We Never Asked for Wings Read online

  It wasn’t how his grandmother had raised him.

  She’d raised him to avoid sugar and to always be early and to shake hands hard, not to talk back or question authority or stay out all night with his girlfriend. That he would even tell his mother not to wait up was proof of how far he’d fallen from the standards his grandmother had set, and the fact that he could parrot the teenage attitude he’d always despised shook him to his very core. He was not the kind of kid who flung accusations or said things that were purposefully hurtful. But that was exactly what he had done. The fact that his mother didn’t collapse under the weight of his words didn’t ease his guilt—if anything, it made him feel worse. She probably thought she deserved every word he’d said.

  At four o’clock he couldn’t lie in bed any longer. The red-eye flights had started to land, the roar a predictable rhythm. He’d never get back to sleep now anyway. Feeling around in the dark, he found the jeans with the hole in the knee that Yesenia liked best and a T-shirt that didn’t smell. The kitchen was quiet as he packed his bag. Alex was surprised—all week his mother had been up almost as early as he had—but she was still asleep as he pulled on his boots and slipped outside.

  He wanted to go see Yesenia, but he knew he shouldn’t. Carmen would just be getting home from work, and anyway, his worry was starting to annoy Yesenia. She was fine, she said, and under a thick layer of makeup she looked fine, looked like someday she would be able to forget it had all happened. But Alex knew he never could. He couldn’t sit in honors science and raise his hand and act interested in cancer gene variations and immunization patterns when, across the freeway, Yesenia was being singled out, intimidated, even hurt. It changed everything.

  Crossing the freeway, he started the long walk to school. It was still dark out, too early for even Mr. Everett to be in the classroom, so when he got to Elm Street he took a detour. He hadn’t seen his father since the night they had dinner. He didn’t know if Wes had called again, but he hadn’t been to the house, and Alex was starting to wonder if that was it—a brief, awkward dinner before they all went back to their independent lives. But when he crossed the street and looked up, Alex was surprised to see the downstairs lights on. Wes sat in the kitchen window, drinking coffee and staring outside. He was waiting for him. Before Alex could decide whether or not he wanted to be seen, Wes popped up and disappeared, reappearing a moment later on the front porch. He wore plaid flannel pajama pants and a baggy T-shirt. His feet were bare.

  “Off to school?”

  Alex nodded, neither of them acknowledging that it was just five o’clock in the morning, too early for even the most serious student to be headed to class.

  Wes jingled a key ring. “Want a ride?”

  “Sure.”

  He opened the passenger door first and then walked around, and they sat in silence as he backed out of the driveway. At the end of the street he stopped, looking back and forth and back and forth again. The street was empty, but he didn’t move. Alex rolled down his window and smelled the early-morning air.

  “Can’t sleep?” Wes asked.

  “No.”

  “Me neither.”

  Wes stared straight ahead, no longer even pretending to drive, and Alex studied his profile, disheveled hair partly covering one eye, smooth skin freckled across his temple. What would it be like to be Wes, a busy man with an important research job and a sudden son? It couldn’t be easy. Shaking his head, Alex tried to expel the thought. He’d spent his entire life worrying about his mother, and now there was Yesenia. He didn’t have mental space for another.

  Wes turned on the radio, a blast of local news and then a jazz station. His thumbs tapped the steering wheel. “You know what’s keeping me up?” he asked. Alex shook his head no. “I can’t figure out why you aren’t mad at me.”

  Alex considered his question. It would be the normal teenage response to so many of the things he had experienced lately: his mother’s abandonment, his grandfather’s decision to move home, Wes’s surprise knock on the door. He flipped the sun visor down and looked at himself in the small mirror, trying to see a flicker of irritation, resentment, fury, anything. But he saw only himself, wide-eyed and worried. His entire life he’d wished for his father’s return; now, he wanted only for him to stay.

  He flipped the visor back up. “I’m just not.”

  “But why not?”

  Alex was quiet. He didn’t have an answer.

  Wes studied him, looking for one. After a time, he continued. “I don’t know why you aren’t mad, because I don’t know you. And as much as I tell myself that life is long and I shouldn’t rush it, I just keep thinking that: I don’t know you, and even if I get to know you now, I’ll never know you as a little boy, or as a baby.” His voice broke, and he stopped talking suddenly. With the car in park he revved the engine, a noisy expression of all he couldn’t say, then shifted into gear, speeding through stop signs and around corners until he pulled up to the curb in front of the school.

  After a long time, he said: “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

  Alex looked out the window. The campus was still dark except for bright lights over the pool; the swimmers were there even earlier than the scientists.

  Pulling his backpack from the floor to his lap, Alex opened the door. “It’s okay,” he said finally. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

  Wes took a deep breath. “I am here,” he said, all the speed and anguish of his earlier monologue replaced by a tiny, quiet peace. “If you want me here, I’m here.”

  Alex nodded, and even though they weren’t looking at each other, he knew Wes could see it: the small consent. His father was here to stay. Whatever he’d said about international travel and research, he was here now, if Alex wanted him to be. And he did.

