The Winged [HIATUS]

Chapter Nine

“To do anything truly worth doing, I must not stand back shivering and thinking of the cold and danger, but jump in with gusto and scramble through as well as I can.” -Og Mandino

[ C H A P T E R  N I N E ]

_________________

“As you know, I grew up in Montana,” Tempest begins. “I was technically adopted. My parents found me wrapped up on their doorstep with a nametag attached to my blanket. Even being born as an orphan, using my wings came as second nature. I still had to learn, of course, but I was flying proficiently by age three.”

“I flew at the same age,” I inform her.

Tempest’s mouth twists into a scowl. “Try not to interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway,” she sighs, resuming her tale, “my parents loved me like I was their own. I was very much a daddy’s girl. I mean, I loved my mom, but Dad and I were inseparable.”

I notice her use of past tense, but I allow her to continue.

“I really wanted to show my wings to Dad, but every time I thought about it I’d get a nasty feeling in my gut. Mom always taught me to trust my gut because it was hardly ever wrong. So I kept my secret.

“I started kindergarten at age five. Since my parents were devout Christians – especially my dad – I was enrolled in a nice little Catholic school. The teachers weren’t nuns or anything, but we did have to wear uniforms. My teacher’s name was Ms. Frepple.”

I can’t stop a few snickers from escaping.

“Don’t laugh!” Tempest scolds, but she is choking back a chuckle or two herself. “That’s really her name. Anyhow, a week or two into the year something happened. My friend Lydia and I were playing on the jungle gym when some kid – I think his name was Sean – dared me to climb the Devil’s Tree. That’s what we called the tallest tree on the playground. It was nearly dead; its branches were black and curved like claws. The older kids had told us a story about a boy who tried to climb the Devil’s Tree. One of the branches snagged his shirt and supposedly sent him tumbling down to a neck-snapping death.

“Still, I couldn’t refuse a dare. The last guy who chickened out of a dare was stuck with the nickname ‘DoDo’. Whatever that meant. So I looked Sean square in the eyes and accepted. As we trekked across the playground, Lydia tried to talk me out of it, but my mind was made up.

“When I actually stood under the Devil’s Tree, my resolve faltered. In my little kindergarten mind, this tree was the most fearsome creature to ever grace the Earth, planted by Satan himself. Sean told me I’d have to climb at least halfway - without being seen by a teacher, of course. So I swallowed my fear and hoisted myself onto the first branch. Then I jumped to the next one. And the next one. It was a lot easier than I’d thought it would be. I felt like a monkey.

“I had made it to the very top of the tree by the time I was spotted. Other students began to circle around, watching me with bated breath. At least three teachers raced over and told me to stay put while they called the fire department. I yelled that I could get down by myself, but they insisted that I remained still. The branches were very thin up there.

“Well, I didn’t want to just sit and wait. My branch was starting to crack. So I did the next best thing: I jumped. I unfurled my invisible wings and took a flying leap into oblivion. The students screamed and backed away; the teachers cried out and ran to catch me. I didn’t need their help – I landed without a single scratch, like an Olympic champion. The teachers fussed over me and made sure I was really okay… then they suspended me and called my parents to take me home immediately.