The Act, Chp. 2

Um... wow! I really wasn't expecting the response I got. Evidently this isn't so bad. :) It's not my favorite, so updating it is definitely not going to be regular, but... this is what I have.

Chapter 2: No, I'm not Suicidal. Yet.

            School wasn't bad enough to cater suicidal thoughts, so no, I wasn't jumping to my death. In fact, my feet never touched the ground. There was no need.

            My wings snapped out and caught the breeze, and I glided to the roof of the workshop. My workshop- my haven. The only place where I didn't have to hide. I pulled the latch that opened the trap door and dropped in, landing on a pile of wood shavings.

            I headed straight to the mini-fridge. My high metabolism meant that lunch didn't stick with me- I'd have to bring snacks to eat in between classes tomorrow. Grabbing a can of Coke and a bag of Oreos, I opened the cab of my truck and stretched out to enjoy the peace and quiet.

            My truck is a work in progress. I found it one day in the middle of the woods, totally abandoned and unmarked- no license plate, nothing. Charlie helped me push it home, and since the workshop was a garage, the whole situation worked out perfectly. (Mom and Dad never used the garage- there is no driveway up to it, and they didn't want to ruin the grass. Not that is matters much.)

            I already had tools and everything, and after making just about anything I set my mind on, this truck became my passion. It's not done, but someday, I'll get it running again. Someday.

            And that's where Charlie found me, laying on a skateboard underneath the truck, tinkering away. I heard him come in- he's the only one who ever comes in there. For one, the place has a musty smell that I love and they hate, and with feathers and shavings and spilled oil all over the place. I'm not a neat person- let's leave it at that.

            “Hey kiddo.” He began, sitting on the floor next to me.

            “Hey yourself.”

            “So how'd it go?”

            I pulled myself out, so I could see his face. His warm, brown eyes, his cheerful smile. I gave him a look and he sighed.

            “Just give it a chance, Jenna.”

            “Easy for you to say.”

            “Amy has a point, you know. You have been in the house for a while.”

            “And is that my fault?” I snapped. Amy was, after all, the one who suggested I take online classes rather than going to school. But that was way back- ten years ago, really. “I like the house. I like the quiet. She has no business getting involved in how I live.”

            “She honestly does care about you.”

            “Well, I'd rather that she ignored me, like she used too.” I slid back underneath the truck, fuming.

            “I think she got tired of having an invisible sister.”

            “It's not like it made a difference to her- my going to school only threatens her status as Miss Popular. I don't get it.”

            “Neither do I.” I heard him grab an Oreo and crunch down on it- Charlie always had eaten Oreos improperly. “Girls are confusing.”

            “Boys are confusing.” I replied.

            Charlie laughed, that rich sound I knew so well. “I suppose you met a few of those today.”

            “More than I'd like.”

            “How many guys did you know before today? Two? Me and Dad?”

            “Three.” I said after a pause. “I know Mr. Ervin from the grocery store.”

            “Three guys, before today. And now, you saw... three hundred? Cheers!” He and I clanked Cokes, though I wasn't quite sure why.

            “But back to Amy... you know the last time her friends had study group at the house?”

            I remembered. That was a close call.

            “I think her friends asked her where you were, where you've been.”

            “It's none of their business.”

            “But people are starting to wonder- maybe Amy was trying to save her reputation, showing that she didn't have some freak for a sister.”

            “Well sorry to burst her bubble, but she does have a freak for a sister.”

            Charlie pulled at the skateboard, sliding me out and giving me a hard glare. “You're not a freak.”

            “Oh yeah? Then what am I? Some mutant?” How many times had we had this argument?

            “I don't know- howabout an improvement? A hybrid?”

            “That's the politically correct way to say it.” I complained.

            “Maybe there are other people... like, like you... at school.”

            That had never occurred to me. Then they must be darn good at keeping secrets, at hiding. “I don't think so.” I muttered.

            “So... who did you meet?” Charlie asked. I was glad for the change of topic.

            “This guy called Troy walked me to class a few times.”

            “Oh- his dad works at the cattle farm in Crestview.” Crestview was the little town about an 45  minutes away, and one of the closest to Tolobie. Flying, though, is a whole lot faster.

            “And this girl- Zoe- saved me from getting trampled.”

            “Zoe who?” Charlie asked, suspicious.

            “I don't know. I think she was goth- black hair, makeup, that sort of thing.”

            “Zoe Rages.” Charlie muttered. “Stay away from her. I think she's been to Juvie.”

            “Why? She seemed... intimidating, but not a criminal.”

            “I think. I don't know. She just seems like that type- like she's seen a few fights in her life.”

            I slipped back under the cab. Zoe. Juvie. Hmm.

            “Anyone else?”

            “Um... I'm lab partners with this guy called Sam.”

            “I know him. Red hair, athletic?”

            “Yeah. During lunch he got in a fight with another guy- I don't know his name. He said they fight all the time.”

            “The other boy- dark hair, tan? Athletic?”

            I nodded.

