The Short Life of Sparrows (10 page)

“They’re gross,” I spit. “I’d like to say I’m surprised. But I’m really not.”

She attempts half a smile, but her eyes are glossy with tears she doesn’t let fall. “Your turn.”

Isaiah clears his throat, snapping twigs in his hand as he looks over at me. “Maybe we should do something else.”

“I was in mine,” I say, taking the bottle. I swallow the last of it, thinking it will make me forget what I’m about to say. “And Isaiah was in it. He took my hand, and then we just—left. We ran away. I already told Isaiah about it. And now you know too.”

Neither of them responds. The whooshing of the river irritates me, and I’m frustrated that I’ve said it
. Now I want to take back the entire night
. But I’ve gone so far, that there’s nothing left to do but fill the silence they refuse to end. “You know,” I continue, “I like you fine, Isaiah. I think we might even be friends by now. But I’d never leave this place. And it’s really not about you, necessarily. Being told by fate that I’d abandon my friends and family for
anyone
, well, it’s not likely to make me think lustful thoughts.”

Daphne busies herself with packing the last of the desserts back into the basket.
The way she stuffs everything without trying to make it fit hints at how upset she is with me.      

“It’s not my fault,” I say, taking her hand. “You know I’d never choose to leave you. And no offense Isaiah. You’re attractive and all, but you’re much more Daphne’s type than mine. I’d never choose it. Especially since you two are like magnets every time you pass each other.”

She rips her hand free, hooking the basket to her elbow. “Stop talking Calli. Just stop. I know you wouldn’t. But it’s an Awakening. It chooses you. I’m tired. And the wine isn’t sitting very well anymore. I’m afraid if you say one more regretful thing—that I’ll say something I’ll regret too.” As she stumbles away through the field, I stand to roll up the blanket.

“Sorry,” I reply, as he wordlessly gathers the other end. We shake the blanket to get rid of the dirt and crumbs. After we’ve folded it, he keeps a healthy distance from me as we walk back.

“So,” he says, kicking the toes of his boot at the ground. “How often are Awakenings wrong?”

“Never.”

“But I don’t—”

“I know,” I say, cutting him off. “You like her. And she obviously likes you. I don’t want any of it, so let’s both agree that fate got it wrong.”      

“How mad was she?” he asks as we trudge closer to the woodshed.

“Pretty mad,” I sigh. “But Daphne is too sweet to hold grudges. And we’ve never fought for more than a few hours. I’ll find a way to make it up to her tomorrow.”

His smile is small and reserved as he ceremoniously extends his open palm to me. “Just friends? Is it possible for you and me to get along for more than an hour?”

“Just friends,” I reply, shaking his hand. “Non-kissing friends who bury dead things together.”

“Yes, that’s romantic stuff.” He laughs, as he wanders back inside, his hands sunk in his coat.

12

ISAIAH

T
he warped wooden door clatters open before I can find my shirt. I fold my arms together over my bare chest, as if that can conceal any of it. The puffy white lines extend from my chest and back, old puckered scars crisscrossing down my forearms. There are too many to hide without a long shirt. Even after winding the blanket around my shoulders, I can feel the heat in my cheeks. Calli moves to the side for Lil, staring down into the bucket of water she holds. Lil pushes the door closed behind her, her eyes darting away from the obvious. “I’m sorry. I thought we could set your breakfast on the table without waking you. I didn’t mean—”

The dish makes a clinking noise as Lil sets it on the makeshift table at the head of the bed. My gaze stays at the packed dirt floor, my mind racing for an acceptable explanation.
I know there isn’t one
. “Thank you for the food. You didn’t have to bring it down here though. I was just on my way up.”

Calli’s lips are tight, queasy. I can’t read Lil’s face—it seems she’s always pursing her mouth, that the lines above her eyes stay permanently lifted. “Well,” Lil finally exhales, patting at her apron with one hand. “I have a cream up at the house that should soften and lighten them. I’ll just be a minute.” She slips back out the door.

The bucket sloshes as Calli lowers it beside the fire. “I thought our Nightbloods were monstrous. It seems Ordinaries have their own barbaric practices.” Her eyes keep to the crackling flames. I fasten the last of my shirt over the scars.

