by R. J. Wolf
“Well, hello to you too. How was your day?”
Anthony turned around and took a few steps down the stairs.
“Um it was good.”
“What happened to your shirt?” Mrs. Dimair pointed to the tattered rags hanging from his shoulders.
“Oh um, we played football after school.”
“Uh huh.” She mumbled, eying him skeptically.
Anthony quickly ascended back up the stairs before any more questions could come. He ran into the room and closed the door, then collapsed onto his bed. I’ve survived another day, he thought.
Slowly the sun faded and before long night had fallen on the little town. Anthony still lay in his bed, his mind spinning from the day’s events.
Sighing, he sat up. “If you can’t beat em, join em I guess.” He mumbled to himself.
Anthony stepped out onto his balcony taking in the cool night air. A chill ran down his spine and he shuddered. He didn’t have a plan, but he longed to find out if his wings were for more than show.
He squirmed about on the deck for ten minutes trying to enact his wings. He waddled like a duck and jumped around like a rabbit. Anthony was ready to give up when they finally popped out.
With a devilish grin he calmly crawled onto the railing and crouched down. He stared across the lawn looking like one of the gargoyles at a church. The wind swept across his face sending a chill through his body causing his wings to slightly unfold.
Minutes passed as Anthony contemplated his next move. Maybe if he simply jumped, his wings would instinctively take flight. Don’t mama birds toss baby birds out of the nest, he thought. The vision of him laid up in a hospital bed in a body cast made him rethink his approach.
He thought long and hard, trying to connect his brain to his new found appendages, but he couldn’t muster up the confidence to just jump. After ten minutes he’d succeeded in getting a voluntary wiggle. He laughed to himself and went to step down off the railing. Just as he did the porch light directly across the street lit up. In a panic he scrambled, and his foot shot to one side. With his body leaning forward he tumbled off the railing falling awkwardly into the bushes below.
Anthony lay like a wounded bird, his feet sticking into the air like a crooked branch. One of his wings had retracted, but the other lay on top of the bushes like a tarp. His head swarmed with pain and he was pretty sure he’d peed himself.
He waited for what seemed like hours in silence afraid to move. When he didn’t hear any screams or voices of panic he wiggled his way free. He stood in the yard pulling leaves and twigs from his clothes and hair. His wing batted a few times then quickly tucked itself into his back.
With a few scratches and a stinging sense of defeat, Anthony snuck back upstairs and hopped in the shower. He’d had enough of flying for tonight.
Over the next few weeks Anthony tried unsuccessfully to fly each night. He usually ended up in the bushes, barely escaping the prying eyes of his neighbors. Most nights his friends came over to watch, certain that he was going to make history. They quickly grew unimpressed however, as he plummeted to the ground like a helpless ostrich. The allure of a friend with wings had quickly worn off once they concluded that he’d never fly.
“Maybe next time bro.” Mikey said encouragingly as he patted Anthony on the back.
Mit sat on the bed tinkering with his laptop. He had compiled a best hits video of Anthony crashing to the ground. Steve was in the corner busy eating a ham sandwich and flipping through the pages of a yearbook.
“Alright guys I’m calling it a night, my head hurts.” Anthony said as he crawled down from the banister.
“You mind if I just crash here? You’ve got the party tomorrow anyway.” Mit asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
Steve gobbled down the last of his sandwich and headed downstairs with Mikey. Anthony threw Mit a pillow and a blanket then stretched out across his bed and fell asleep.
The next day was Anthony’s fourteenth birthday. Mikey and Steve showed up early for the small get together. Anthony normally had legendary parties, but his fear of wings making an appearance ruined any idea of that. Instead his best friends and his parents were the only attendees.
“Alright sport, open this one first.” His dad smirked and tossed him a box.
Anthony ripped off the wrapping and pulled out a brand new Luminox watch.
“Cool!” Mit esteemed. “Navy Seal approved.”
