Matters of Circumstance Page 4

  Michael, who had class with them next, fell into step next to Ruby easily. “What are we talking about?”

  “Apparently Neal’s talking like me now.”

  “Yeah, what about it? Old news already, O’Brien—oh, speaking of which: you had better know about the party happening this Saturday. They’re trying to beat Robin’s, so it should be off the hook.” He gestured at her vaguely. Michael seemed to have made it his goal to get to her live a little. His efforts had lessened now that she had begun spending time with Neal (who was apparently good for her), but her party life was clearly still lacking. “You’re going, right Farrah? Tell me you’re going.”

  “Saturday? Oh, I don’t know, schedule comes out today, so I’ll find out if I can go later.”

  Ruby snorted.

  “Yeah, uh-huh.” Michael said this with a teasing sort of smirk as they entered the classroom. “Who do you really want to be with, huh?”

  Farrah rolled her eyes. “Michael, you know it’s not like that. I do enjoy a good party every once in a while.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause we all know how much Farrah loves beer pong,” Ruby chortled.

  He hummed, and Farrah knew at this point he was only doing it to harass her. “Yes, but that while is getting longer and longer…” he said in partial singsong.

  At that moment the bell rang, so she was saved from having to come up with a response. She didn’t hear anything more about Neal’s alleged speech changes for the rest of the day. This was probably because the Robin-challenging party was the only thing anybody could talk about, but it gave her a false sense of security anyway. She made the foolish assumption that she wouldn’t hear mimicry comments again.

  Naturally, she was proven wrong.

  “Hi Shellie, what’s the toughest drink you guys make?” asked Neal, leaning against the counter and glancing up at the drink board above the register as if it was all written in Greek.

  Farrah, who was supposed to be making the drinks, found herself completely unsurprised by this. How like him to harass her at work.

  And Shellie, traitor that she was, told him exactly what the toughest drink was.

  Neal’s face split into a mischievous grin. “Perfect. I’ll have that in a medium.”

  “Oh you would, wouldn’t you?” said Farrah to herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t make the drink; she just needed to concentrate on it in a way that none of the other drinks required.

  Shellie told him the price, but he was already pulling the money out. “Sure thing—and Farrah? It’s nothing personal, I swear.”

  Her ass it wasn’t personal. He was thoroughly enjoying himself right now. “Yeah, yeah,” was all she said.

  He laughed and dropped his change into the tip jar (he hated loose change, she had discovered just recently) as he moved over to the pickup counter (“Thanks Shellie, you’re the greatest!”). When they were more or less facing each other he cooed, “Aw, don’t be miffed, Farrah. I’m paying for a tiny fraction of your paycheck by doing this.”

  “Who says I’m miffed?” she asked, finishing off the drink with a caramel drizzle. She handed it to him with a customer-service smile. “I think you’re going to love how sweet this thing is, is what I’m thinking.”

  This seemed to intrigue him. “Really?” Neal took a small sip and his eyes widened. “Wow—and you didn’t make it like this to pick on me?”

  “No.” Only he would do that sort of thing.

  He was really impressed by this. “Holy damn, cavity in a cup—no wonder you weren’t complaining about having to make it. I can feel the sugar rush already!”

  “Double mocha cappuccino, cold, Farrah,” Shellie said.

  “Oh, right, I’m distracting you—well, see you later!” With that Neal made his energetic way out of the shop with his coffee.

  Farrah stared for only a second, and then she shook her head.

  “He’s starting to talk like you,” Shellie commented in between customers. If Farrah was to be any judge, then she said it a little too casually.

  For herself, she could only sigh. “Yeah. So says Michael and Ruby, too.”

  “You doubt it?”

  “I just talked to him, and I still don’t see it,” she said truthfully.

  Shellie made a thoughtful noise, but nonetheless let the subject go. Honestly, it wasn’t as if the way Neal talked actually mattered in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t like it meant anything at all.

