Bloom

by Kenneth Oppel

  “Mom, have you heard from Dad?”

  The question had been looming, unasked, over their whole conversation. She’d been afraid to ask, afraid of hearing no. She’d tried Dad herself, just before calling Mom, and got the usual message: The customer is not available at this time.

  “Not yet,” Mom answered.

  The phone here was old-fashioned, with a curly cord that connected the handset to the base. Anaya kept twisting the cord around her index finger, until it was so tight the fingertip was red and swollen.

  “Where do you think he is now?”

  She remembered those little lodges on the eco-reserves. That’s where he’d sleep, with all the chinks between the timbers, the black vine slipping through at night, exhaling its terrible perfume and stretching toward the sound of gentle breathing.

  Mom said, “I don’t know, but—”

  “Maybe he’s already on his way home, right?”

  Two days he’d been gone now, traveling by boat from one eco-reserve to another. Anything could have happened to him. A water accident, or falling into one of those plants.

  “Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

  “I wish he were back.”

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” Mom said, which was what moms were supposed to say—but right now it didn’t make her feel one bit better.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. Carlene gave her a professionally supportive smile. Behind her, Seth and Petra were watching.

  “I should go,” she told Mom. “There’s only one phone here.”

  “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She wiped her eyes, and dragged a tissue from her pocket. It reminded her of how little she’d had to blow her nose lately. How much she’d changed in these past days.

  To her complete surprise, Petra came over and gave her a hug. She relaxed into it gratefully. When they were little, they were always slinging their arms around each other. All that had ended a long time ago. It felt good to be hugged now. She squeezed back, and then Petra pulled away and went over to the phone to call her own parents.

  “I’m going to have a shower,” Anaya said to no one in particular.

  She grabbed the toiletries bag from her suitcase, then locked herself in the bathroom. It was good to be alone, and be done with all the needles, and masks, and beeping things attached to her. For today anyway. Dr. Weber had said there’d be an MRI scan tomorrow morning for all of them. Painless, she’d promised. You just lie still inside a metal tube with headphones on.

  When she peeled off her jeans, she was embarrassed by how hairy her legs were. She didn’t remember them being like this during her examination. It couldn’t have grown in just a couple of hours, could it? She swallowed back her unease. She’d shave right now in the shower. Pulling off her socks, she grimaced at her hideous toenails. She poked the big one. It wasn’t sore. Just long and thick. And it had a wicked point.

  She suddenly remembered that kangaroo video Fleetwood had shown them—it felt like a thousand years ago. The shape and color of the kangaroo’s claw were a bit like her own toenail.

  Her unease ignited into panic. Was something wrong with her body? Dr. Weber had said she was very healthy, but maybe she was just saying that. She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to reassure herself. Her face was clear, and she’d barely gotten used to that: looking at herself and thinking she might be a little bit pretty. Was she going to lose that so quickly? The thought came with a flare of anger. She couldn’t get all hairy and weird with kangaroo toenails right now.

  From her toiletries case, she dug out her clippers. When she tried to cut the toenail, she couldn’t squeeze down hard enough. The nail was too thick. On the second try, she pushed down with all her might, and the clippers snapped into pieces and clattered across the bathroom tile.

  The black toenail didn’t even have a scratch on it.

  * * *

  PETRA KNOCKED ON the bathroom door, bobbing up and down impatiently.

  “Anaya,” she whispered to the door. “I really need to go.”

  The shower wasn’t even running. What was Anaya doing in there?

  From behind the door: “Can’t you use the other bathroom?”

  Geez, way to treat someone who just gave you a hug when you were crying.

  “Seth’s in it, and he’ll probably stink it all up. Please.”

  “Okay,” Anaya said. “Hang on.”

  Petra heard a click and entered hurriedly, just as Anaya disappeared behind the shower curtain. Petra tugged desperately at her jeans, and dropped down onto the seat at the exact moment the shower came on.

  She was glad of the noise, and gave a long sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been holding it. It just snuck up on her suddenly when she was on the phone with Mom.

  She glanced around the bathroom in disapproval. Anaya had already messed it up pretty well. The shelf was crammed with all her stuff, and the back of the toilet, too. She wasn’t sure which towels and washcloths had already been used. How could it be so hard to keep things tidy?

  From behind the shower curtain came the sound of vigorous splashing.

  “Don’t get me wet,” she called out to Anaya.

  “I’ll be careful. Are your parents okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It sounds pretty bad on the island,” Anaya said.

  “They’re telling people to stay inside, but there’s been a bunch more accidents with the pit plants. They’re everywhere, and the roads are mostly shot. There’s supposed to be a new helipad set up by tomorrow morning, though.”

  She listened to the sounds of Anaya in the shower and felt a familiar stab of longing. To feel water rushing over her. Except for that glorious big rain, it was a sensation she hadn’t had for years. Not awake, anyway—only in her dreams.

  She checked the backs of her thighs, and felt the new patches of skin. Was it even smoother than her old skin? It looked and felt firm and healthy, but she hoped the rest of her wasn’t going to molt like this. It was freaky.