Anthony smiled. “Thanks dad.”
Anthony tore into the rest of his gifts uncovering everything from a camping pack, to a pillow shaped like a seal that sung when you squeezed it.
All in all it was a pretty good birthday. He even added seven hundred and fifty bucks to his growing money stash, which he tucked under his bed. It was amazing that he’d manage to make it through the entire event without seeing or even thinking about his wings.
VII
THE DUNGEON & THE FORTUNE TELLER
Things were gradually returning to normal. Anthony’s wings hadn’t sprung out by themselves in over a week and he’d managed to keep them a secret so far. This was quite the accomplishment considering his late night flight attempts that to this point, yielded dismal results. His nightmares had also stopped, an occurrence that Anthony didn’t miss at all.
Sitting in math class he doodled random stick figures on his paper while the teacher recited obscure formulas. The bell blared loudly and the class started gathering their things. Anthony had managed to fill an entire piece of paper with flying little people and not a hint of anything math related.
“Off to detention,” Steve smiled.
Initially Principal Harris had forgotten about his detention sentence, but thanks to Steve he was made fully aware of it. For the last two weeks they were forced to stay an hour after school. Steve had considered this a pleasant turn of events since none other than Ms. Sniz presided over them.
They walked into the bleak, windowless dungeon of a room where detention was held. Steve gleamed, smiling ear to ear as he stared at Ms. Sniz. She sat on the desk with her legs crossed, twiddling a pencil through her hair.
“Good afternoon Ms. Sniz, I mean Suzanne,” Steve elated.
Ms. Sniz had declared that she be addressed by her first name during this informal school time. She smiled at him and then replied in an overly sweet tone. “Afternoon to you Steve, pleasure to have you back.”
Steve giggled and ran off to one of the desks in the back of the room. The rest of the gang joined him in what was sure to be an unexciting sixty minutes.
Detention was a complete contrast to the general theme of the school. It was held in the basement and looked like it was built two hundred years earlier and used as a torture chamber. It had such a different appearance from everything else that it looked like the school had been constructed on top of it. The floor was made of unfinished gray stone and the walls looked like rocks and boulders had been plastered together to create a barrier from the outside world. It was always cold; no matter how many lights were on shadows seemed to lurk in every corner.
Twenty minutes into detention Ms. Sniz left for her daily coffee and Snickers run, which usually lasted half an hour. As she disappeared around the corner, the heavy metal door swung closed behind her. Anthony sat back and began to day dream. He couldn’t help but think of how it would feel to finally get some wind under his wings. Steve was having an intense debate with Mikey over why Ms. Sniz would never marry him. Mit snored loudly in the back until the slamming of the door jolted him back to reality.
Anthony looked up and found Dallas and Boston grinning from the front of the room. They were identical twins standing six foot six and pushing 250 lbs. Their normally messy brown hair was cut low and tight, like they’d just escaped a military boot camp. Dallas, technically the oldest was wearing a pair of frayed jeans and a lumberjack shirt. Boston sported a pair of oversized cargo shorts and his favorite steel toed boots.
“I thought you said they left the country,” Anthony glared a
t Mikey.
“Afternoon buddies, funny seeing yall’s here,” Dallas sneered.
Boston pounded his fist into his hand, his eyes red with rage. Anthony had never been exactly sure why the twins hated them so much, but he knew seeing them only meant trouble.
“Give it a break, we’re already in detention,” Mit said in a half asleep daze.
“I’ll give you a break alright,” Boston charged towards him.
Mit froze like a possum. The obvious thing to do would’ve been to run, but Mit was unable to convince his feet to join him.
Boston crossed the room in three strides and lumbered over Mit’s desk. He thumped him in the back of the head and mushed his face.
“So little ginger, you want a break do ya?” Boston snickered. He rolled his heavy hand into a fist, cracking his knuckles loudly. “Here’s your break!”
