The Winged [HIATUS]

Chapter Eleven

"Live dangerously and you live right." -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

[ C H A P T E R   E L E V E N ]

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“DAMN IT!”

Tempest nearly veers out of control, startled by my sudden outburst. “God, Ash!” she exclaims over the roaring wind. “What’s the problem?”

“This game,” I declare, “is the problem.” I wave my iPod around, illuminating her face with the eerie blue glow of its “game over” screen.

Tempest does a double-take when she sees what has upset me. “You’re playing Angry Birds?!” she asks, her voice rising in disbelief. “We are tearing through the sky at ninety miles per hour and you’re playing with your iPod?”

“I thought it’d be funny,” I explain. “Get it? ‘Cause we have wings?”

Tempest just stares at me.

“It’s a joke. Laugh at it. Ha ha.”

She repositions her sunglasses and refrains from commenting, but her cheeks give away the smile beneath her scarf.

I return to my game and start again from level one. We have been flying for almost two hours now. My wings feel like blocks of cement at this point, but I am successfully distracting myself with mind-numbing apps and AWOLNATION’s debut album on an endless loop.

Minutes later I am faced with another game over. “I swear, those pigs are mocking me!”

“You suck at that game,” Tempest remarks.

“Shut up.”

“I am simply stating a fact,” she says, holding up her hands in surrender. “Besides, Angry Birds is stupid.”

“Oh, really?” I bristle. “What could possibly be more addictive than Angry Birds?”

“Well,” Tempest begins, preparing to launch into a lengthy rant, “there’s Rat On a Scooter...”

I shoot her a withering glare, but I doubt she can see it under my shades. “What the hell is Rat On a Scooter?”

“Basically, you’re a rat on a motorcycle… You know what? This is a dumb conversation. When do we get to land? I’m running on empty over here.”

I have to concede her point there. My stomach has decided to begin eating itself. “I’m hoping we can make it to Cincinnati before we call it a night,” I say, sliding my iPod back into my pocket. I pull out a candy bar I’ve been saving and toss half of it to Tempest, who catches it effortlessly. “We should be there in a few minutes.”

“Awethom,” she says, her voice distorted by the mouthful of chocolate.

Several seconds later, a glorious city of lights appears on the horizon. Tempest and I squeal in excitement, adding ten miles per hour to our speed. A burst of adrenaline surges through my veins. We’re actually going to make it! Of course we still have to find a place to spend the night, but that shouldn’t be too difficult… right?

“Ash, where are we going to camp?” Tempest asks, practically reading my thoughts. Knowing her, she very well may have.

“If possible, I’d like to avoid getting a hotel room,” I say. “Maybe we could sleep in a church or an abandoned building…?”

“Yeah, let’s stay at the homeless shelter while we’re at it,” Tempest quips, tossing the candy wrapper at me. “I say we get a room. No one will recognize us.”