed to fill her head, reverberating in her skull. I have a humongous flower growing out of my spine. How is this supposed to be OK!

As her emotions tumbled around like a hurricane, her thoughts suddenly centred on David. Maybe David could help her make sense of this. There had to be a scientific explanation for this. He had a microscope - a really good one, from what he said. Maybe he could look at a piece of this weird flower. He might be able to tell her what it was. And even if he told her he had no idea, she’d be no worse off than she was now.

She wrapped her scarf around the flower again and hurried back to the house, almost running into her dad as he lumbered into the kitchen.