Just as he swung Anthony dove at him. He wrapped his arms around his waist, but Boston didn’t budge. Laughing, he tossed Anthony into the adjoining row of desks.
Mikey and Steve jumped to their feet as Dallas made his way to Mit’s desk.
“So you little girls wanna fight huh?” Boston said excitedly.
He tossed the desks out of his way and lunged at Anthony. Anthony scrambled to stand and a wing ripped from his shirt. It quickly expanded and batted Boston to the ground.
Boston slid across the floor, but he was immediately back up and ready. His eyes slowly swung to the leathery wing sticking out of Anthony’s back and he stopped in his tracks.
“You freak!” Boston screamed. “Wh…what is that?” He stammered.
Dallas had already retreated to the door. He was looking skeptically between Anthony and his brother. “Let’s get out of here man!” He yelled.
“I’ll rip that thing off you and beat you with it,” Boston jabbed as he moved closer.
“Oh yeah,” Anthony replied as his other wing sprung out.
He focused hard on controlling his wings, feeling them, being connected to them. With every bit of will power he had, he managed to flap the enormous, leathery appendages one time. The blast of air sent Boston tumbling back into a desk. He clumsily stood back up and turned tail with his brother, falling over one another as they scrambled out into the hallway.
“That's my boy,” Mikey yelled and broke into applause. "Just try to screw with us again!"
Mit and Steve laughed while high fiving one another. They charged at the door like they were going to give chase, but stopped short and glared down the hall with puffed up chests.
“That was awesome!” Mit yelled.
Anthony tried to repress his childish smile which resulted in an awkward smirk. He’d finally done something with the useless wings he’d grown to love.
“This is serious guys. They could tell someone.” Anthony said as he started to reason the consequences.
“Bro, no way, no one would believe those clowns. Remember last year when they told the school Ethel Brackstein had turned into a yeti?” Mikey laughed.
“Yeah, or when they said there was a swamp monster in the gym bathroom.” Mit giggled.
“Or when they said I was the stay puft marshmallow man,” Steve blurted out just as he tore into a bag of Cheetos.
“Where were those two headed in such a hurry?” Ms. Sniz walked in sipping on her coffee.
Anthony quickly turned around, his wings instinctively tucking into his back.
“Um, he said detention was for nerds,” he replied while he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder to hide the tears in his shirt.
“They’re crazy if you ask me, especially when such a good teacher is here.” Steve added, never missing a chance to suck up.
Ms. Sniz smiled at him and returned to her desk.
“Well, since you gentlemen have been behaving so well you can leave early and consider your time served.”
Everyone except Steve cheered and headed to the door. Steve hung back. He lowered his head and walked up to the desk.
“How can I help you Stephen?” Ms. Sniz asked, smiling politely.
“Well…well Ms. Sniz. It’s just you’re such a great teacher and I really, really need a math tutor.”
“Oh, most certainly Stephen.”
“Yeah! So you’ll help me.” Steve grinned from ear to ear.
“Of course I will. Mrs. Hunock is an excellent Math teacher. I’ll have her get with you tomorrow.”
Steve’s face fell and he let out a long sigh. “Um, nevermind I’m good.” He blurted out before turning around and darting out of the door.
Mrs. Hunock was the ninety-six year old mathematician that always reeked of onions and castor oil.
“What was that about?” Anthony asked as Steve joined them.
“Oh, nothing. Where we headed?”
“To the beach,” Mit grinned.
“Might as well, I’ve been disowned by my future wife.” Steve sulked as he trotted along.
“Got an even better idea dude.” Mikey said while pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket.
It was a purple business card with yellow writing on it that read “Madame Mimi’s Psychic Impressions.” Anthony stopped and looked at him. He took the card in his fingers and looked it over.
“Where’d you get it?”
“I found it, must’ve fell out of Boston’s pocket when you beat him up.” Mikey smiled.
Anthony shook his head. Steve had suddenly forgotten about his lost love and was staring at the card with greedy eyes.
