Young Writers Society

I hated therapists. In my experience, all of them were exactly the same. The same searching eyes, peering at your flaws, delving into your personal thoughts and feelings. Those permanent not-so-genuine smiles, dished out to butter you up, to soften you into submission. The same classic look of concern every time you were convinced, hey, maybe I can open up about my problems to this random stranger- it made my skin crawl, made me feel like I’d been drizzled with spiders and ants and all other manner of creepy crawling bugs. The concern stares left me exposed, and I always, always regretted ever opening up in the first place.

Call me overdramatic, if you want. But I hated therapists. I’m not even over-exaggerating about how they made me feel. For real.

My most recent therapist? Her real name was Janette Baldwin. I called her Twenty. For her honor in being my twentieth therapist in the last five years.

Now, this therapist. This one seemed to be the worst one so far. Imagine everything I said before, but multiply it a hundredfold. Toss in a dash- oh, who am I kidding? A bucket- of sour old lady grudges against my generation and the ultra-strong stench of kitty litter. See it now? I was having myself a party.

It didn’t help that her wings were baby-poop brown.

No, not enchanted tree bark brown or chocolate brown or even chestnut brown.

I repeat: Baby. Poop. Brown.

They sprouted out of her shoulder-blades like gnarled old tree branches in all their glory, the feathers matted and thinning to bald in some places. This coupled with the stink of used kitty litter was nearly enough to make me gag as I walked into her office for my weekly appointment.

Twenty gave me a large smile, full of yellowed teeth.

I avoided her gaze and sat down in the wooden chair in front of her desk. It groaned in protest. An accurate representation of my current mood.

Seeing my stone-faced features, she shut down her smile and reached for her freshly made cup of coffee in front of her. A gray kitten was printed dangling from the rim of the mug. Beside it, the words, Hang in there!

I watched as her wings curled inward, nearly caressing her precious coffee. Nice to see her priorities.

The silence stretched awkwardly, but I refused to break it. I only had to last the designated forty-five minutes.

Twenty cleared her throat. “Verity, child,” she said in a slightly scolding tone. “I assume you have been taking your medications daily?”

I kept my face passive. “Yes, of course I have.” No, I definitely have not. I decided to humor her expectations. “How else am I going to get better, right?” I don't need to get better. I am perfectly fine. Perfectly sane.

Twenty stared me down for a few long seconds. Her wings spread out, wide and dominating. Maybe you couldn't see it in her narrowed eyes, but her wings told me all.

This was her office.

Her specialty.

Like a bird, she was making herself big enough to protect her pride. She had been in the business for a long time.

Twenty was not about to fail on some stupid seventeen year old girl with a track record for flushing meds rather than taking them.

I offered her an innocent smile, the best I could manage. “Really, I'm doing fine.”

Twenty relaxed, her wings softening ever so slightly. She turned in her chair, reaching into a file cabinet, muttering something about “delusionalmillennials”. When she turned back around I was face-to-face with that Forever Fake Smile™ that most therapists liked to give me. She set the file on the desk before her.

“How have the hallucinations been, Verity? Have they died down at all?”

“Hallucinations? What hallucinations?” I asked sweetly.

Immediately, Twenty's wings snapped back to attention, spanning the whole freaking room. “If you've been taking the medication as you have said, then-”

I rolled my eyes. “It's a joke. Chill. I know you're psychoanalyzing me and all that, but it's fun to watch you trip sometimes.” Cough. “I mean, I just like to mix things up. I'm not trying to be offensive,” I rushed out. One day, maybe I'd learn to watch my mouth.

Twenty pursed her lips. “So the wings have disappeared… right, Verity?” She seemed to be testing me. Little did she know, I’d been at this lying game for a long time.

I plastered on a serious expression. “Yeah. I mean, I know they’re not real.” I paused. “Humans don’t have wings. That’s ridiculous.” I watched as Twenty’s wings perked up in anticipation.

“That’s absolutely right.” Twenty nodded, tucking a dusty gray strand of hair behind her ear. “You have made a lot of progress, I see. However…” She trailed off, opening my file and sifting through the pages. My heart beat against my ribcage. “Right here it says you’ve suffered from relapses, is that right?”

I swallowed, unsure of what to say.

“Your generation tends to let their pride be their downfall,” she droned, like a teacher giving a lecture. “Always pushing aside the fact that adults only want the best for them.” She smiled, but it looked more like a sneer to me.

I cocked my head. “I can assure you, Ms. Baldwin, I am completely fine.” How many times did she have to say the same line of bullcrap before she realized it didn’t affect me?

Twenty clasped her hands. “I see.” I bristled as she scratched something down on her notepad.

I plastered on a smile. “Any chance you could let me go early today, ma’am?” It was long shot, but… I had promised Cate and Alec I would come to that party tonight. It was supposed to be huge. One of those things that I surely wouldn’t have gotten invited to if Alec hadn’t extended the invitation, but hey. My two best friends were wrapped up in it being some kind of “ditching the shell” milestone for me, but we’ll see where that leads us.

