FIRE & FLOOD Extras

Chapter Four

When I'm almost back to my room, I hear a creaking sound. Crap. Someone's coming. I manage to wipe the tears from my eyes and throw my backpack into the closet, but I don't have time to jump into bed before my mom appears in the doorway.

She walks over to my lamp and flips the switch. Warm light washes across my room. She looks at me for a long time, so long, I wonder if she's forgotten who I am. Then she sits down on the bed.

"You're awake," she says. She doesn't sound surprised. It's more like a statement.

"Yeah," I say, not sure what else to say. I consider asking her about the device, if she knows what is on it. But I'm afraid of what she'll admit.

"I heard you moving around," she continues. I notice that she's holding something. Her hands work their way across it like she's smoothing it out. She sees me looking and holds it up. In the lamp's glow, I make out that it's a feather of green and blue and is attached to a thin leather string.

"This was my mother's," she says. "I don't remember much about her." My mom has rarely spoken of her own mother, and it's almost surprising remembering she had one. But of course she did. Her mother died when she was young. But that doesn't mean she didn't exist. Mom holds the feather up to her head and smiles. "I remember she used to wear this in her hair."

The smile slips from my mom's face. I sit down next to her on the bed. I'm about to tell her what I know, but she holds up a hand. At first, it's like she's stopping me from speaking, but then she moves to touch my hair. She pets the back of my head and I can't help but close my eyes. For the second time tonight, I feel like I might lose it.

"You have your father's hair," she says. Then she looks me dead in the face. "But you have my eyes."

I don't know exactly what she's implying, but it's not that we share the same eye color.

Mom moves the hair off my neck and onto my shoulder. Then she lifts the feather to the bottom of my scalp. Tingles shoot across my shoulders as she ties the leather twine attached to the feather into my hair. When she's done, she lets my curls spill across my back.

"You look beautiful, Tella."

I stand and look in the mirror. The vibrant green and blue feather lies over my right shoulder, mixed with a bit of my thick, curly hair. I look at my big brown eyes and wonder what she sees in them. Besides fear.

My mom stands suddenly and crosses the room. She wraps me in a hug and holds on to me for several moments before letting go. I think she's going to confess something, but she only says, "Good night."

I lie down on the bed, pretending I'm going back to sleep. At the door, she stops and glances back. Her eyes flick toward my open closet, where my backpack lies exposed. Her gaze returns to me and her face twists. "Your mama loves you."

Then she's gone.

I choke on her final words, willing myself to crawl back out of bed and grab my backpack once again. Stuffing clothes inside, I decide not to get any food from the kitchen. I need to leave now, and I can buy some in town. But I do grab the stash of money I have from months of unused allowance. I'm sure I must have almost two hundred dollars at this point. Because I have no idea of what I'll need, I also throw in random things from my desk: pens, paper, scissors, tape. The last thing I pack is a photo of my family that's stuck in the edge of my mirror. I can't bear to go without taking a piece of them with me. That and my glittery purple nail polish.

When I leave, I go out the front door. There's something definitive about it. Like if I use it, then I'm making some sort of statement. Even if I have no idea what it is.