Unearthly

“Okay. ”

“I can’t tomorrow night,” I say quickly, quietly, but I know Mom heard me. She has very good ears.

“Oh.” Christian sounds surprised. “That’s okay. How about Saturday?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to get back to you,” I say, totally chickening out.

“Sure,” Christian says, trying to act like it’s no big deal, but we all know, him and Mom and Jeffrey and me, that it’s a very big deal. “You have my number.” Then he quickly mumbles a good-bye and hangs up.

I close the phone. There’s a minute of uncomfortable silence. Mom and Jeffrey have nearly the same expression: like I’ve completely lost my mind.

“Why did you say no?” asks Mom. The million-dollar question, the one I so do not want to answer.

“I didn’t say no. I just can’t do it tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“I have plans. I have a life, you know.”

She looks angry. “Yes, and what could possibly be more important to your life right now than Christian?”

“I’m going out with Tucker.” All this time, I’ve been telling her that I was going out with people from school, and she believed me. She’s never had a reason not to. And she’s been too stressed out and preoccupied with work to pay attention.

“So cancel,” she says.

I shake my head and say, “No,” to indicate that she’s misunderstood me. I look at her. “I’m going out with Tucker.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” chokes Jeffrey, and I know it’s not because he doesn’t like Tucker, but because it’s simply so unbelievable to anybody in my family that I’d be interested in anyone but Christian. He’s why we came here, after all.

“No. Tucker’s my boyfriend.” I love him, I want to say, but I know that would be over the top.

Mom sets down her fork.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you before,” I say awkwardly. “I thought — I don’t know what I thought. I mean, I’ll still save Christian, just like in the vision.”

Only not like in the vision, I think, with the hand-holding and cheek touching and mushy stuff. But I will save him. That much I’ve decided. “I’ve been practicing my flying. I’m getting stronger, like you said. I think I can carry him.”

“How do you know your purpose is about saving Christian?”

“Because in the vision I fly him out of the fire. That’s called saving, right?”

“And that’s all?”

I look away from her knowing eyes. We belong together. That thought’s been like a piece of glass in my brain ever since I had the latest version of the vision. I’ve been going over and over it, trying to find a way that I might have misinterpreted what it meant. I don’t want to be in love with Christian Prescott. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But I’ll be there. I’ll save him.”

“This isn’t some random errand you have to do, Clara,” says Mom quietly. “This is your purpose on earth. And it’s time. Teton County went on high fire alert yesterday.

The fire could happen any minute. You have to focus. You can’t allow yourself to be distracted now. This is your life we’re talking about.”

“Yeah,” I say, my chin lifting a notch. “It’s my life.”

I’ve been saying that a lot lately.

Her face is pale, her eyes stony, lusterless. One morning when we were kids, Jeffrey found a rattlesnake curled up on the patio in our backyard, lethargic with cold. Mom went to the garage and returned with a garden hoe. She ordered us to stay back.

And then she lifted the hoe and chopped the head off the snake in one clean blow.

She has the same expression on her face now, stony and resolved. It scares me.

“Mom, it’s okay,” I try.

“It is not okay,” she says very slowly. “You’re grounded.”

* * *

That night’s the first time I ever sneaked out of the house. It’s such an easy thing, really, sliding the window open, stepping out, balancing on the edge of the roof for a minute before I summon my wings and escape. But I’ve been a good girl all my life.

I’ve obeyed my mother. My feet have never slipped off the path she placed before me. This simple act of rebellion makes my heart so heavy that it’s tough to get airborne.

I land outside Tucker’s window. He’s reclined on his bed, reading a comic book, X-Men, and this makes me smile. His hair’s shorter than it was yesterday. He must have gotten it cut for our monthiversary. I tap lightly on the glass. He looks up, grins because he’s happy to see me, and my heart twists inside me. I’m glad I didn’t turn out to be a messenger angel-blood. I hate to be the bringer of bad news.

He stashes the comic book under his pillow, and crosses to the window. He has to force it open, which takes some muscle because the air’s hot and heavy and the window sticks. His eyes dart briefly to my wings, and I see him trying to contain the instinctive fear he has every time he’s confronted with proof that things in this world aren’t quite the way they seem. Then he leans out and reaches for my hand. I put away my wings. I try to smile.

He pulls me into his bedroom. “Hi. What’s up? You look. upset.”