  Alex stood up and put his backpack on. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime,” Wes said and then, leaning over the passenger seat so he could see him, added: “And listen. I remember being fifteen. It’s not all about hanging out with your dad on a Saturday night. You don’t have to worry about offending me if you’ve got other things going on.”

  “You’ve met my mother,” Alex said, frowning as he thought about Letty’s recent ban on all things Yesenia. “I’ve got absolutely nothing else going on.”

  Wes smiled. “Then I’ll pick you up on Saturday. We’ll go paint the town red.”

  It was just an expression, but Alex imagined them, in matching plaid pajamas, lugging around a bucket of red paint. Waving good-bye, he turned toward the now lit science wing, backpack suddenly light.

  —

  Mr. Everett jumped up when Alex entered the classroom. Even with the slow drive and wrong turns, Alex was the first to arrive that morning, and Mr. Everett locked the door behind him and pulled a chair up to his desk. He motioned for Alex to sit down.

  “Just the person I wanted to see.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “I am.”

  Alex swallowed hard, preparing for the lecture he should have known was coming. Their project ideas were due in three weeks, and he hadn’t even started. He’d planned to dive in this week, but with everything that had happened, it was all he could do just to sit through class every day without falling asleep.

  “I was going to start, I just—” He unzipped his backpack, rustling around for some kind of proof of his intention, but there was nothing. He hadn’t brought a single book.

  “I’m not worried about your project. I’m worried about you.”

  Had the change in him been that obvious? It was the problem with being always positive, always eager, he realized now: everyone noticed when you weren’t.

  His teacher waited until he’d dropped his backpack and looked up. “Listen. You can’t let it get to you.”

  Alex startled. How did he know? Had his mother called the school? But she didn’t even know; at least he didn’t think she did. Confused, he tried to think of another explanation and waited for Mr. Everett to explain. Fina
lly, he did.

  “I know the competition is intense,” he said. “No matter how I rant against it, it’s always this way, every year. But you can’t let it get to you. Jeremy’s got a bigger ego than you do, but not a bigger brain—don’t let him make you feel like he does. And Miraya—she has a great idea, but she won’t be able to pull it off. She’s involved in too many other things and doesn’t have the patience or the time for the kind of data collection her project demands.”

  Alex nodded, filling with understanding and relief: Mr. Everett was talking about the competition, not Yesenia. His teacher thought he’d shut down under the pressure. It was good. Not true, but good because it was believable.

  “It’s hard,” he said, not meeting his teacher’s eyes. Alex was talking about something else entirely. Before Yesenia, he’d gotten a thrill from the intensity of the class, enjoyed both the high stakes and the pressure. It was only because she’d been hurt that he found it hard to care; it had nothing to do with anyone else’s ego or ideas.

  “So ask for help, then. When I tell you all on the first day of class to act like scientists, that doesn’t mean you have to do everything on your own. In fact, you shouldn’t. The best scientists know how to collaborate.” He paused, but when Alex said nothing, he kept going. “Let’s brainstorm. Think about what you have to work with.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean: tell me what you know, what you love, what you’re interested in. And we’ll go from there. Tell me about the birds.”

  Alex didn’t want to talk about it, not any of it. But he could tell from his teacher’s expression that, until he talked, he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “It was my grandfather,” he said finally. “He’s a feather worker, or at least he used to be. He left last year.”

  “What’s a feather worker?”

  Alex was surprised that Mr. Everett didn’t know about the feathers, since he’d had his mother as a student. But then Letty had never been as interested in the feathers as he was—she probably had never told her teacher about them. “It’s a kind of artist. He makes mosaics out of natural bird feathers. No dye. He left me his feathers when he moved home.”

  “How are they organized?”

  “By color, date, and species. He’s been collecting them for over thirty years.”

  Mr. Everett let out a low whistle.

  “Well, there’s your project,” he said. “The first thing you need to do is make a list of everything you can learn from a feather. You’ll be surprised, I think, when you look into it.”

  Mr. Everett studied him, waiting for confirmation that the conversation they’d had would end in Alex returning to some semblance of the student he’d first met. It was against his principles to give such direct advice. Alex had heard him say more than once that coming up with the right questions was even more important than coming up with the right answers. But Alex had needed direction and he’d given it to him; Alex was grateful.

  “Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

  Mr. Everett nodded. “Good. Now get to work and leave me alone before Miss Faye comes in and yells at me for not taking attendance again. I’m trying to catch up.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  “You know I won’t turn down an offer of free data entry.”

  Mr. Everett smiled and opened a desk drawer, pulling out a packet of Pop Rocks. “Here. The chemical reaction is scientifically proven to make you more productive.”

  “Really?”

  “No—but sugar always helps, don’t you think? And these have the added benefit of keeping you awake.”

  Alex took a handful of the pink candy and put it on his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut as small explosions occurred inside his mouth. It hurt, but he liked it, and when Mr. Everett offered him more, he took the whole bag.

