Dangerous Creatures(91)

Like the piece I was working on now.

I stood in front of my easel and studied the girl perched on a rooftop, with one foot hanging tentatively over the edge. She stared at the ground below, her face twisted in fear. Delicate blue-black swallow wings stretched out from her dress. The fabric was torn where the wings had ripped through it, growing from her back like the branches of a tree.

I read somewhere that if a swallow builds a nest on your roof, it will bring you good luck. But if it abandons the nest, you’ll have nothing but misfortune. Like so many things, the bird could be a blessing or a curse, a fact the girl bearing its wings knew too well.

I fell asleep thinking about her. Wondering what it would be like to have wings if you were too scared to fly.



I woke up the next morning exhausted. My dreams had been plagued with sleepwalking girls floating in graveyards. Elvis was curled up on the pillow next to me. I scratched his ears, and he jumped to the floor.

I didn’t drag myself out of bed until Elle showed up in the afternoon. She never bothered to call before she came over. The idea that someone might not want to see her would never occur to Elle, a quality I’d envied from the moment we met in seventh grade.

Now she was sprawled on my bed in a sea of candy wrappers, flipping through a magazine while I stood in front of my easel.

“A bunch of people are going to the movies tonight,” Elle said. “What are you wearing?”

“I told you I’m staying home.”

“Because of that pathetic excuse for a guy who’s going to be the starting receiver at community college when we graduate?” Elle asked, in the dangerous tone she reserved for people who made the mistake of hurting someone she cared about.

My stomach dropped. Even after a few weeks, the wound was still fresh.

“Because I didn’t get any sleep.” I left out the part about the girl in the graveyard. If I started thinking about her, I’d have another night of bad dreams ahead of me.

“You can sleep when you’re dead.” Elle tossed the magazine on the floor. “And you can’t hide in your room every weekend. You’re not the one who should be embarrassed.”

I dropped a piece of charcoal in the tackle box on the floor and wiped my hands on my overalls. “I think getting dumped because you won’t let your boyfriend use you as a cheat sheet rates pretty high on the humiliation scale.”

I should’ve been suspicious when one of the cutest guys in school asked me to help him bring up his history grade so he wouldn’t get kicked off the football team. Especially when it was Chris, the quiet guy who had moved from one foster home to another—and someone I’d had a crush on for years. Still, with the highest GPA in History and all my other classes, I was the logical choice.

I just didn’t realize that Chris knew why.

The first few years of elementary school, my eidetic memory was a novelty. Back then, I referred to it as photographic, and kids thought it was cool that I could memorize pages of text in only a few seconds. Until we got older, and they realized I didn’t have to study to earn higher grades than them. By the time I hit junior high, I had learned how to hide my “unfair advantage,” as the other students and their parents called it when they complained to my teachers.

These days, only a handful of my friends knew. At least, that’s what I’d thought.

Chris was smarter than everyone assumed. He put in the time when it came to History—and me. Three weeks. That’s how long it took before he kissed me. Two more weeks before he called me his girlfriend.

One more week before he asked if I’d let him copy off me during our midterm.

Seeing him at school and pretending I was fine when he cornered me with his half-assed apologies was hard enough. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Kennedy. But school isn’t as easy for me as it is for you. A scholarship is my only chance to get out of here. I thought you understood that.”

I understood perfectly, which was the reason I didn’t want to run into him tonight.

“I’m not going.”

Elle sighed. “He won’t be there. The team has an away game.”

“Fine. But if any of his loser friends are there, I’m leaving.”

She headed for the bathroom with her bag and a smug smile. “I’ll start getting ready.”

I picked at the half inch of black charcoal under my nails. They would require serious scrubbing unless I wanted to look like a mechanic. The giant Band-Aid on my arm already made me look like a burn victim. At least the theater would be dark.

The front door slammed downstairs, and Mom appeared in the hallway a moment later. “Staying home tonight?”

“I wish.” I tilted my head toward the bathroom. “Elle’s making me go to the movies with her.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Mom tried to sound casual, but I knew what she was worried about. She had baked brownies and listened to me cry about Chris for weeks.

“He’s not going to be there.”

She smiled. “Sounds dangerous. You run the risk of having a good time.” Then her expression changed, and she was all business. “Do you have cash?”

“Thirty bucks.”

“Is your cell charged?”

I pointed to my nightstand, where my phone was plugged in. “Yep.”

“Will anyone be drinking?”