Nine

  Confused? Yeah, So Am I

  I woke in a panic, thinking the flying machines would be thundering above me again.

  But I looked up to see a roof over my head. I was lying in a warm bed, dressed in the new clothes the wingless teens had given me. In a rush, it all came back, and I relaxed with a sigh of relief.

  That’s right, those kids helped me. I’m at their house. I’m safe.

  I sat up, pulling at my braided hair, and looked around. I had no idea how long I’d slept, but the bedroom door was now closed, and I couldn’t hear any familiar voices behind it. Scooching off the bed, I stood and stretched, my wings almost sweeping everything off the low table behind me. I hurriedly fixed all of it back in place, then stood there feeling awkward and embarrassed for a second. Thankfully at that moment I had an attention span the width of a feather and my curiosity was soon piqued by a noise outside. I stepped around the bed to the window on the far wall and peeked out.

  A vehicle cruised down the road at a leisurely pace. Some middle-aged looking wingless were out across the street, maintaining the foliage surrounding their homes. Their lives looked so calm and simple. I looked down and saw several small wingless running around on the pavement, chasing each other and squealing.

  I giggled at that but seeing them was so odd. I’d never been that small, or if I had been, I couldn’t remember for whatever reason. I’d always just been … me … the way I was and seemed to have always been. The first memory I could recall was waking up somewhere indistinct, with Agoka’ta’jai and momma Ma’hy leaning over me, smiling. I could retrace almost everything that had happened to me from that point on. But why was there nothing before it? Why hadn’t I realized that sooner? What could have happened to me that I’d forget my entire childhood?

  There has to be a good reason it’s blocked out. I rationalized. If it was important, Agoka’ta’jai would have told me, or momma Ma’hy. That’s all that matters. They’re the only thing that matters.

  The next moment, my stomach made it known that it was empty, and I gladly accepted the distraction. I left the window and approached the door, turning the handle and peeking out into the hallway. No one there. In fact, the whole house felt devoid of anyone but myself. I soon reasoned that my friends had gone out to do whatever the wingless did during the day and left me where they knew I’d be safe. I opened the door fully, taking a step out, and something thin crunched under my foot. I leapt back like a wild thing, only to look down and see a harmless piece of paper lying on the ground in front of me.

  Aye-yaaaah. I mentally face-palmed.

  I stooped down and picked up the white sheet and examined it. It was covered in a series of fairly well drawn images of figures that resembled my friends, their house, and other symbols that I had to guesstimate the meanings of. After going over them several times I managed to understand that my wingless friends wouldn’t be back until later that evening. I folded up the note and tucked it in the pocket of my new shorts before continuing on my mission for mana.

  Creeping downstairs, I snooped into rooms and peeked into rows of smaller doors, eventually ending up in the same space I’d been in upon first entering the wingless dwelling. I went through all the little doors that pulled out, finding nothing edible until I reached a pair of shiny, silver ones attached to a big humming box standing in its own alcove. A rush of cold air fluttered against me when I opened them. The platforms inside were crowded with containers of various sizes and contents and I picked one, prying the lid up. Whatever filled it looked and smelled delicious, making my mouth water uncontrollably. I grabbed a few more of the opaque boxes, making myself comfortable on the floor and digging in. Some things were savory, others were sweet, all the textures and flavors making me bounce in delight. A few minutes later, all the containers were all empty and I was full to the brim. Sighing in satisfaction, I gathered up the cleaned-out containers and put them in the metal basin sunk in the counter with the others piled there.

  No sooner had I done so than my ears pricked at a distant thud somewhere close by outside. Curious, I crept to one of the front windows and peeked through the thin slats covering it. A different machine than my friend’s had pulled up in front of the house, and a tall, middle-aged woman was getting out. My mind flashed over to the picture hanging nearby of the one wingless teen I knew standing with the others that looked like his family. The woman had been one of them. As I watched, she slung a fancy looking bag over her shoulder and started walking up the path towards the main door.