  Attendance was open on the computer, a plain white screen with a list of Mr. Everett’s classes in a bar on the left-hand side. He would start with zero period—he could do that one without bothering his teacher for absences. It was rare that a student was late or absent from his honors class, and Alex could remember them all himself. But when he clicked on the link for attendance, a time-out message popped up on the screen; Mr. Everett needed to sign back in.

  “Can you log me on?”

  Mr. Everett was on the other side of the room, opening boxes of molecular module kits.

  “It’s just my last name, and the password is my last name and my room number, no spaces,” he said.

  The login redirected Alex to the system’s home page: tabs for teachers, for administration, for enrollment. He clicked on TEACHERS and then found Mr. Everett and was finally back to where he’d started, zero period, honors science. He marked everyone present except for Sophia, who’d missed Monday for a student government field trip.

  Excused, he marked beside the absence, not even considering for a moment marking her absence unexcused just because he could, just because she always did everything so perfectly.

  —

  When school let out, Alex ran all the way to Yesenia’s. He wasn’t supposed to see her alone anymore. Letty had told him to come straight home, and Carmen had changed her work hours so she could be there after school to make sure that Yesenia made it back to their apartment unharmed. But Alex went there anyway, and hid behind a wheelless camper van in the parking lot until Carmen got into her car and drove away.

  The door was already open when he climbed the stairs.

  “How was school?” he asked immediately, searching Yesenia’s face.

  “Fine.”

  She said it too fast to be believable. “Really?”

  “Will you stop asking? You’re not my dad.”

  Alex flashed on his own dad, hairy bare toes on the brake, hand trembling on the gearshift. “I saw Wes again this morning.”

  “Really?” Yesenia asked, her expression changing. “Cool.”

  “Maybe you can live with him.”

  Yesenia rolled her eyes and blew through puffed cheeks. “Would you stop already? I told you I’m fine.”

  They’d been breaking rules right and left to see each other, and all they did when they were together was argue. She pulled him down the hall, so the neighbors wouldn’t see him and report his visit to her mother. Looking at him in the fluorescent lights of the living room, she scowled.

  “You look awful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, really, you do.”

  He sat down on the couch, under the row of smiling Yesenias. The real Yesenia was not smiling. “I haven’t really been sleeping.”

  “I don’t think I’m the one you should be worried about.”

  “You aren’t the first person to tell me that today.” He leaned over to untie his shoe. The double-knotted laces had tangled; he yanked at them as he continued. “Mr. Everett cornered me before class. He asked what was going on with my project.”

  “What is going on?”

  The laces on the first shoe wouldn’t budge. He gave up and moved on to the second, which untied easily. He pulled off the shoe. “Nothing.”

  A sour smell emanated from his socked foot; Yesenia backed away from him. “Seriously? You were so excited about it. What’s going on?”

  Alex felt heat rise to his face, embarrassment and frustration both. “Do I really need to explain to you, of all people, what’s going on?”

  Yesenia crossed her arms and leaned closer, so close he could smell peppermint on her breath. “No, but you need to get it together.” There was a long face-off, in which Yesenia waited for Alex to respond, to promise he would get it together and move on, and Alex said nothing. Finally, Yesenia stood up. “I think you should go home. Sleep, or work on your project or something. I don’t want a zombie dropout for a boyfriend.”

  “Fine.” Alex stood up to go, but the thought of leaving Yesenia when he’d just gotten there made him pause. “Do you want to come?” he asked. “You haven’t even met my mom.”

  “I can’t leave. I promise
d.”

  “I promised too, but I’m here.”

  Yesenia gave him a look that said: Well, maybe you shouldn’t be, and Alex turned to go, snatching up the one shoe he’d managed to take off and marching to the door. If she wanted him to leave, he would leave. Outside he took the stairs two at a time, staggering awkwardly in only one shoe. Yesenia laughed, watching him struggle as she struggled, all day every day, with one leg longer than the other. But he was too mad to find it funny, just ran all the way home before ripping his muddy sock off in the parking lot and stumbling, out of breath, through the front door.

  “Where’ve you been?” Letty asked, poking her head out of the kitchen. Luna was in front of the TV, as she was every day after school now. The house smelled like onions.

  “Nowhere.”

  He filled a glass of water in the kitchen and carried it to his grandparents’ room. Letty turned off the stove and followed him. He expected her to grill him, but instead she sat on the edge of the bed, eating chopped, blackened onions off the tip of a wooden spoon.

  “Taste?” she asked, extending the spoon in his direction. He shook his head no. “You okay?”

  Alex groaned. He wished people would stop asking. Setting the glass of water on the nightstand, he flopped facedown onto the bed. He was not okay, clearly. “Not really.”

  Rolling over, he looked up to where his mother sat, licking the spoon and waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “Is it about Wes?”

  “No.” He couldn’t tell her about his fight with Yesenia—she would just take his girlfriend’s side, and tell him he needed to get it together. But she wouldn’t know what she was talking about.

  “So what is it?”

  It’s my life, he thought, feeling overwhelmed by everything at once. Family, girlfriend, school: the three together felt like dry ice inside a bottle, about to burst. But it was more than his mother could handle, and so he told her only the least complicated, most pressing of the three. “I haven’t even started my science project.”