Feather Bound (5 page)

“Thanks for going, by the way. My father was an asshole, but he was still my father. I suppose. And I'm sorry for scaring you that day. I just… I couldn't believe it was you.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “Hyde,
where have you been
?”

“Come see me tonight.”

“What?”

“How about we meet by that ice cream shop at the corner of Sterling and Underhill? Nine o'clock?”

“I'm hanging up.”

“I'll tell you everything.” He rushed the words out as if he were running out of time. “Just… meet me. OK? Let's do something together.” He sounded half-desperate. It was almost painful to hear. Embarrassing.

I mulled it over, chewing the insides of my cheek, curling and uncurling my toes on the bed sheets. Finally, squeezing my free hand into a fist, I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Fine. But I can't stay out too late. I have a curfew.” Of course, Dad being out this late meant he'd stumble back home sometime around midnight too drunk and tired to care where his daughters had been all day. But Hyde didn't know that.

“Good, that's fine. I won't keep you too long, promise.”

“And just to let you know, it's not an ice cream shop anymore.”

“What?”

“The place on the corner of Sterling and Underhill. It's a thrift store now.”

“Oh.” Hyde's weak chuckles limped out of the receiver. “OK. I didn't know.”

“Things change.” I let a bit of my frustration slip into every syllable. I wanted him to feel it. “Guess you slept too long.”

I hung up.

5

REMINISCENCE

 

I'd planned to get to the thrift store at least fifteen minutes late, but who was I kidding? I checked my watch. Nine o'clock on the dot.

The night's chill sent a violent shiver down my back, still sore despite all the aloe I'd been rubbing on it. I bet it was my damn mattress' fault.

I glanced up and down the modestly busy streets, absently tugging on my sweatshirt. No Hyde. Not yet. There was a guy scratching his privates at the hotdog stand, though. Very classy. The vendor grimaced too.

Even after wrapping my arms around my chest, which usually gave me a false but comforting sense of security, I felt oddly exposed. I still wasn't entirely sure that this was a good idea, so I decided to stay out of the thrift store's light, which beamed out of overlarge display windows. Instead, I kept to the shadow of the alley next to it. At least that way I'd be able to see Hyde coming before he saw me. If I got cold feet I could sneak off without him noticing me. And of course, if he didn't show up, at least I wouldn't look like a jackass standing around in the cold.

I shuffled over to the alley, but the second I rounded the corner, I rounded back just as quickly. I pressed my back against the thrift store's dirty bricks.

There were two boys at the other end of the alley, behind a dumpster. Obscured, but not nearly obscured enough. By the sound of their voices they were fairly young – probably my age. But then there's only so much you can garner from moaning alone. It sounded heavy too.

Damn it, Hyde, this is on you
. I hated PDA with a fiery passion, if only because it reminded me of my own pathetic, non-existent love life.

“Stop!” one boy suddenly cried out, sharply enough for me to hear him.

“Come on, you said you'd show me.” From the sound of it, the older boy was not only older, but sly enough to pretend he was also wiser. I turned the corner again, making sure to keep hidden. He was taller too, broad and lean. He perfectly filled out the black jeans hugging his hips, though without more light, I couldn't tell much more.

Taking the younger boy's hand, he began to pull him away from the dumpster into the alley. For a second I could see the younger boy's hair, black bangs matted against his forehead, and his thin frame – deathly thin, clad in a beat up shirt that pooled around his waist. For a second, the younger boy seemed mesmerized, unable to resist the siren song calling to him. But at the last moment, he pulled back.

“No. I changed my mind, Jack. It'll hurt too much.”

Even from here I could see the older boy's body go rigid. “So what, Devon? Don't you trust me?” I wouldn't. The hard edge in Jack's voice didn't exactly inspire confidence.

What am I doing
? This wasn't any of my business. I boosted off the brick wall.