  Towards me.

  I panicked. Aye-yah, pahla! Pahla, pahla, pahla, I gotta hide!

  I scrambled back from the window and whipped around frantically for some place to run. There was a clicking sound behind me and when I looked back, the door handle began to turn. Booking it for the stairs, I half ran, half flew up them, wincing when my wings knocked into some of the frames hanging on the wall. As I heard footsteps below, I dove into the back bedroom and slammed the door behind me, pressing my back to it. Now muffled, the woman called out what sounded like a question, and I held my breath. There was a bit of silence before she yelled again, this time a little closer, and then I heard her coming up the stairs. I sprang away from the door to the other side of the room, ducking behind the bed. I had no idea what she would do if she found me, but I didn’t know if she’d be as kind as her son. Squeezing my eyes shut, I compressed myself into the tightest ball possible, feeling the woman’s presence getting closer.

  I’m not here. You can’t see me. I willed to the aether. You can’t see me. I’m invisible.

  And suddenly I was overwhelmed by the most incredible feeling.

  I swore I heard a sound like a tiny piece of glass breaking and it felt like it broke inside me. The lights in the room briefly flickered on and crackled. There was a moment frozen in time and then an intense warmth exploded through my body. It wasn’t a burning heat. It was more like an all-encompassing friction. Like every molecule in my body had simultaneously become charged and was vibrating out of control. I opened my mouth in a silent gasp as it surged through my arms and down to my legs, consuming me from the top of my head to my toes and the very tips of my wings. Opening my eyes, I froze when I saw the wingless woman now standing in the room, just a few feet away.

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  Her gaze panned around, for sure roaming over the place I was sitting several times, but she didn’t seem to see me at all. After a few seconds, when I was sure my hearts had stopped completely, she sighed, shook her head, and walked away. The bedroom door closed, and I jumped up, frantically looking myself over.

  What is this?! What’s happened to me?! I trembled as I stared at my arms.

  My skin and clothes were now covered in a shimmering aura like a pale golden mirage. I moved my hands, and several translucent afterimages of my fingers followed, falling on top of one another. Reaching out, I touched the blankets on the bed, watching them depress under my hand. Then after a moment, an even more bizarre sensation tingled under my palm. A static-y, pins-and-needles feeling that crept up to my wrist before my whole hand just … sank … straight through the bed like it wasn’t there at all. I almost fell through it as I lost my balance, quickly stepping back. I didn’t know what I was shocked by most. The fact that I’d just become a functional ghost, or that it felt completely natural.

  I don’t know why, but this energy feels familiar. I looked down at my light-veiled hands. It’s like it’s … me. But how come I’ve never seen it before? Did I trigger it somehow?

  Taking a deep breath, I calmed down and let my body relax. The overwhelming warmth fluidly receded from my limbs and became a pool in what felt like a deep well somewhere within my chest. It almost felt like it was in the core of my hearts, beside or even between them, but not quite inside them. Experimentally, I held up one hand and simply just thought about the warmth flowing again. It reacted instantly, zapping through my arm to my palm and fingers. An iridescent white-gold glow appeared in my palm, quickly spreading until the whole surface of my hand was covered. Luminous tendrils curled away and were reabsorbed like flares on the surface of the sun. I thought about focusing it upwards and no sooner had it crossed my mind than the light lifted, condensing into a loose, lazily spinning orb floating a little bit above my palm.

  “Chohkoh,” I breathed. (Pretty.)

  I put my other hand over the sphere and slowly lifted upwards. The ball grew, retaining a solid white core but gaining several translucent golden layers. I shrunk it back down and then wondered if I could just leave it floating. When I pulled my hands away, the glowing orb remained where I’d formed it. I pointed a finger at it and directed it to move in a circle. It followed my thoughts and movements exactly.