  She shifted to grab some toilet paper, and winced. Her backside hurt. Probably all those uncomfortable chairs today. She gave her tailbone a gentle poke, and her breath caught in her throat. Instinctively she pulled her hand away, but then forced it back. What she touched felt like the tip of a little finger, jutting out. It was thin but firm, with a knuckly bit.

  She jumped to her feet, legs shaking. She twisted and flexed but couldn’t see her tailbone, and the mirror above the sink was mounted too high.

  She took little gulps of air. “Anaya. Can you—come out here?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need you to look at something.” It was hard to keep her voice calm when she wanted to scream.

  “Pass me a towel?” asked Anaya.

  She snatched a bath towel from the pile and pushed it through the curtain. A second later Anaya emerged, wrapped up, looking a bit alarmed.

  Petra wasted no time. She turned around and touched the place. “What is this?”

  “Well, it’s just like a bit of…um, it’s grown out from—”

  “Is it a tail?” She forced the words out through gritted teeth.

  She heard Anaya take a breath. “Um, well…”

  “Just say it!” she hissed.

  “I guess, yeah. Yes.”

  Petra swallowed. Her head felt like a radio playing all the stations at once. She’d been too young to remember the tail she’d been born with. But the moment her fingers touched it just now, she’d known it could only be one thing.

  “Why would it start growing again?” She pulled up her jeans. First, these weird patches of snake skin, and now…

  “Don’t freak out,” Anaya was saying.

  She whirled to face her. “
I have a tail!”

  Anaya patted the air with her hands. “Maybe they just grow back a little sometimes. Anyway, you got your last one snicked off, right? They can do it again.”

  “Is it really gross?”

  “If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t even have noticed.”

  She tilted her head. “You’re lying.”

  “Just a bit.” Anaya winced apologetically. “It’s just a tiny…cute little tail.”

  Petra gave a snort of laughter, and couldn’t stop. It was insane to be laughing right now, but it felt good. It helped beat back the panic bashing around inside her head.

  Anaya held her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Still giggling, she could barely get the words out: “Think of…the fun you’ll have…telling everyone at school.”

  Anaya’s entire body suddenly seemed to deflate. Her shoulders sagged and her head drooped.

  “I’m sorry,” Anaya said. “Really sorry. It was such a rotten thing to do.”

  Petra was silent for a moment. She’d been waiting to hear those words for so long.

  “Why’d you do it?”

  Anaya covered her face with her hands. “I was jealous, because you got so pretty. And you can do that pouty thing with your mouth.”

  Petra felt her cheeks flush. “What’re you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Anaya said. “The puffy-lip thing.”

  “The what? Seriously, I…” She trailed off. What was the point of lying? “Okay. Look, it took me a long time to practice that.”

  “I knew it,” Anaya said behind her hands.

  Petra made a grunt of impatience. “You think it was so perfect for me? I’m allergic to the one thing humans most need to survive! I was freaking out. I had to go see a counselor! I would’ve traded being pretty for just being normal.”

  She wasn’t sure if this was entirely true, but it came out in a rush. Anaya looked genuinely surprised, then nodded, like she was seeing something for the very first time.

  “Okay. But I could see you getting friendly with Rachel and all of them, and I was worried you were going to dump me. So that’s why I told people about the tail.”

  “Not the best way to stay on my good side.”

  “I know, it was so stupid. Forgive me?”

  She wasn’t sure if she could trust Anaya, but she wanted to. And it wasn’t as if she herself had tried to save the friendship. “When you told everyone, at first I was mostly just really hurt. And then I got angry, and wanted to hurt you, so I started ignoring you, and saying mean things behind your back.”

  “Can we be friends again?” Anaya asked, peeping out between parted fingers.

  Petra couldn’t help laughing. “I’ve never had a friend as good as you. So yes, we’ll be friends again. As long as you invite me to your birthday party.” She let out a breath. School and birthday parties seemed like a very long time ago.

  “I think I have a claw,” Anaya said suddenly.

  Petra choked back another laugh. “Is this a joke?”

  “Look.” Anaya lifted her foot onto the rim of the bathtub. Petra bent closer. The nails of both big toes were black and pointy—and very thick.

  “You sure you didn’t eat any of those berries, or drink the rainwater?”

  Anaya shook her head. “And my legs are really hairy.” She parted her towel and showed her an unshaven part of her leg. It looked pretty thick.

  “Maybe you just haven’t shaved in a while,” she said.

  Anaya looked dubious. “I can’t remember it ever being this thick. I’m pretty freaked out.”

  “Me too.” Petra shivered. “There’s something happening to us. We’re changing.”

  * * *

  SETH SPRAWLED ON the sofa, paging backward through his sketchbook.

  Everyone else had gone to bed, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind and body were jittery, and if he didn’t do something, he’d just pace. Every once in a while he’d pull back his sleeves and look at the raised scars on his forearms.

  Over the years, he’d had dreams where he’d watched feathers poke through. Even when he was little, though, he never really thought he’d actually grow wings. It was just a story he told himself. It made him feel better, like the drawings.

