Page 58 of Out of the Blue
‘I’m not blaming you!’ she laughs. ‘I just mean, you coming to Edinburgh, bringing us to Teacake . . .it changed everything.’
‘So you’re saying it was fate?’ I grin. ‘That’s not very atheist of you.’
She bumps her shoulder into mine. ‘Unlike other people,Inever claimed to have the answers. But, no, I don’t think it was fate. I still don’t believe in any of that.’
I tilt my head in the direction of Teacake, who is now struggling to lift a far-too-heavy Calum into the air. ‘Even after hanging out with an angel for the past few weeks?’
‘My gran used to say that God has His plan, and that everything, no matter how horrible, is part of that.’ She runs her hands through the flowers, brushing the edges of the yellow and purple petals. ‘Personally, I think it’s random. Chaotic, even. But I don’t think that makes it less valuable. If anything, I think it makes it more incredible – the fact that we’re here at all, just the happy result of some gas and dust and gravity.’
My gaze drifts back to Teacake. Her feathers catch the light, glinting blue-black-pink, like oil on water. I don’t know if I agree with her, but in a way Allie’s right: there’s so much magic around us, such breathtaking beauty, that it doesn’t really matter where it came from.
‘Did you talk to Leah?’ Allie asks.
I nod. ‘She called me on her way to Edinburgh. She and her dad are going to try to get her mum back, and then they want to go down south, or maybe even to France . . . somewhere the Standing Fallen can’t follow them.’
I’m silent for a moment, remembering our conversation. ‘Say goodbye to Teacake for me,’ Leah had said, half shouting over the hum of traffic. There was a pause, filled only by the sound of the cars zipping past. For a second, I thought she might have been about to say something – any of the things I’d wanted to hear for so long. But she didn’t, and in that instant I realized it honestly didn’t matter any more.
‘Thanks, Jaya. Really,’ she’d said instead. ‘You saved us both.’
‘What are you thinking?’ Allie asks. She’s gone still. When I look at her face I realize she’s anxious, waiting to hear what I have to say about Leah.
But there’s nothing to say. The person Leah was before the Standing Fallen is gone, just like person I was before the accident is gone. The people we were together have changed too. I know that a few months away from the cult will help Leah find her way back to herself, and that there’ll come a time when I can talk about Mum without my throat closing up. But whatever was between us is over, and it’s better that way.
I run the tip of my finger over the rose on Allie’s wrist. My eyes skip from her freckles to her eyelashes to the tiny diamonds in her earlobes, before slipping down to her lips.
‘I was just . . .’I swallow. ‘I was thinking it’s pretty ridiculous that we’ve rescued a Being, saved a girl from a bunch of abusive fanatics and possibly helped bring down an international cult together, but we haven’t even kissed yet.’
A slow smile spreads over her face. ‘You’re right. That is ridiculous.’
‘Well, then.’
‘Well.’
It doesn’t matter that she has to leave in a few days. It doesn’t matter that we live hundreds of miles apart. I put my hands on her face, and I finally kiss her. In those seconds, all that exists is Allie, her lips, her hair and her hands – and the shadows sliding across our skin as Teacake floats above us, inching ever closer towards home.
THIRTY-ONE
The glen has changed since November. Its winter-bare branches are now hidden behind a patchwork of greens, and the reddish leaves that littered the ground have given way to long grass and wildflowers. Birds flit through the trees. I spot a grey wagtail, followed by a black-headed bunting. Neither of those would have been here in winter. I wouldn’t have known their names back then, either.
It’s beautiful. But that doesn’t still the tight, fluttery feeling in my chest as Dad pulls the car up by the gate.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Allie stifles a yawn.
It’s just past five in the morning – early enough that we won’t bump into any dog walkers or birdwatchers.
I nod. ‘This is the place. It has to be here.’
It’s been six days since we rescued Teacake from the power station. Each one has given me bizarre and beautiful memories. There was seeing Allie finally finish stitching the last feathers to her wing, and watching Teacake’s face light up when she took to the sky afterwards. There was Calum teaching Rani and Teacake how to play chess, and the way his jaw dropped when Teacake eventually beat him. There was the stormy night we stayed in and watchedLes Mis(she was singing ‘One Day More’ for hours on end), and the boiling-hot afternoon we introduced her to ice lollies. There was hearing her hum along to Nina Simone, one of Mum’s favourites, and seeing Dad’s ears prick up when a bulletin about another Fall in Tunisia came on the radio – only to watch him switch it off and turn his attention back to Rani, laughing in a way he hadn’t done in months.
After that, there were our exam results. Allie got a full house of As, of course, and Calum got what he needed to get into his photography course. Even my own cluster of Cs and Ds, plus a B in French, was better than I could have hoped for. I actually found myself wondering what I might do with my results, and realized that I cared. That I still had things to look forward to.
More time with Allie, for one thing. We haven’t talked about what’s going to happen when she goes back home yet, but we’ve done more kissing. Quite a lot of it, actually. Calum’s started hurrying out of the room every time she and I come within less than a metre radius of each other (not that he has an issue with her being bi; he’d do the same no matter who she was making out with), but I don’t care who sees. I’ve had my fill of secrets for one summer.
There’s still one left. But I won’t have to keep it for much longer.
Now that Allie’s finished repairing her wing, Teacake’s flights have steadily grown longer. Last night, she disappeared for so long that I started to think maybe she had left for good, without saying goodbye – or, worse, that she’d been caught, shot down over the fields like a game bird. When she finally reappeared, something had changed. Her eyes were bright, and she was chattering in her own language, fast and high-pitched. I couldn’t understand the words, but the excitement was obvious. She’d seen something up there.
A streak of sadness tainted my relief. It was time.
