Duckling Ugly

an American flag? as if buying used cars and patriotism were one and the same. DEFIDO MOTORS TRIED & TRUE.

Twenty-seven miles out, a billboard featuring my momma in her pink Cadillac, pointy tail fins and all. DEFIDO MOTORS, WHERE FINS STAND FOR STATUS.

I realized that the gravity was pulling me due west now. But there were no roads that went that way. Although I couldn't see them, I knew what was west of me. The mountains. The nearest road that crossed them was miles away.

I was approaching the county line. Just a few more of my father's old signs, and I'd be out of his sphere of influence for good. My gas tank was full. My mind was set. And nothing could stop me from es­caping forever that hideous place 'where fins stand for status.'

Even in my weakened state, I couldn't help but get stuck on that phrase. It kept coming back to my mind. DeFido Motors, Where Fins Stand for Status.

Find the answers ... Where . . . fins ... stand ...

I slammed on the brakes so hard I fishtailed, and did a full one-eighty. I found myself facing the wrong way in the lane, with a truck bearing down on me.

I hit the accelerator and pulled off the road, landing in a ditch. The truck barely missed me, its blaring horn changing pitch as it swerved past.

Now my wheels spun in mud, and I knew there was no get­ting this car out of the ditch. Dizziness almost overtook me then. I clutched the steering wheel and closed my eyes until the feeling passed.

Then I got out of the car and headed back to the billboard on foot.

It was about a mile back. In the darkness, it looked com­pletely black. Only in flashes of lightning could I see it now, and only for a second. My momma looked so happy in the picture, but that was a long time ago. Now the old billboard was falling victim to the elements. Another year or so, and a few more storms like this, and it would be down completely. One side leaned forward, the other side leaned back, the wood was pulling apart, and the paint had faded and peeled.

Find the answers . . . where fins stand . . .

Right behind the billboard was a narrow, weed-choked path leading through dense trees and up a hill into darkness. I took the path and headed off toward the mountains.

The rain turned to sleet, and although the cold numbed the pain of my wounds, it also stole what little body heat I had left. I couldn't feel my fingers, couldn't feel my toes, could barely feel pain when I tripped and smashed my knee against a stone. I wanted to sleep more than anything, but I knew if I did, I'd die. It would be years before they found my body out here, if they ever found it at all. Resting was out of the question. The only thing to do was push forward, following the path, following the gravity until I reached its center.

I stumbled up one hill and down another, over and over, each hill steeper than the one before.

I can't remember when I stopped walking. I don't remember falling down. But I do remember the feeling of cold mud against my back. I do remember the stinging feeling of sleet hitting my eyes as I lay on the ground, making it hard to see anything.

Now I can sleep, I thought. Now I can sleep, and I'll be fine.

And I do remember the angels looking down on me. Solemn faces and gray robes that must have been hiding their wings. They took me in their warm hands and lifted me up.

Finally, I closed my eyes, satisfied, because I knew they were taking me to my reward.

Part two Eternessence

12 A feast of flowers

You can't wake up and still think you're dead.

No matter how strange your surroundings, there's something about being made of flesh and bone that tells you instinctively you haven't left it all behind. And so, when I opened my eyes to see a room with bright white walls and no windows, I knew I wasn't in heaven?but I wasn't anyplace on earth I knew, either. The light came from a large skylight above me, and through it I could see a clear blue sky. The rainstorm had passed.

'Good morning!'

I didn't know anyone was beside me until I heard the voice. I turned to see him sitting there next to the bed. A boy. He wasn't much older than me. He was clean-cut, had blond hair, a clear complexion, and pastel blue eyes. When he smiled I thought I recognized him, but knew I was wrong. His smile held no hint of deception; it was an honest smile, and I knew no one like that.

I sat up, expecting to feel weak, but I didn't. I felt completely rested.

'Hi, I'm Aaron,' he said, and gently took my hand.

His clothes were white, and at first I figured this to be a hospital?but the style of his clothes was not hospital-like at all. He wore an eggshell-white shirt, and an eggshell white vest. Even his pants were that same soft shade of white. It was such an odd combination, and yet it seemed so perfect, you might wonder why everyone didn't dress like this.

Aaron was handsome. Truly so. Not in a Marshall Astor kind of way, but in a way that went beyond mere good looks. I was happy just to gaze at him, then I silently scolded myself for being so foolish. That's when I realized where I'd seen him before.

'I... I've been dreaming about you!'

He smiled gently, as if this were no surprise to him. 'You probably have lots of questions,' Aaron said.

I nodded.

'Well, come with me,' he said. 'Time to find the answers.'

Like I said, I knew I was alive?no question about that, and yet when I stepped out of that little white room, I found myself in paradise. It wasn't just any paradise, either?it was my special one. 'Nowhere Valley.' This was the place I went when I closed my eyes. Oh, I didn't get it exactly right in my head; the moun­tains around this valley were higher than the ones in my mind. The houses I had always pictured in soft tones of blues and yel­lows were all eggshell white, and built in little clusters around the valley, not evenly spaced like I had imagined. But otherwise, it was every bit the same. The valley was the greenest I've ever seen, about a mile long. A stone path began at the small one-room cot­tage where I awoke and wound like a lazy river from this end of the valley to the other. If this was my new life, then everything I had been through had been worth it!

'Welcome to De Leon,' said Aaron. Then he took my hand without any of the hesitation a boy usually has when taking the hand of a girl, and he led me down into the valley.

My body ached as I walked, but I was so focused on the sights it didn't matter. At the first house we passed, a couple in their twenties was sitting on a porch swing, sipping lemonade, and they waved to us. Their clothes were the same shade of white as Aaron's, which I now knew were soft as velvet, pure as satin. I looked down at what I was wearing. They had taken away my shredded gown and given me a white dress as well, but it wasn't made of the same material as their clothes. What I wore was cot­ton, but their clothes made the purest cotton look as ugly as a potato sack.

The couple came forward. 'Good morning, Aaron,' the man said. 'Hello, Cara. It's good to have you here.'

I looked at Aaron, gaping. 'But... how does he know my name?'