Page 33 of Wings of Ebony
Next time we saw Moms, she was in a body bag. I’m not letting my sister go through pain like that again. At least one of us should have a childhood… a real one.
Two more city blocks and Aunt Melba’s street sign comes into view. I bolt toward it, pulling Tasha along. Auntie’s been dead five years at least, but no matter, spare key was always under the aloe vera plant ’round back.
“You sure about this?” she asks.
I’m not sure about anything at this point. Why my magic doesn’t work, who that guy was, if the Chancellor has found out who I touched, where we’re gonna sleep. My head’s going to explode. “We need off these streets so I can think.” I walk faster, more like a light jog. Tasha keeps pace as a rusted green carport comes into view. Sun-drenched siding covers most of the house, the parts that aren’t patched in graffiti’d wood. Chipped yellow trim frames the windows and door. No one’s visited here in a minute. Knew it’d be abandoned, boarded up still. Empty houses where I’m from just sit ignored for years, generations, forgotten by the city—just like the people who live here.
I cut a sharp glance around. “Come on, while the coast is clear.”
Tasha moves ahead of me and we cut across Auntie’s overgrown lawn. I pry open the side gate and it creaks in greeting. Tasha slips through first, then me. She’s so tall. Damn near my height and thin lines already dent her young face.
“Keep an eye out,” I say. “I’ma get the key.”
She shoves her hands in her pockets, teetering on her feet.
The porcelain planter is still in the spot I remember, dusty and sun scorched.
“You get it?” she yells, voice riddled with cracks.
I shove the weighty pot aside and a brass key glimmers from underneath. “Yeah, we good. Come around back.”
We follow the jagged concrete walk that wraps around the back of the house, making sure I step around the cracks littered with dead grass.Habit.A pair of metal chairs and a sun-scorched card table are piled against the back door, half-ripped cardboard boxes on top.
“Help me clear this.”
“I don’t feel good about holing up in Aunt Melba’s old house. Can’t we just go somewhere else? To my grandma’s? My pop’s cool, I swear.”
“T,pleasewith the questions. It’s just for a minute. You heard the cop, we need off these streets. I need a second t-to…”Figure out what the hell is wrong with my magic.“… to plan. We got the Chancellor after you and now whoever these dudes you are mixed up with here.”
“I ain’t mixed—” Her volume is ’bout three octaves too high.
“Tash, we are not talking about this out here. I… I… Just help me push this table.”
“You what? Tell me.” She folds her arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!” I really shouldn’t yell. She’s just worried. I still my shaky hands and try for a calm, level tone. “I’m sorry. Can you just grab that end? I need a minute to regroup, figure out what’s next.” I hoist up my end of the table and she helps.
Wecouldgo to her people’s house, but the questions. Oh, the questions. Where am I supposed to say I’ve been the past year? Everybody knows Moms got shot up and I just vanished. And even if I could come up with a convincing enough lie, I can’t have everynigga out there just know I’m back, hugging and touching on me, asking me why I keep my sleeves pulled down and never take my hoodie off.
I need a spotwithoutquestions, a space to breathe, to figure out what’s wrong with my onyx, and decide where the hell we’re gonna go. I chew my lip. I probably need to check in with Bri, too.
The sun burns my hands as we move the last bits of trash, making more noise than I intend to. Moments later, I’m slipping the key in the door.Please don’t let nobody be up in here.The brass slips smoothly in the hole and I blow a quick breath and push the door open.
Shadows retreat as sunlight rushes in. Hazy air, heavy with dust, makes me squint and cough. Something reminiscent of cat piss fills my nostrils.Ugh.My stomach hovers in the back of my throat as we step deeper inside.
Aunt Melba’s old flowered couch rests beneath the boarded-up windows in what used to be her living room. I move closer and a furry head pops out of a pile of blankets.
“Meow.”
I jump back. Idon’tdo cats. It apparently feels the same way, because bells jingle as it darts off.
“Aww, it’s so cute.” Tasha takes off down the hall, trying to call it back. She always did love cats. They lick their own asses. That shit’s nasty.
With Tasha out of sight, I try again to summon my magic, muttering a spell under my breath.
Nothing.
Then another.