And heard a crash. It was the dumpster – or more precisely, a body smashing into it. I looked around. Some people walking by had obviously heard but decided it wasn't any of their business either. Or maybe they thought it was a cat. I swiveled back around the wall. Both boys had disappeared from sight, behind the dumpster, but every once in a while I could see the bodies thrashing. And I could hear muffled yells – muffled by a hand.

“Just let me see them,” Jack whispered. “Come on, you promised.”

First one feather. Then two. They fluttered to the ground.

“You said I can have you.”

Even with his voice muffled I could tell Devon was whimpering.

What do I do
? Every bone in my body told me to rush in and knock the other guy out, as if I could – but I had to at least try.

A surprise attack. I could sneak in and hit him in the back of the head or kick him in the nads. Something, anything. It's what Ade would do. But my body froze. I could hear Devon scraping against brick, but my feet wouldn't move.

I should have moved. Why wouldn't I move?

I felt it. Something deep and primal that grew heavier with each of Devon's feathers that fell to the ground. Something pulling at me from the pit of my stomach. Self-preservation. Fear. The instinct to protect myself. Against what? What was I afraid of?

My fingers pressed against the brick. I considered calling for help, but then that would mean exposing Devon. How could I know who was walking by and how they'd react when face to face with a young, vulnerable swan? The person who saved him could just as easily pick up where Jack left off.

“You can have mine too.” Jack's voice thickened with a kind of lust that shriveled me up from the inside. “Just like we promised.”

I was thinking too much. I needed to act.

I shut my eyes.

“Don't worry, Dee,” Hyde whispered beside me. He gave my shoulder a delicate squeeze, his fingers smooth against the crook of my neck. With a sharp breath, I jerked back, but before I could even see him properly, he walked into the alleyway.

“Hey,” Hyde said, and paused as if thinking of what to say next. “Stop that.”

The struggling indeed stopped. Jack practically leapt away from Devon, standing in the middle of the alley like a spooked stray cat, his hair bristling, his eyes wide, his body poised to attack. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hyde,” Hyde answered.

Really, Hyde?

But somehow, his almost cartoonish confidence made it easier for me to follow suit. Not with the confidence thing, of course, that wasn't going to happen. But at the very least I made my presence known.

“So what the hell is this? What are you guys, the fucking police?” Jack puffed out his chest, his false bravado clearly meant to sell his alpha-male façade.

Hyde didn't take the bait. “Do you happen to see any uniforms?”

“Well, douche bag, we were having a private conversation, so how about you screw off before I really get pissed.” As if heeding a wordless commandment, Devon slinked up to his side, or started to, but each step dragged. He never quite got within Jack's reach. But at least now I could see him clearly: fresh faced and ashamed.

Hyde moved ever closer to the pair with a sinister kind of sway. “First: private conversations work better in private places,” he said. He stopped right in front of Jack, who took a step back despite his not-too menacing glare. “Second–”

Hyde punched him – one hard hit to the jaw that launched Jack to the asphalt.

“Hyde!” I ran up to him while Devon rushed out of the way. “What are you–?” I stopped. One look at the quiet, stifling fury seething in Hyde's eyes and I stopped.

“Now, I just got here, so maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, but for a second there it looked as though you were about to do something people generally should never do.
Ever
.” Hyde loomed over the boy who rubbed his face and squirmed beneath him. Then, kneeling down, he grabbed Jack by his collar and pulled his face close. “I might punch you again,” Hyde said. “I'm mulling it over.”

“Don't!” It was Devon this time. Another feather slipped from underneath his shirt and got stuck in his shoe. His face flushed as he squeezed his hands into fists. “Did I ask for your help? God, j-just…” He pulled his shirt, scrunching the fabric in his hand so that it pressed against his back – maybe to keep more feathers from falling out. He stared at Jack, his lips trembling, struggling to find the words. “Just forget it!”

And he ran off. As soon as Hyde released Jack from his grip, the boy stumbled to his feet and fled too, though in the opposite direction. That was comforting at least.

Hyde stood up and dusted himself off. “Huh. Well, he'll thank me one day.”