“They’re really old. Lashings from when I was a boy. Doesn’t do an orphan many favors to be anything but quiet. I’m sure I earned a few of them. Not all, but some.”

I reach for the steaming plate of biscuits and gravy, hoping that if I refocus my attention, she will too. She’s looking at me like she found a little white kitten with a broken leg. It’s not the way any man wants to be looked at, as if I need bundled up and protected from everything. I lean forward over my food. If she’s going to linger, I might as well eat my breakfast. Tearing into the biscuit, I inhale large bites of the buttery bread. Impatience festers within me. Her expression is insufferable. I drop the biscuit into the puddle of gravy.

“I’m not one of your defenseless little sparrows, okay? I’m fine. Really.”

Calli never asks for an invitation to sit beside me. Not that I’m shocked the thought escapes her. The girl is always more given to reaction than reflection. She studies my face with a pity that makes me feel even more disgusted with myself. I don’t try to be formal with her anymore. We’ve moved far beyond it. I keep a seat on the bed next to her as I fumble with the fork on my plate. She locks her hands together, hesitating twice as she starts to speak. “I’m so sorry, Isaiah.”

“Can we leave it alone? It’s not that I’m afraid to admit my past. I just don’t like recalling any adult who gets their confidence from knocking children around. They don’t deserve to even be remembered.”

“You’re right,” she clucks, pulling a loose thread from her sleeve. “Donkey slop deserves more tribute. And snotty handkerchiefs. And crusty blisters. Even the smell of rotting meat is more appealing than remembering monsters.”

The back of my hand covers my mouth to keep me from spitting out my food.  I gulp it down, feeling the need to get the sourness off of my tongue as I laugh. “You’ve got such an aggressive way with words.”

We’re both laughing loudly when the ground begins to shake. The water in the bucket ripples violently with the rumbling. She grips the mattress, and I wrap my hand to the headboard to keep from being thrown from the constant jostling. I jerk as dirt falls from the rattling boards in the thin walls. The chair topples over, and the dish crashes into large jagged shards. Blowing with fury, the fire sways outward from the logs, as if it’s being pulled or beckoned by a gust of wind.

It ceases as quickly as it started. The bed sinks, the fire calms, and the walls quiet. A gruff knock hits the door repeatedly. Calli scrambles up from the mattress, moving in a desperate turn before she decides to peer through the cloth I rigged to cover the windowpane. “Oh.” She faces me, and I see the dread and worry binding her.

“What is it?” I whisper, straightening my shirt into my belt as I stand.

She clenches her teeth together, her eyes sealing closed for a moment. “You need to let me handle this. You shouldn’t say anything. And we need to hope Lil doesn’t take her time getting back here.”

With that, she pushes roughly at the door latch, swinging the door wide open. “Odella.”

I stay near the back of the room, but even still I see there are many of them with their fingers spread toward the door as if they have weapons. Odella budges past Calli, a silky pink nightgown choking the top of her neck and a black wrap coiled around her head. The Seer shakes a hooked finger at me, and she chucks her cane at the floor. She leans her weight to one side as she wobbles into the middle of the room. “You.”

Calli gently takes Odella’s hand as if she’s found a lost child. “Odella, what has you so upset?”

Odella’s tiny eyes fold, slits that widen and contract as she watches me. “He was missing when I woke up. He would never run away. He likes his feather bed. And the dumplings I feed him. You barbaric, sneaky thing. Taking a lonely old woman’s closest companion. Did you eat him? Did you eat my pig? Oh, my darling Rufus. If you were the one who hurt him, I’ll send you sailing into a pit so deep—”

“Odella,” Calli shouts, holding the woman’s trembling shoulders. “He doesn’t have your pig. Look around. Rufus is not here. And he doesn’t have the means to hide him either. See? There’s nothing but a bed and a chair in here.”