  Yeah, that was what she would keep telling herself. That was it.

  *****

  Farrah tried her best not to act like it, but privately she felt guilty for not talking to her parents about her condition.

  “Morning,” she said as she came into the kitchen.

  “Morning,” her mother intoned from behind the newspaper.

  “Hey Farrah,” said her father with a cheery smile. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “After school I think I’ll go to a friend’s house for a while,” she said, trying to ignore the pang of guilt. Her parents didn’t even really know about her friendship with Neal. “I’ll be home for dinner.”

  “Oh, good. I woke up with the craving for pot roast today, so I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind making it, since yours always somehow turn out better than mine?”

  Her mother made a small noise of amusement and turned the page. Since she couldn’t cook to save her life, she got her kicks out of listening to her husband and daughter shove meals on each other like this.

  Farrah smiled reassuringly. “Sure thing. I can come home a little earlier.”

  “Oh thank you. You know how much I love your pot roasts.”

  She tried to imagine herself coming out with it all right now, revealing that her best friend was the guy responsible for helping her through the ordeal of growing wings. She tried to see herself lifting up her shirt and hoodie to show them the pale, leathery appendages folded against her back.

  She knew that her parents wouldn’t take things as well as Neal’s. They would try not to let it bother them, but it would. They would both have a hard time looking at her afterwards; they wouldn’t be able to get past the fact that their only child, their golden girl, was a freak.

  Farrah would rather hide in guilt than lose her parents to circumstances she couldn’t control.

  She finished breakfast in a strangely melancholy mood. School did not make her feel much better, however, because it was positively buzzing with… inanities.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Neal was practically flabbergasted. “The Farrah O’Brien has no idea what’s going on at this school?”

  “What do I look like, People magazine?” But at his expectant look her resolve broke. “I had a bad experience with rumors, once. Totally killed my impression of this girl I was really good friends with, and then I found out it wasn’t even true,” she confessed. “But it was already too late to fix things. That was middle school, and I haven’t let myself get involved since.”

  “Hmm, good reason.” He was back to normal already, so she guessed that his ulterior motive had always been to know her story.

  “What about you? You asked me, so you must have a grain of curiosity yourself.”

  “No such thing. I was just making conversation—gossip is pathetic. I’m glad you think the same.”

  Which wasn’t at all what she had said, but before she could point that out Ruby approached. “Hey guys.” There was an impossibly huge grin on her face.

  Neal exchanged a look with Farrah, and after an embarrassingly obvious eye-conversation she asked, “So what’s got you so happy?”

  “Well, you know that chick I hate? Chelsea?”

  “Chelsea Malone? Yeah, you’ve mentioned it a couple hundred times.”

  “Not that Farrah’s noticed or anything,” Neal said. He started laughing when she frowned at him.

  Ruby was ignoring this. “Well, it’s about her—everybody’s talking about it!”

  “Oh, okay.” And that was all she cared to know.r />
  “Uh-huh. I’m totally thrilled,” she said as she pulled out her cell phone and made a quick text. Then she looked up. “So did you do your math homework? I tried, but I didn’t understand any of it.”

  “Oh yeah.” Farrah rummaged through her bag and pulled out her notebook with last night’s homework in it. “Study away.”

  “Thanks, Fare, much love,” she said as she whisked away—presumably to study, but no one could be sure.

  Neal watched this with interest. “Is she going to give that back?”

  “Oh yeah. I always see it again by lunch.”

  “And if you get the questions wrong?”

  She smiled wryly. “Somehow Ruby always understands what we’re being taught when she studies my homework,” she said. “She’ll let me know if I make any mistakes.”

  There was a small pause, and then he developed a playful expression. He said, “So I’m dying to know: are you going to this Saturday’s rave?”

  Farrah shrugged. “I don’t have work, but I’m still thinking about it. You?” Sometimes it didn’t seem like it, because he had recently been spending so much time with her, but Neal was pretty popular himself. His easygoing personality charmed nearly every person he met.