            “Zachary Rages.” Charlie informed me. “They've been best friends since the Rages moved here. Stay away from the lot of them- they're all going to end up in trouble.”

            Great. Out of the four students who had talked to me, three were doomed, in Charlie's mind. His phone rang- well, I could hear the vibration, at least- and it was Amy, calling us in for dinner.

            “Oh my gosh, so Tommy totally cheated on Lizzie, and she's hysterical.” Amy said as she set the table. Dad brought home Chinese- Mom hated cooking, so if I didn't make anything, someone had to bring home pizza or something.

            “Jenna, you smell like your truck.” Mom chided me, wrinkling her nose. No hello, no how was your day. I was used to it.

            “No, she smells like... a dump yard.” Amy replied.

            “And what are you trying to smell like?” I snapped. “Rotten eggs? That perfume is disgusting. It would smell better on a rat than you.”

            “I just got it!” She cried, outraged.

            “Sorry you wasted your money.”  

            “I like it!”

            “And I like how my truck smells.”

            “Did you get egg rolls?” Charlie asked, picking through the bags.

            “I should've.” Dad replied, lumbering into the kitchen. He gave me a half smile and sat down, digging in with Charlie.

            “So, Charlie, who called in today?” Mom began.

            I ignored the conversation, partially to spite them, partially because I always did. My family was weird- I mean, I loved them and everything, but somehow... I never really fit in. Charlie didn't mind me, but the day he carried me home after finding me in that black bag in the woods... let's just say there was a huge argument about whether or not they were going to 'keep' me.

            I remember it word for word.

            And every time Mom gave me a cross look, or Dad was upset with something I made, or tired of me smelling like the truck, or Amy crinkled her face upon sight of me, I was reminded of one thing.

            I didn't belong there.

            Charlie was the only one who didn't mind. Heck, he took care of me more than Mom.

            “Seriously, Jenna, you eat like a pig.” Amy complained. Not my fault that I get hungry easily.

            “And you smell like a pig.” I replied.

            “Jenna, let her off. Didn't you hear? Tommy cheated on Lizzie. They're all upset.” Mom gave me a hard look.

            “They're not the only ones.” I snapped. 

            “Rough day, then.” Dad muttered.

            I scarfed down the rest on my plate and threw it in the sink, running up to my room and grabbing my violin stuff. I dove out the window, back into the workshop, and plugged in my Goodwill TV.

            Music is just so awesome- though, I suppose everyone knows that. But I was finally making some of my own- more than humming little melodies or scribbling down random lyrics. I wouldn't call 'Old McDonald had a Farm' great music, but it was music all the same.

            Charlie was surprised when he came, but I was in no mood to talk, and he said his goodbye pretty quickly.

            That's when I took off.

            Stowing my violin in the cab, I grabbed my windbreaker off its hook and pulled it on, popping my wings through the slits in the back. I clambered onto the cab's and out onto the roof.

            The lights in the house were still on- they'd never notice I was gone. They never had.

            I flung myself off the roof and glided into the darkening gloom, silent as a shadow.

            I'm assuming you've never been hang gliding or skydiving. Or flying with your own two wings. I'm not going to try to explain it- you'll just have to figure it out yourself, because it would be- it is- impossible to justify through words.

            But it's amazing. I just took off, sweeping over the treetops and feeling the cool breeze in my face, playing with my hair, tugging at my jacket. The setting sun cast a great view for me, disappearing behind the mountains, and I landed in a high tree so I could see it and not have to worry about people seeing me.

            Flying erased all my worries, dragged all my concerns down to the ground. The feeling of freedom- total and absolute liberty- made the evening the climax of my day.

            I had this particular spot I liked- sometimes, when I took online classes, I picnicked there and brought my homework- a smallish clearing by a creek. In spring, it lit up with colors of the flowers, in summer, it intensified, and in fall, it seemed to burn with the violent colors of the trees. Winter... I rarely went flying in winter. Birds fly south during the winter. But when I did muster the courage and energy to leave the house, it sparkled in the sunlight and the ice glinted like diamonds.

            It leaned towards burning when I dropped down, jogging to a stop. The trees matched the sky, only not so dark, and I plopped down in the moist grass to watch the stars.

            It was late when I got back.

            I did not notice the dark shape leaning against the workshop, watching as I glided into my bedroom window.

            The next day was just as bad.

            Even though I knew what to expect, I still had several bouts of hyperventilation in between classes. And a few during, too. Like during Mr. Brunn's pop quiz in Social Studies- that was a nightmare.

            Troy, however, had memorized my schedule, and after every class led me to my next one. He babbled the whole way to each class, telling me about this or that person or whichever class he had, but at lunch he caught me totally unprepared.

            “Where are you going?” He asked as I took my lunch and was halfway out the door to the pavilion. “Yesterday I couldn't find you, but I wanted you to sit with me. Come on- it's raining out there.”

            It was strange, having someone who wanted my company. I decided he was like a golden retriever rather than a duck.

            He pushed me through the mob to a table where I thought I would die.

