A Softer World contest #3
Wings
When I was in high school, I knew a girl named Linda. She had sparkling brown eyes and yellow hair. Not filled with highlights, not like the way blonde gets on old people, but more of a bright, shiny yellow, like the pasta on a box of Kraft macaroni. Real golden yellow.
While other boys were playing Little League, I was trying to get her to notice me.
I think she was my first love.
She sat in front of me junior year in Physics, and all I ever saw of her was the back of her head. Once, I dropped my pencil, and she picked it up, and smiled at me.
Linda's smile was pure magic.
Eventually she figured out that I liked her and started talking to me. When her mouth was closed, though, I found things besides her smile to stare at. She had these freckles that stained her cheeks completely brown on top, and a nose so tiny I wondered how anyone could possibly breathe through it.
But I think what made me really like Linda was the fact that she could fly.
I saw her do it once.
Emily Johnson was standing in the hallway with her flock of sheep, not real sheep, they were girls, I mean, and Linda walked by, quickly, making sure to stick to the other side of the hallway. She was always good about following the rules. Kids like us weren’t supposed to look at kids like them. They were just too sparkling clean, and I guess their parents were afraid that we’d get them dirty. Emily paused and sneered at Linda, who stopped dead in her tracks.
Emily Johnson: Nice dress.
Linda’s face turned a color that sped past roses and wound up somewhere in the vicinity of a stop sign. She almost ran down the hallway.
I saw the whole thing, and I followed her to make sure she was okay. I had no intention of talking to her-this was years before Physics-I just wanted to be there so that she could look someone in the eye if she wanted.
She turned a corner out into the schoolyard and when I turned the same corner she was gone. I didn’t notice it, at first, but there she was, on the roof, letting the wind blow her around like a feather.
It was weird, sure, but I didn't mind. The longer I watched, the more mundane it became. She started out slowly and then she made circles and then she flew straight up and back down again a few times. As she flew, she sped up, getting faster and angrier with every loop. The most exciting part was when she stopped.
Then she sat on the ledge of the roof and let the tears come, or maybe they were streaming down her face the whole time and I just couldn’t see it when the flight wind was whipping at her. But when the tears reached the end of her nose they didn’t plop off; they sort of floated in the air around her until she scooped them away with her hand.
I don’t think she saw me because she tossed a handful of them at me. I caught some on my tongue like snowflakes; by the time they’d melted, I was in love.