  Not that she would know or anything.

  “I’ll go if you go,” he said with raised eyebrows, daring her to respond in an original fashion.

  “Sure, but I’m only going if you’re going.” She was only half-serious about this. “One of us has to decide sometime.”

  “Okay, we’re not eight-year-olds here—”

  “I’m not, anyway.”

  Neal gave her a slightly exasperated look and she smirked. “We can either settle this the mature way, or the obnoxious way,” he said.

  “I’ll follow your lead?”

  He actually appeared to be considering something, and then he said, “Honestly, parties aren’t my thing. I don’t even really like drinking, much as the typical eighteen-year-old stereotype would like to differ.”

  “Same here. I mean, they’re okay, but the only thing really great about them are the stories you tell later,” she said with a nodding. “I can do without just fine.”

  “Actually, you know what sounds fun right about now? Laser tag at the mall—have you ever done that? It doesn’t sound like much, but the adrenaline rush is crazy.” It was funny, the way Neal’s whole face lit up at the thought of laser tag. He really was like a little kid.

  There was something refreshingly incredible about that.

  The moment was killed when he noticed the book sticking out of her bag. “Hey, isn’t that one about role reversal? Totally insulting to guys?”

  “If you think about it, the way women used to be treated—still treated, in some countries—is pretty insulting, too,” she said simply. “And besides, it’s only an experiment with what would happen if women ruled the world.”

  “Yeah, we read it in History last year—isn’t that why you’re reading it?”

  She nodded again. “It’s pretty interesting, actually. Almost makes you glad the world isn’t run by estrogen,” she admitted.

  “Yeah, don’t you feel bad for all those guys?” There was something strange in his voice, like an ulterior motive or something. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean.

  “Actually.” Farrah looked down at the book, a little embarrassed. “I—I think there’s something kind of endearing about them. It’s kind of sweet, the things they put up with, how they’re so eager to please—”

  “Endearing? Are you kidding me?”

  “Well, you probably hated it,” she said, wrestling her crazy emotions down to look him in the eye casually. “The guys in my class are all complaining that they want some really macho knight in shining armor, the air of mystery and danger—something to make them look good as a gender, you know? The girls agree, too, but I don’t know. I’m weird ‘cause I always root for the underdog.”

  Neal raised an eyebrow and quipped, “You sound pretty passionate, are you thinking of writing a book about it?”

  “No, someone’s already done that—” she gestured to said book with another wry smile “—I’m just trying to make a point: everybody seems to prefer the tall, dark and handsome type, but I’ve always wanted to choose the best friend who’s always been there, or—you know—the nice person. So I can kind of see what’s going on in this book, in an extreme sort of way.”

  At this point Farrah knew she wasn’t making much sense. She knew she was talking too much, and the way it wouldn’t stop was like word vomit. If Neal’s expression was any indication, then he realized it, too. It made heat flame in her cheeks.

  She gritted her teeth. ‘Shut up,’ she told herself. ‘Just shut up right now.’

  “You know what I think?” Neal said finally.

  She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to ask, but she did anyway, “What?”

  With an enigmatic smile, he reached out and patted her on the cheek. “I think all this media brainwashing we’re surrounded with is getting to you. Take it from a real person—in their own way most guys are both, not one or the other.” And he nodded several times, as if to further accentuate this point.

  She didn’t expect it to, but that was when it hit her, bulldozing her consciousness with all the force of a semi screaming down the highway.

  Neal was like that. He was exactly like that. He was both.

  What he said made perfect sense, but for what felt like the first time in her life Farrah was utterly speechless.

  Chapter 5

  “Neal, I have the growing pains and weight loss, too,” she said as soon as she was at his house and helping to feed his wings through the slits in his t-shirt.