I stared down the alleyway, my hand at my mouth. I'd never seen… I mean, people generally didn't do that sort of thing out in the open, if at all. I mean, it may have started out as consensual, but… tearing out someone's feathers in an alleyway… I mean wasn't that against the law or something? I was sure it was.

Hyde faced me. “Dee. You OK?”

Dee. He'd said it so casually. Like the last nine years, nine
seconds
hadn't happened. I couldn't even answer.

Any anger I'd seen etched in his face had already vanished as quickly as a whisper. His smile was soft, shy. He gazed at me as if studying every pore on my face – and there were many. Then, as if suddenly noticing that I could see him too, he turned, shifting on his feet. “Sorry I'm a little late. I had to go visit someone at the…” He cleared his throat. “Well anyway, I'm glad you came. Honestly, I wasn't sure you would.”

“Honestly, I'm not sure I should have.” Understatement. “I'm still not sure.”

“I understand. No, I completely understand. Man you've gotten taller. How old are you now? What, eighteen?”

“Seven… Wait, what? Just like that, you expect me to–”

But his eager smile was just too sincere. Everything about him was. The fidgeting; the avoiding eye-contact. It was the joy and excitement and nervousness of seeing an old friend again.

Maybe he really did just want to see me. Maybe not. I stayed silent.

“Let's go for a walk,” he suggested, straightening out the sleeves on his jacket. “We… we can catch up. Right?”

“And you can tell me all about the wacky adventures you've been having while me and everyone else who cared about you thought you were dead.”

He flinched. Oh, so he felt the sting? Good. Being alive meant feeling pain. It was his choice to rise from the dead. It was high time he got reacquainted with it again.

Hyde recovered quickly. Walking up to me, he offered me his arm. I didn't take it. “All right then.” He smoothed his hair instead. “But about the whole ‘everyone
else
who cared about me' thing? If I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure it was just you, Dee.”

I kept my eyes on the street.

 

Once the silence between us had become so unbearable I considered making a run for it down the intersection, Hyde decided to tell me why he wanted us to meet at Underhill. As if I didn't already know: Prospect Park. I guess the place still had meaning for him. I guess he remembered the times when we'd gone there, me with my bushy brows, him with his orthopedic shoes and that offensively lame bow tie he loved to wear because he thought it made him look cool. Ade and I would always mock him mercilessly on sight.

“Something funny? You're smiling.”

When I looked up at him, he flashed me a toothy grin, perfect white, just adorable enough for me to stop silently resenting him for about a second.

Seconds passed.

“Nope.”

“Really? Not even a little? Or maybe you smile at random intervals to confuse and thus emotionally manipulate your dates?”

Dates? I gave him an incredulous look. “I guess I just have zero control over the motor muscles in the lower half of my face,” I said flatly. “Which is one thing we apparently have in common. Or is there another reason why you'd call whatever the hell this is a date?”

At least he had the decency to look sheepish. “OK, I'll give you that.” And yet, while we'd been weaving through people at a comfortable distance apart, he seemed to take our exchange as a cue to slide closer to me.

Oh God. I shoved my hands into my sweatshirt pocket and stared at the traffic. “So, Hyde, are you actually going to tell me where you've been all these years or are we just going to exchange witty banter for a while and then call it a night? Curfew, remember?”

“France.”

I stopped. An angry-looking guy in a newsboy cap knocked into my left shoulder as he brushed by, but I barely noticed. “What?”

“Well, Paris, technically, though I did spend some time in Monaco every so often since it's close enough a drive–”

“You were in
Europe
?”

“Well…” He paused. “Kinda, yeah.”

My fingers twitched inside my sweatshirt. Funny. I didn't exactly know what I'd expected, and yet now all I could picture was him drinking champagne in some obnoxiously trendy nightclub surrounded by a troupe of gorgeous, scrawny French models hanging on his every word as he fed them olives and laughed it up. All while I was alone and depressed at home, trying valiantly to get over my dead best friend.