            At least a dozen other teenagers sat there, crowding each other, sitting on each other's laps and on the table, some milling around it. They laughed as they chatted, my ears catching at least five different conversations, everyone jumping in at random times and trading jokes. Two of the guys tossed a football across the table; Troy darted forward for an interception.

            “Hey guys, here's Jenna!” He sang.

            Twenty- some- odd eyes turned to look at me, prying, curious, suspicious. I died internally.

            “Oh my gosh, you're finally here!” One girl cried, leaping up from a boy's lap. She put her hands on my shoulders, shaking me. “Where the heck have you been? I've been bugging Charlie about you for forever!”

            I had no idea who she was.

            “I'm Jessie- too bad we don't have any classes together. That would be so awesome.”

            Jessie, taking over for Troy, who looked a bit put-out, introduced me to everyone at the table. There was Nate, Louis, Mike, Ken, and Dan; I didn't understand their expressions, and Kay, Lisa, Noelle, and Carrie, not including Troy and Jessie.

            I knew I would never remember all their names.

            I recognized some of them from my other classes, Carrie and Louis from Choir, for example. Nate was in Social Studies- he was the one who had written notes on his arm.

            And then I was sucked into the oh-so-wonderful world of teenage drama. I had only seen flirting on TV, but let's just say that it's a lot more involved in real life. Jessie batted her eyes at Mike, who paid Carrie some attention, who was crazy about Ken, and so on and so forth. Their barrage of questions overwhelmed me- when I couldn't take it anymore I stuffed my sandwich into my mouth and chowed away.

            How much do you need to know about someone? They asked every question imaginable- my birthday, what school I had been going too, why (I had to lie), what my favorite color was (blue), what my favorite movie was, my favorite actor (I rattled one off that Amy drooled over), blah blah blah blah blah. I felt like I was being tortured, but I couldn't help but wear a little bit of a smile.

            People wanted to be my friends. They wanted to know more about me, they cared.

            It was really weird.

            I caught Amy watching me from across the cafeteria- and for once, she seemed pleased by my social life's progress.

            “Jenna.”

            Everyone at the table fell silent, some glaring, some staring up at Zoe in wonder. Or hatred. It was hard to tell.

            “Hi.” I managed to say. I had the feeling she was laughing at me by the way her eyebrow lifted. She didn't give the others one moment of her attention.

            “How's your violin?”

            A wide smile spread across my face- it surprised me that she asked. “I love it.”

            “Cool. See you at chorus, then.” She started turning, then spun back around. “Oh, and Jenna?”

            “Yeah?”

            “You better watch your back if you're going to hang out with these people. Be careful.”

            And she was gone.

            “Jerk.” Kay growled.

            “She's the backstabber.” Jessie mumbled, glaring at Zoe's retreating form.

            I gave Troy a questioning look, but he shook his head, like now was not the time to ask. He mouthed that he'd explain later.

            But Zoe's words unsettled me- I had just been basking in the newfound feeling of friendship, and she told me that all of them were backstabbers?

            Predators.

            The thought sent a shudder down my back.

            “Who is she?” I asked.

            “Who are they.” Jessie corrected me. “There's a whole pack of them- they mostly fight. Zack, Sam, Zoe- I think they're the leaders. Unless those upper-class men are involved... Stay away from them- they're dangerous.”

            Well, that told me so much.

            “Like... a wrestling club or something?”

            “That would be tame compared to what they do.” Ken shuddered. Carrie laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, nodding her head of bouncy blond curls.

            “They cheat. Steal. Bribe. Vandalize.”

            “Stalk people until they get their way.” Jessie added.

            “Don't even mention that.” Kay growled again. “Don't listen to Zoe, Jenna. Do you mind if we call you Jenn? Zoe is really good at manipulating people. Like, really good. She's the one who will stab you in the back.”

            What a comforting thought. That would definitely be painful, especially with... my condition. Fine- my wings. That would really hurt. Or was that a figure of speech? I wasn't sure.

            “We don't really know if they do those things.” Lisa murmured, staring at her canister of soup. “It's just our guess.”

            “We're 99.999 percent sure of it.” Nathan replied. “I mean, who else would?”

            I could think of some other people- that last .001%.

            Like me.

            I'm not an angel, after all. And I'm good at taking things apart. And putting them back together. And taking them apart. And... rearranging the parts. Some people call it abstract art. Others call it vandalism. But I always put them back the right way... eventually.

            It was nice, knowing people in my other classes. Being able to sit next to them, listen to their whispers, and even pass notes. I'd never done that in my life- I mean, you can't exactly slide a piece of scribbled paper to another student via computer.

            So, I wouldn't call my second day horrible, but it definitely could be better.

            And, just like before, and just like always, my evening excursion was the best part of my day.

Yeah... I'm not sure about the paragraph about her vandalism/abstract art, but I wanted to give her less of an I'm-a-perfect-and-innocent-and-naive-mutant-bird-kid character. I'll have to find another way. Hmm...
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