“Why not,” Mit smiled. “Let’s do it.”
Outnumbered, Anthony conceded and they headed off to find the psychic gypsy. The address on the card was not too far from the school and within minutes they were standing outside of a tiny shack that read “alm Reading,” because the P in the neon sign didn’t work.
“Whose dumb idea was this?” Anthony asked. Mikey shrugged and opened the glass door pushing the hanging beads out of the way.
“Let’s go guys,” he smiled.
They packed into the small, dimly lit lobby and rung the tiny bell at the desk. Anthony looked around at the empty walls and purple colored carpet. Aside from the sign outside, there was nothing that really made this place look anything like a psychic’s hangout.
Mit reached over and banged the bell again. A heavy hand reached up from behind the desk and grabbed his wrist.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that again,” a raspy female voice rang out. Mit jumped back falling into Steve.
An older woman languidly stood up from behind the counter, her frayed, gray hair shot out in every direction. Her tanned skin bore lines of aging that put her somewhere around eighty. She wore mascara and lipstick, but had the appearance that she’d put it on in the dark. A long, black shoal hung to the ground and she gripped a gnarly wooden cane as she hobbled around the counter.
A loud snap of thunder shook the windows and lightning illuminated the lady’s face, making it look ghastly. The boys huddled together as rain pelted against the door.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Anthony whispered.
“I’m Madame Mimi, welcome to my shop.” The lady’s deep voice croaked. “How can I help you boys?”
No one moved. They stood in silence staring at each other. The wind outside swept the rain sideways and peppered the window like gunfire.
“Don’t be shy, Madame Mimi does not bite.” She smiled at them then snapped her head to the side and in a whisper spat “Apa trece, pietrele raman.”
Madame Mimi giggled then slowly turned to face them. Anthony took a step backwards followed by Mikey and Steve. Mit lingered a bit too long and she reached out and took hold of his wrists.
“You remind me of my nephew back in Romania; of course he is dead now.”
She released his arm and Mit tumbled backwards. She turned her head again and whispered.
“Azi fura un ou, maine un bou. Yes, yes the one who flies.”
She whipped back around and stared into Anthony’s eyes. He was frozen, locke
d in a daze. He tried to turn away, but couldn’t break eye contact.
“She knows dude.” Mikey whispered.
“Of course Madame Mimi knows,” she declared loudly in an agitated voice. She snapped her head and Anthony fell back.
“Come with me now, we shall see what the bones have for you.” Madame Mimi demanded as she disappeared into the back.
“We need to go.” Anthony said, slightly out of breath.
He turned to the door and reached for the handle. There was a bright flash and the sound of thunder rumbled right outside the door. Anthony paused then pushed the door open and a gust of wind slammed it back in his face.
“I think we’re stuck, we might as well see what she has to say.” Mikey started to walk towards the back.
“You know, you really are the dumbest person I know,” Anthony replied. “We need to leave!”
The wind blew harder at the door and another bolt of lightning shook the small office building. Anthony shook his head. He wanted to leave, to run out into the storm and sprint home, but it seemed fate had a different plan in mind. With a heavy sigh he reluctantly followed Mikey into the back. Madame Mimi was already situated at a round dinner table with a severed rabbit’s foot in the center.
“Sit, sit now!” she demanded.
Anthony shrugged and grabbed one of the furry, green chairs and took a seat across from her. Mit and Steve still stood at the doorway staring with open mouths.
“Do not make me ask you again,” Mimi spat.
Dust fluttered into the air as they gathered at the oblong table. The wood was slowly rotting and in serious need of polish. The room was even dimmer than the lobby and was filled with random trinkets. Strange knives and ornate plates hung from the walls. Animal hides and other random body parts were stacked on tables in the corner.
Madame Mimi hung her head down as the boys got seated. Then she suddenly jolted up and leaned backwards humming loudly. Her eyes rolled around in her head as she began to chant in Romanian.
