Young Writers Society

Elegy of Flight

Chapter Three: Bird

Why had she accepted? Why was there a strange pressure not to deny someone when they asked you. Especially when that person had an authoritative aura such as Anne.

Most of the previous class had already been missed, so Carina felt no guilt in spending the rest of it elsewhere. This was much to Anne's disapproval, but Carina's decision that if she wanted to see it would be now or never.

They were now perched on the edge of a wooden bench that had been found outside, under the roof of falling leaves that the sun had finally decided to peek through and warm their backs. Anne sat patiently, hands tucked away, as she peered over to Carina's lap where she held the folio. Carina tried the best to ignore her, not to think about her, she simply wanted so take the moment to herself to see what was contained within.

She turned the first few pages, every one was divided by a sheet of clean tissue paper much like that the sketches from earlier had been drawn on. Beneath the protective shield was coarser drawing paper. Birds flew over the pages, many times more detailed than the sketches she had seen before. Carina recognized a few scenes, the time the two of them lay on the hill, watching the swarms of migrating wings, a flock of black smudges, clouding the sky in a spiraling cascade.

There were blackbirds perched on branches, preening their feathers, catching the jealous eyes of a line of sparrows. The drawing became more and more abstract as the folio progressed. The birds soon became floating formations of feathers and furling wings. Soon figures began to grace the page, distant ones of people on the horizon, in the distance, trapped within feathers and cages, a sketch of two girls sitting on the hill, waiting the raven dark across the white sky. Carina caught her breath. There were sketches of herself in here. At first it was subtle scribbles, but slowly became more and more precise. Carina remembered the day she had been practicing her viola while Naomi was sketching. She hadn't thought twice of it, but now here she was, her likeness captured in a crisp pencil drawing, instrument in hand, over and over. The bow flourished with swirls as it gradually turned into a feather on the next page, finally engulfing her own body until she was just a note of music wrapped in a chrysalis of feathered limbs. The drawings diminished after that, back to that of caged doves and humming birds, until finally, a full double page was exposed, darkened to ever corner, filled in and inked to exact precision.

It was a drawing of Anne.

Bird Anne. Sitting alone, looking quite forlorn, with a pair of gigantic swan wings protruding from her back, the art had scratched shadows and refined gradients, which were combined to give the face of Anne a strangely serene feeling to it, like someone enjoying solitary walk, or someone who had recovered from an epiphany. Carina flipped the page quickly, the next was blank, as was the next and the next. It had been the last drawing.

Carina closed the sketch folio, beside her, Anne was quivering, not looking anywhere in particular, just out and away.

"You were close to Naomi?" Carina questioned out loud.

"No of course not!" The answer was defensive and so abruptly instant; Anne's face seemed flustered once again, like the first time Carina had met her. She bit her lip, eyes closed, then relaxed, breathing outward before facing Carina with a surprising impassive expression.

"It seems that you were the one who was close to Naomi."

"Well..." Carina started, tightening her grip against the edge of the folio, unsure what to say or where to begin.

"Save it," said Anne, standing up and dusting off her uniform, "you can tell me another time, it's nearly time for the next lesson." And just like that, she strut off to the sound of the chimes.

~~

Since of her avid involvement in playing the viola, Carina had only thought it logical that she take music class. However she found the theory tedious, and always got snapped at when she could not correctly name notes such as crotchets and demisemiquavers. Alistair was also in the class surprisingly enough. It could be supposed that he took out his lack of words in a cacophony of musical sound, but he only played the piano, and quite softly at that.

Alistair rarely had anyone who regularly sat by his side; someone who did not talk back was one not so entertaining to talk to, so once again Carina chose the seat beside him, away from the usual group she sat with. She was just in a mood, a deep and strange feeling that echoed the strangest and most sombre day.

The folio had made a large and uncomfortable square in her carry-bag, which bumped against her thigh with every step. It was a relief to finally let it fall away to the floor as she slumped into the chair.

Alistair's eyes were on her, they stabbed the words where were you? into her consciousness. Sometimes talking problems out was the best way to deal with them, so that was how Carina chose to release her own tension.

"Well that was a pain." She stated casually, "being dragged around the school like that, what a waste of time."

Alistair listened, then opened his mouth, he really was in a talkative mood today.

"Antoinette doesn't waste time." He stated.

Carina's face instantly folded into a massive grin, unable to keep her cheeks still, she let out a half-coughed laugh. Antoinette!? That was her full name? How fancy. It hardly suited her dark and formal disposition, Carina could now not help imagining the girl eating cream cakes at a sort of rich tea party, complete with classical dresses. As the humour settled, something more direly shocking dug into Carina's mind. How did Alistair know where they had been? How did he know she had been with Anne? Perhaps he saw them leave, that was entirely logical, but regardless-- why was he on such familiar terms of full names? And defending her?

For just the slightest moment, Carina thought that she saw him wink, so subtly, it could have just been her imagination. He turned away from her to resume his own business, pushing his hair back before chewing on his pencil. Alistair always had his hair combed back, tight and neatly, pushed away from his face and brushed behind his airs and down his neck. Carina had never seen him wear it any other way, never a strand out of place.

Carina stared blankly at the desk. Her mind was in chaos, she couldn't concentrate, not even for a moment. The teacher was lecturing on diminished sevenths, and although Carina was determined to learn, there was absolutely no way her mind was going to comprehend anything today. Not this weird day. This messed up, crazy, depressing day.

The only thing Carina could focus on was movement. The occasional step of the teacher, the fiddling of her own fingers, Alistair scribbling furiously with his pencil.

Why was he writing anyway?

No one else was writing. The teacher hadn't made any notes. Carina dared a peek at his paper, hoping that he wouldn't notice.

'I'm sorry for your loss' The words read.

'I understand that you were close. And this is not a common occurrence.' Was he writing a letter?'I have noticed that you have acted very indifferent on the matter today, be it arbitrary or not.' Could he be... was he writing to her? Was his words meant for her to read? Carina twitched in her seat, and looked at his, waiting for some sort of signal, but he did not lift his head, and continued to keep writing.

'It took you long enough to notice, Carina.'' So he was, but why? Why did he not just speak, despite the fact that the teacher was lecturing, could he not just say words later? Why in general did he never say words. At least more than a few at a time? Carina considered asking right there and then, but she had witnessed so many people ask him that exact question numerous times; his response had been nothing except a cold and hard stare. She peered back at Alistair's list, and re-read the words from earlier.

Carina's stomach turned into a shallow pit, a built up rush of the feeling of being stabbed within over and over. A sick feeling that choked up her breath and screamed through her teeth. Carina stood. She stood there for a long while. The complaints and questions of the teacher were distant, inaudible, the eyes of the students looked right through her. She felt lightheaded and unbalanced, she felt like her whole body was jumping up through her mind, leaving the tight compressed feeling weighing her down at the bottom of her abdomen. Carina pushed back the chair behind her, and it fell, clattering in her ears, louder than the whole world beyond it.

Then she ran.