  He looked at his sketchbook. He’d created a lot of winged creatures over the years, all different kinds. Some he’d seen in his dreams, some he invented. Would he actually grow wings? If he did, what would they look like? Most important, would they take him into the air?

  His heart raced. Slow down. Dr. Weber had only told him his feathers were coming back. That was all. Feathers did not necessarily mean wings.

  He gave a start when a door opened and Petra and Anaya emerged from their bedroom. Both looked surprised to see him. He closed his sketchbook.

  “We couldn’t sleep either,” Petra whispered.

  “We got hungry,” Anaya added.

  The two of them crossed to the kitchen area and started opening cupboards. They definitely seemed friendlier with each other now. Anaya waved him over. Gratefully Seth joined them. The kitchen was well stocked with cereal, cans of soup, boxes of pasta. In the fridge was a selection of ready-made meals, like the ones they’d heated up for dinner.

  Seth wasn’t hungry, but he grabbed some cans of ginger ale and sat down at the table. Anaya was rummaging around inside a cracker box with her hand. Petra scowled and called her a pig, then set out plates for cookies, a big bunch of grapes, and a brick of cheese.

  “I used to eat a ton of cheese,” Anaya said, sighing.

  Seth was about to ask why she stopped, when Petra told him: “Lactose-intolerant.”

  “Everything-intolerant,” said Anaya.

  “These are gluten-free,” Petra said, shoving another box of crackers toward her.

  Anaya wrinkled her nose. “They look gross.” She nibbled one. “They taste gross, too. I’ll stick with the grapes.”

  Seth cracked the tab on the ginger ale and took a slurp. The two girls were lost in their own thoughts—and they didn’t seem to be pleasant ones. There were worry creases in Petra’s forehead.

  “My feathers are growing back,” he blurted out.

  He was surprised they didn’t look more startled. Maybe they simply didn’t believe him.

  “Dr. Weber said so. She’s seen it before. Her own son had it, too.”

  “My tail’s started growing back,” Petra said.

  Seth felt an electric jolt go through him. “Really?”

  “And Anaya’s toenails have gone weird.”

  “Like claws,” Anaya added.

  “Weird stuff’s happening to all of us,” Petra said.

  He nodded eagerly. “We’re not like other people.”

  “Yeah, I think we’ve all realized that by now,” Petra replied.

  His hands were shaking a little bit. From fear, from excitement. He knew there might never be a better time to tell them. His thumbs crinkled the can of ginger ale.

  “I think what’s different about us, well, I think it started even before the plants arrived. Do you guys ever—?” He stopped himself. For the first time, he felt like they liked him. That he had friends. He didn’t want to wreck it.

  “Ever what?” Anaya said.

  “Just tell us, Seth!” Petra said, less patiently.

  “Do you guys ever have weird dreams where you’re going somewhere? Fast. And it’s really exciting…”

  He watched them. Petra’s eyes skittered around the room, like she was trying to chase something down. Anaya stared hard at a spot on the table.

  “And sometimes you have a headache, but then it goes away like—”

  “Like water spraying from a hose,” Anaya said. “Just gushing out of you.”

  Seth felt the hair on his
neck lift. “Yes!”

  He’d never thought of it like that, but that was a really good description.

  “And I’m flying,” he said.

  He’d never told anyone this. Not his foster parents. Not kids at school. Not his social workers—especially not the social workers. He sealed his dream memories in the vault of his sketchbook.

  Nervously he looked at Anaya. Petra still hadn’t said a word.

  “I’m not flying in mine,” said Anaya. “I’m running. And jumping. I can jump over all sorts of things. And there’s always somewhere I’m supposed to be going.”

  “This is crazy,” said Petra.

  “What about you?” Seth asked her, even though he already knew the answer.

  “I swim.”

  His entire body was trembling now, like he had a fever. He said, “I saw you in my dream the other night. You were swimming. And, Anaya, you were running.” He swallowed. “And none of us looked like ourselves.”

  A long silence stretched out.

  “So, what did we look like?” Petra asked.

  He grabbed his sketchbook from the sofa and opened it on the kitchen table.

  “There,” he said, pointing to the sketches he’d made after the dream.

  He watched Anaya’s face as her gaze flowed over his drawing. She lingered on the claws and the powerful legs. He saw her touch the top of her own thigh, like she was testing the muscle there.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  Petra’s face was pale and taut, as if she were chilled to the bone.

  “Why would you even think these were us?” she said angrily.

  “Well, um,” he stammered, “I said we didn’t look—”

  “No, these are just stupid monster pictures, Seth. Anyone can have weird dreams.”

  He didn’t know what to say, she seemed so furious at him. He felt a hot tingle behind his eyes, and worried he might cry.

  “I’m going back to bed,” Petra said, and stalked off.

  Seth swallowed and went to the fridge, just to open the door and rummage around for a second. Had he wrecked everything? When he turned, Anaya was paging backward through all his winged creatures. He let her.