  He really needed the help these days, because his wings seemed to have acquired a mind of their own. They randomly twitched and flexed even at school, where he tried so hard to keep them folded and unnoticeable. Farrah’s didn’t give her this problem, but she also didn’t build the strength in hers like he did, either.

  She got whapped in the face with his right wing when it finally shot through the shirt and expanded. Her own only twitched feebly beneath her layers as she clutched at her nose and cursed.

  “Jesus Christ! Farrah, I’m so sorry,” he cried, spinning around and lightly touching her arms as her hands slipped from her face. She was not really hurt, just shocked. In all the times she had helped him (and she had been doing it pretty often these days), this sort of thing had never happened. Behind Neal, his wings were opening and closing in agitation. She knew that he was genuinely concerned about her.

  “No, I’m okay,” she said, pushing him off. “It just surprised me, that’s all.” She lifted her head and smiled at him reassuringly.

  Neal watched her for a couple more seconds, but eventually let it go. “I am sorry, though. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “I know, and everything’s fine. We’re good.”

  “So what did you just say about growing?” he asked, seemingly eager to change the subject.

  Usually it was her. What a nice change.

  “Just that I’m feeling growing pains, too, and I’ve started losing weight.”

  “You have? Oh, well, it has been about six weeks for you—here, feel what it’s doing to me.” He held out his arm, but she just looked at it.

  “What about it?”

  “Try hold it up.”

  “Oh, okay.” She touched the underside of his forearm, and felt it when he stopped supporting himself. She had never consciously compared it to what he had felt like before, but she knew that this was lightweight for anybody. It wasn’t that he was skinny—there were actually modest muscles in his arms and abdomen—he was just… light.

  As if his very bones had been hollowed.

  Farrah’s eyebrows shot up as she realized this, and he pulled his arm away. “I actually fell slower than usual today,” he said. “It’s probably a combined effort of the muscle-building and losing all this weight. While I’m probably goin
g to have to start taking calcium supplements since I can’t afford to lose any more, short flights might actually be possible by the end of the year.” Then he glanced at her hoodie and made a face. “And no offense, but your control wings are pathetic.”

  “I know,” said Farrah. “And I’ve been meaning to ask: should I keep doing nothing?”

  “I’m actually afraid I might have damaged your ability to build strength in them,” he said somberly. “Obviously the experiment was a success, but you should start exercising them as soon as possible.”

  The intensity of Neal’s gaze made her falter. “O-okay. I will.”

  For absolutely no reason at all, they kept looking at each other. Farrah had never thought it possible to do as they said in the books and get lost in another’s eyes, but right now she literally couldn’t think of anything except blue. Blueblueblue.

  Then Neal’s father walked by singing Young Love by Air Supply in an off-key undertone, and the moment was over.

  “Hey Dad,” said Neal, cheery as always.

  “Hiya Neal—listen, if your mother calls I’m in my bathroom, okay?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll tell her.”

  Only at that moment did Farrah realize that he had been using that response a lot more lately. Sure thing was her default; she was famous for it.

  She waited until the door to his dad’s bathroom shut to simper, “People have been saying that you’ve started talking like me, but I never believed them until now.”

  Neal grinned back with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “What? I say ‘sure thing’ once and all of a sudden I’m talking like you? I thought you were less judgmental than that, Farrah.”

  “No, now that I think about it, you have been talking like me these days. More than a few times.” This line struck her as very flirtatious, but while her mind was sounding alarms, reminding her again and again that things weren’t like that for Neal—that he acted the same with everyone—her body just wasn’t listening. Or perhaps it was that, for once, Farrah didn’t want to be held back. Even if she was rejected, at least she would know that she hadn’t pretended like what she felt wasn’t special.

  Because it was special. Neal was her hero, her confidant, her support, the friend who didn’t care about superficial stuff as long as she was wholly herself. From the start, he had always been exactly what she needed—Farrah would have to be brain-dead if she wasn’t smitten.