Winged

Chapter 1: Discoveries

What is up with this itch? thought Leo. Was he having an allergic reaction? Maybe it was varnish; the school probably varnished the chairs or the desks. He tried to ignore it. He was already having trouble concentrating on the test, as usual, but the itch on his arm was making it almost impossible. Naturally, he tried scratching it.

"Ow!" he muttered.

Blood dripped from a deep wound on his arm. Had he cut himself scratching an itch? His nails weren't sharp; he had trimmed them recently, even though they were getting harder to trim for some reason. But it looked like he had tried to pet an angry cat. His astonishment was short-lived, however, as one of the teachers watching the class approached him, to see what had made him cry out.

Leo showed him the cut, and the teacher told him to go get it dressed in the infirmary. He failed to explain how he wounded his own arm during a history test.

After returning from the infirmary, the test proceeded as before. Leo wasn't bad at school and teachers overall considered him a pretty good student. However, he had difficulty concentrating, especially in the last year or so, and the itch and the pain of the wound did not help in the slightest. At the end of the test, he left the classroom with his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground, not confident in his ability to do well on a test when he could barely focus. He didn't even wait for his friend Brittany before walking home.

On the way, he barely paid attention to anyone who passed him. He had a habit of letting his mind wander off, even while walking down the street. He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. It was as if all the things in the world simply failed to grab his attention. Instead, a variety of thoughts ran through his head, very few of them related to what was going on around him: the latest book he read, movies he wanted to watch, games he wished existed or platypuses.

As distracted as he was, one thing managed to take him out of his thoughts: a young girl crying underneath a tree where her balloon was stuck. The string had been cut or ripped, and the balloon was trapped in the branches. Since no one else on the street seemed to care, he decided to get the balloon for her. He reached for it, but as soon as he grabbed it, it popped.

The girl started crying even harder. Leo felt horrible and confused. He hadn't grabbed the balloon too hard, so why did it pop? He was so focused on that question and on the little girl that it took a long time for him to notice a piece of the balloon was stuck to his fingertip.

*****

"Oh, come on, it's not your fault," said Brittany.

"Yes, it was," replied Leo. "I just don't know what happened. Maybe the branch had thorns and when I moved the balloon it touched one and popped."

"See? Then it wasn't your fault. Stop crying about it."

"You didn't see how the girl was looking at me and sobbing. I felt like some kind of monster."

"Relax, Leo. It's over; you're never going to see that girl again."

Brittany was a bit younger than Leo, who had already turned seventeen, but they were both finishing their last year of high school. She was just as absentminded as Leo. Teachers and parents would usually tell them both to "get their heads out of the clouds and put their feet on the ground". Once, when they were much younger, Brittany had said to him, "I don't think they say that because they think the ground is better, but because they are afraid to fall from the clouds." Well, Leo thought, of course, no one can put their feet on the clouds. And it's quite a fall between the clouds and the ground. He didn't say anything though, as Brittany looked very satisfied with her philosophy.