The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender(43)

The sky suddenly looked so vast.

And I suddenly felt so small.

My wings opened and closed uselessly once or twice more before I stepped away from the ledge. “I can’t,” I said, my teeth chattering as much from the cold as from the adrenaline rushing through me.

Cardigan smiled. A real smile this time. She stepped toward me and rubbed my arms to warm them. “I know,” she said kindly.

Rowe breathed an exasperated sigh of relief.

A girl in the crowd piped up. “What are they for, then?”

For? I didn’t want to think about what my wings were for, so I showed off my one winged trick instead, knocking down a beer-can pyramid with a flap.

Not long after that, the small crowd dispersed, until it was just me, my wings, Cardigan, and Rowe.

“Wasn’t that fun?” Cardigan exclaimed excitedly. “You should have seen their faces, Ava!” She laughed.

I glared. “How could you do that?”

Cardigan stopped laughing. She twisted her pretty hair around her finger nervously. “Well, I just thought . . .” Cardigan put her hands on her hips. “Look, you wanted to meet people, right? Now everyone knows you! You don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Are you kidding?” I was yelling now. “I’m lucky they didn’t try to burn me at the stake!”

“Okay, I get it. Jeez, will you cool it already?”

“That was possibly the most selfish thing you’ve ever done, sis,” Rowe offered.

“Selfish!” Cardigan spat. “I did it for her!”

“And how is it that you got to be the one to decide what she needed?” Rowe asked.

Cardigan opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Stay out of this, Rowe,” she finally muttered.

I threw up my hands in disgust. “I’m going home,” I said, and stormed off, leaving Rowe and Cardigan to run to catch up to me.

It was quiet on the way home — Rowe walked between me and Cardigan.

When we reached my house, Rowe said to us, “You two need to sort this out.” To me, he said, “Ava, I’m glad you c-came. Truly, it was a spectacular night. T-terrifying, sure. But spectacular.” Then he made a sharp right toward his house.

Cardigan and I watched Rowe walk away before turning to face each other. Cardigan sighed. “Listen, I thought I was doing you a favor, getting your wings out into the open, so to speak. Cross my heart I did. I wanted them to see that you’re nothing to be afraid of.”

I looked out at the quiet neighborhood around us. It all seemed so simple, so harmless under the night sky. “I would’ve liked just one night. One night to be . . . normal. To just be a girl.”

“But you’re more than that. When are you gonna realize that that’s pretty swell, too?” She threw her arms around me in a tight hug. “Will you come out with us again? Please say yes.”

I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

Cardigan smiled. “Okay, but you know you don’t have to wear the harness or anything now, right? Unless you want to, that is.”

“I think — I think I do, honestly. Well, at least I want to keep wearing the cloak.”

“But why?”

I shrugged. “I like pretending to be normal.”

Cardigan cocked her head and studied me thoughtfully. “I never thought about how hard it must be for you. Guess I am pretty selfish.” She snorted. “Just don’t tell Rowe he’s right. He’ll never let me forget it.” She smiled. “Hey, where is that cloak anyway?”

I groaned. “I forgot it at the reservoir.”

“Well, let’s go get it.” Cardigan looped her arm through mine.

I thought for a moment. “You know what? Go home. I’ll go get it myself.”

Cardigan hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Cardigan hugged me again before running home.

Now that I was alone, I felt more afraid than free; the dark seemed more formidable. I took a deep breath and reminded myself of all the times I’d wished I were out here instead of in my room. Still, I quickened my pace and pretended that my mother was standing on our front porch, watching over me.

By the time I reached the reservoir, the deep blue of the night sky had lightened — the color now diluted with specks of white clouds. Still, the shadows of the leafless trees danced eerily on the water. A birdcall became a woman’s scream. A dog’s howl became a cry of warning, the wind in my feathers, the hand of a ghost.

I found the cloak and harness — just where I’d dropped them — grabbed them, and ran, keeping my wings folded tightly against my back to keep them from slowing me down. It wasn’t until I passed the drugstore where my mother once worked that I slowed to a walk. At my grandmother’s bakery, I paused briefly and ran my fingers over the script on the window.

Wisps of orange and red were making their way across the blue sky, and I realized with a happy start that I had been out all night and hadn’t gotten caught. I let out a giddy little laugh and skipped toward home, feeling miraculously like a normal teenager.

From the personal diary of Nathaniel Sorrows:

May 11, 1959

I’ve begun attending services at the Lutheran church. I had hoped to entice Aunt Marigold to return to her virtuous ways. My plan didn’t work. I, the baptized Catholic, have been well received by the parishioners and by Pastor Trace Graves, but Marigold remains snug beneath the crumb-covered blankets on her bed. The other old women find me charming. The Altar Guild elected me as their new head — it is my responsibility to put away the Communion wafers and wine after the service. In the Catholic church, not even the altar boys are trusted to do that.