Twenty arched a painted eyebrow.

I scrambled for words, anything to convince her. I had been absent way too often in my friends’ lives lately. At school things seemed to be different between us. Some sort of unspoken tension that permeated our lunch table. A statement that both of them were too kind to speak. The truth, if we were being honest here.

I had been the queen of crappy friends lately.

“See, Ms. Baldwin,” I began, smoothing my already wrinkle-free jeans, “I’ve been taking some of your advice to heart lately. Let’s face it, my social life is nonexistent!” I barked out a laugh. Kind of harsh, but I was right and we both knew it. “It’s Friday, and my friends are finally free. I thought maybe, like you said, I should put in some effort of my own, you know? I was invited to a party tonight, and I think I should go.” I bit my lip, hard, to keep from fidgeting too much. Normally I hated applying myself to others’ pity, but I had no other option. Well… unless I faked period cramps and I’d already done that before. Seemed like a one time thing.

“A… party.” Twenty’s lips turned downward into a doubtful frown.

Twenty, of all people, doubted my social skills! I really had reached a new low. “Nothing like a night surrounded by peers who are all just as virtuous as I am, am I right?” I took a breath. “There will be chaperones, I promise,” I added in a conspicuous whisper.

She stared at me. “Well…”

“I know, you’re getting paid for every minute of my time in here and I would hate to ruin any of that, but I figured you would be all for me expanding my comfort zones.”

She straightened the pen on her table. “You are right, I suppose,” she said, way too reluctantly in my opinion. “When do you need to be home, Verity?” she asked with a sigh.

I smiled. “Right now, preferably. Would hate to waste any more of your time.”

“Do you-”

I shot to my feet before my luck could run out. “Great! I’m calling home right now,” I said, pressing my phone to my ear and walking out of Twenty’s office. I didn’t stop until I reached the Wendy’s across the street.

I nudged the restaurant’s door open with my hip and strode inside, the automated chime announcing my presence. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, smiling as I caught sight of my two best friends sitting in a corner booth.

“Nothing like the smell of fried food, right?” I chirped, sliding into the space beside Cate.

Cate and Alec both sat up straighter in my presence, faces carefully blank. I smiled at them both. Each of their wings represented them perfectly, or at least I thought so. In my experience, I assumed that the lighter one’s wings were, the better a person they belonged to. There was Alec with his wings a light orange, the licking tips of a roaring fire. I think he’d be pleased to know that orange was a rebel’s color. His feathers were thick and unruly, fluffy like they were full of static. They were large, too. The wingspan could probably take up both sides of the whole booth we were sitting in without much effort. Considering how much of a klutz Alec tended to be, thank heavens all wings were as thin as air. Cate’s wings, on the other hand, were a light sky blue and sleek. So smooth that a part of me wants to ask what kind of heavenly conditioner she uses. I could only imagine what would happen if she could use them to actually fly. Maybe she’d break a sound barrier.

That sounded like something Cate would do.

I tried to keep my mind from wondering about things I couldn’t help. I had enough anxiety already; no need to add to the pile. Yet sometimes, try as I might, I just couldn’t help it.

I couldn’t help wondering about my own wings. I couldn’t see them. What they looked like, what they said about me. Wings… they were like the visual representation of the soul. Was I good person? Was I smooth and powerful like Cate? Or maybe hot and determined like Alec? The truth was, I had no idea what I was. Who I was.

Stupid thoughts, I know.

“How was your doctor’s appointment, Verity?” Cate asked.

Just like her wings, Cate was slick, unruffled. Her long dirty blonde hair was straight and tucked neatly behind her ears. Nothing bothered her. Or at least, nothing seemed to. Her crisp gray eyes were truly windows into her soul- that is, if she happened to open the shutters. Before you got to know her, she was about as unyielding as a cement wall. She was a one-way road: everything went in, nothing came out. This persona, the one she carefully sculpted all her life, was really a protective armor. The real Cate was sensitive and compassionate. She was elegant, and poised. She always knew what to say (a superpower I wish I had myself).

Of course, Cate had good reason to protect herself. Her life at home was tough. I knew that much. She didn’t talk about it, but I knew that waving sensitive feelings around in her house was the equivalent of showing off a t-bone steak in a pit of lions.

“It was quick and painless,” I replied vaguely. Crappy friend alert: they had no idea I saw a therapist. Or nineteen others, for that matter.

Cate smiled. “Good.”

The door chimed again and my gaze snagged on the newcomer. It was a boy about my age, but where I was average height and curvy, he was tall and lithe. His shoulders were covered in a black leather jacket, unzipped and showing a loose white t-shirt. He had messy dark hair that looked like he hadn't recovered from this morning's bout of bed head. But in a good way. Like, a wavy and tousled and curling around his ears way.

Was that even possible?

He casually strolled over to the counter to make his order. I blinked, then flushed. I was staring at him. Embarrassingly enough, I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. It wasn't until his back was completely to me that I realized why.

His back was bare. There was absolutely nothing. He looked completely normal.

He had no wings.