  By some instinct I knew that this this energy … this power … came from a source infinitely greater than what I felt inside me. I couldn’t even physically describe what I felt inside really. It was beyond me. And yet whatever it was, it was solely mine. It would do whatever I willed it to do. But where had it come from? How had it gotten into me? Had Agoka’ta’jai put it there? I remembered my father was telepathic like I was. When I’d been in my bio-pod, still too weak and sore to physically talk, he and I had had private conversations in our minds. I’d done the same with momma Ma’hy, and the other scientists I’d seen, I’d felt them mind-speak to Agoka’ta’jai dozens of times.

  But this power?

  This was so much more intense.

  And it had been made for me.

  I opened my hand and returned the sphere to myself as I slumped down on the end of the bed. My mind was teetering in the odd border between shock and calm. I stared down at my now normal hands and body.

  There’s still so much I don’t know. Not just about this world but about myself. What am I supposed to do here? I feel like there has to be a reason.

  Feeling the need to do something to distract myself, I looked around the room. The instrument my wingless friends had used to cut me a new shirt was still lying on the table beside the bed. On a chair a few feet away was the stack of extra clothes the boys had brought in. I grabbed them and set to work, experimenting with all the different ways I could cut wing-holes in the fabric while leaving most of it intact. My hands and lap were covered in cloth scraps, thread, and fuzz by the time I heard the voices of my friends return. I’d never yet felt such a wash of relief, but it was quickly followed by apprehension.

  Should I tell them about my powers? I wondered. I don’t know how they’d react to that. I’m already a lot different than them. Would they be scared of me if they knew what I can do?

  I soon heard their footsteps and laughter coming up the stairs. The door opened and the group greeted me with beaming smiles. A wave of emotions hit me and I rushed forwards and hugged them, unable to stop myself. They seemed a little surprised but didn’t try to push me away, the girls lightly petting my feathers. When I was finally able to get ahold of myself, I realized they and the boys were holding a bunch of different books and a large, folded tablet. They spread out on the floor and motioned for me to join them. I sat and one teen scooched next to me with a short, thick volume in his hand.

  While the girls seemed to be intently researching something in their larger books filled with lines of letters, this smaller book was completely filled with sequences of drawings. They were of various stylized people, some looking more like animals and others … some others even had wings! They were way too small and disproportionate but still. Wings! I was mesmerized. Between the characters were boxes or bubbles of text but no matter how long I stared at the lines, they made no sense. I found it easier to understand by looking at the figures and their faces and body language. The story seemed to be about a wingless man who somehow got turned into a strangely powerful ball of goo and started building a town in a world full of other weird wingless people. It was silly and made no sense, but I found myself immediately addicted. Then I froze when I saw the next series of images. The whole thing was in black and white, but the character was holding up his hand with a swirling sphere floating in his palm.

  This story isn’t real, right? If people this powerful live here, wouldn’t they have come after me? I stared at the fantastical drawing. That means the wingless must have made up these stories. Does that mean they like people with powers? Would they not be afraid if I showed them mine?

  I felt my hearts beating thunderously, the hot friction inside pulsing like it had a life of its own. The invisible presence seemed to flicker in my mind like the very whisper of an echo. I swore it was smiling. Taking a breath, I reached out and pointed to the character on the page. My friend stopped, glancing at me in confusion before calling over the others. They all seemed equally as puzzled when they saw what I was pointing at and looked at me for an explanation.

  Okay, I’m going to show them. Please, please, don’t freak out! I prayed.

  I held up my hand, palm up, and the energy inside me flashed through my arm. My friend’s eyes widened, and faces went slack as the white-gold glow appeared and covered my hand. Again, I formed it into a small sphere, just holding it over my palm for them to see. One of the boys slowly reached out and nudged it with his finger. The orb simply displaced a bit, then drifted right back to where I was holding it.

  The girls gasped with their hands clapped over their mouths.

  I just shrugged in equal confusion.

  Your guess is as good as mine!