Black Bird of the Gallows(72)

She accepts them, but instead of opening them, she presses her loose eye tooth upward with her thumb and shudders in fresh pain. “Why are you still helping me?” she asks around her thumb.

I stare at her for a minute. “Because it’s the decent thing to do. You should try it sometime.”

She scoops up a Madden NFL box and shakes the water from it. “Do you think I owe you something now?”

I look out the bare window. I’m restless but unsure where to go. “No,” I say. “Just try to… Oh forget it.” I shrug and rip open a bag of Doritos. “We’re graduating in a few months then we’ll never see each other again. Hopefully.”

I’m surprised to see hurt flicker over her bruised features. “You’re right, you know,” she says in a small voice.

“About what?”

“I am…empty. Waiting, or whatever.” She waves a hand. “You said it better. You say everything better.”

I struggle not to roll my eyes. In the scheme of things I’d like to do right now, playing therapist to Kiera Shaw is ranked way, way low on the list. I scarf down several handfuls of Doritos and shove the rest in a plastic grocery bag I found in the kitchen. “You’ll figure it out,” I say. “Or not.”

“You know exactly what you want to be, always have.” Her eye goes steely on mine. “You came from shit, you know, just like me. You think I work at Reilly’s for fun? Watching you fancy people up there in the ‘Estates’ gas up your Beemers…” She trails off with a hiss. “Anyway, you’re doing what you love. What took you so long to reveal yourself, anyway? Never mind, don’t answer that. I don’t really care.” She releases her tooth and delicately touches her fingertips to her swollen eye, pretending not to notice my flinch.

“And you’re good. That makes it worse. Now I’m going to be the girl who was mean to the super-talented musician who’s going to go and be famous.” There’s a compliment buried in there, and clearly it cost her.

“Who cares?” I ask. “It’s high school. Four years that are almost over, thank God.”

“Yeah well, I get full-time shifts at Reilly’s after graduation. What will you be doing?” She holds out a hand when I start to say something. “No. Stop. You are so lucky, you don’t even know.”

“I’m not lucky. I lived with a mother who—” I shake my head. “I am not lucky.” I say it again because she’s made me realize that she is right. All I have to do is think of my dad to realize just how fortunate I am. I admit, I know nothing about Kiera’s life. If she’s dealt with anything near to what I did with my mom, I truly feel awful for her. It doesn’t make her bad treatment of me okay, but there’s comfort in knowing the origin of her bitterness. I got out of my bad situation and was dropped in the arms of a wealthy, adoring father. She didn’t.

A tap at the window snaps our heads to the sound. A black crow flutters against the glass. He gains footing on the sill and tosses his beak in impatience.

Kiera squeals and shrinks into the couch. “Oh no, not again! Get it away.”

Reece. It’s got to be him this time. Both wings are jet black—no white feather marking it as Hank. I bite my lip to keep from grinning and stuff two water bottles in my bag. “Okay, I’m going,” I say to Kiera. “You’ll be safe here.”

Kiera sits upright. “You’re leaving?”

I nod. “I’m sure the National Guard or someone is checking the area for survivors. Sit tight until they find you. If I see any rescue personnel, I’ll tell them where to find you.” I pause, as she’s staring at me like I’ve just sprouted wings. “There’s food, three bottles of water, and well, there’s beer in the fridge if you want it. You probably do.”

“You’re leaving with that bird out there? We just watched them peck a guy’s face off.”

“I know, right? Well, I am a freak, after all.” I sling the bag over my shoulder with a smile. On my way out, I glance back at her. “By the way, Kiera, some luck is the type we make ourselves. So don’t write yourself off yet, okay?”

And that’s all the goodwill I have for her. I open the door and head outside, leaving Kiera glowering after me.



Outside, I tilt back my head and smile. An ink-black wing brushes my cheek in a feathery caress. Talons gently pluck at my hair, and I laugh in delight. The crow lands on it, then hops down to my shoulder.

“Hi there,” I say.

The crow nuzzles my cheek with his beak. He’s clean and smooth. Gone is any gory evidence that he helped kill the man who tried to attack Kiera and me.

Reece leaves my shoulder and flies ahead, landing farther up the street. He lets out a low caw and hops impatiently. He wants me to follow him, but the road is an uphill one. It also leads someplace wonderful—home.

“Okay,” I say with sudden enthusiasm. I’d forgotten that we have a generator. Water. Lights. Clean clothes. Such luxuries. “Let’s go home.”





32-home


Reece stays ahead of me, sometimes moving from tree to tree, sometimes circling above, but never straying far. I eat most of the food on the way. It’s total crap—chips and various puffed things—but it fills the void in my belly and keeps the feet moving. My stomach is a churning, greasy mess by the time I reach my driveway, thanks in part to partially hydrogenated soybean oil and pure, giddy relief.