Odella’s eyes dart about, her lower lip wavering. Her long, twig of an arm feels at the air, as if she can sense the unseen with it. “But I did a chant to track Rufus. I swear this is where it led me. I—”

The hairs on my neck curl, because the Seers outside the door haven’t lowered their palms yet. A hissing sound comes from them, and I squint, realizing they’re speaking words in unison. They hold their arms forward, all of them waiting. Dawn has yet to fall across the gray field, but their sunken white faces almost glow in the shadows. If I didn’t know they were real, I’d think hell had opened up and released many devilish spirits to haunt me.

Calli squeezes Odella’s shoulders again. “Please, you need to tell them Rufus is not in here. Maybe one of the Seers was jealous of you having such an amusing pet. You know how some of them get.”

Odella scratches her veiny cheek, nodding. “Yes. Any of them would want that sweet, dancing pig, wouldn’t they? Always out to get the attention. Smiling vultures. And to think they all looked so alarmed when I knocked on their doors earlier.”

“Yes,” Calli pleads, eyeing the doorway. “I’m sure we’ll all figure it out soon enough. But you need to tell them to put their hands down. Isaiah doesn’t have him.”

Odella waddles to the doorframe, motioning at me. “My cane, please.”

I rush to pick it up, and I hold it out for her. “Can I walk you back at least?”

The woman’s mouth hangs in astonishment at my offer, and I’m wishing she’d put her teeth in before she went on a rampage for her missing pig. I’m also wondering how she can dress up a pig and her house, but new teeth haven’t occurred to her. “No, I can make the walk myself. He’s a charming one, isn’t he?” Odella looks at Calli, measuring her expression.

“As charming as any powerless and weak Ordinary could be.”

A hoarse cackle comes from Odella’s sunken jaw, and she pats me on the cheek with her icy hand. “Oh, don’t be wounded by Calli’s lack of enthusiasm. You’ve got big strong arms and nice eyes. If I let you walk me home, the Seers would all be envious beneath the pretense of horror.” She readjusts the slipping black wrap at her head. “Just wait until I find out which of those sniping deviants tucked my Rufus away. I’ll show them one better by training a new pet until they tire of feeding him.”

Calli and I stay in the open door, neither of us retreating as Odella mutters and ushers her group of women away. “I’ll help you get this cleaned up,” Calli says, “before Lil sees the glass everywhere. She’ll be up to Odella’s house, wanting an apology for the dish. This spectacle will never have an ending.”

“They’re harmless old ladies,” she returns, kneeling down to gather the broken pieces into her apron. “Odella was understandably distraught. She loved that oversized pig.”

Pinching up the slivers of glass, I refrain from saying that I disagree. Harmless old ladies can’t shake walls or make chairs topple with their minds. “Thanks for defending me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did.” Her chin lowers so she doesn’t have to say it directly to me. “And I didn’t mean what I said about you being powerless. Or weak. I only said it because you don’t need them gossiping about why I was here without Lil.”

“I know.”

I use the tipped chair to get up from the dirt before I turn it upright. She holds the edges of her apron together as I help her to her feet. A cunning smile plays at her dimples. “You know, Odella is right. You have fairly striking, muscled arms. It’s a good thing Daphne wasn’t here to see so much of you. She’d probably faint from improper thoughts if she saw you without a shirt. Scars or not.”

A laugh tumbles from my mouth as I shake my head. “You’re one of a kind, Calli. Do you have any shame when it comes to the things you say?”

She winks as she leans her head back into the doorway. “Unfortunately not.”

I watch through the hazy window as the petite witch-girl sprints across the field. She is fearless. Why should one walk carefully with an apron full of sharp things, when there is no panic at reassuring Seers who are shaking a patch of earth with their hands?
She never has the stillness to stroll or walk anywhere
, I decide.
No, she storms or strides like a whirlwind that is bound to uproot everything in its path
. Somehow she’s swept me up, and I’m unexpectedly ready for it—ready to really matter to somebody. Even if it's a temperamental Seer who never runs out of opinions.

When she said she had to stick up for me, I know she meant it. Although I still don’t understand the why of it. But if she insists on looking out for common, unremarkable things like sparrows—or the likes of me—there’s no telling her otherwise. The only thing more overwhelming than making nice with Calli is crossing her. I’m no match for her fiery energy or her cantankerous replies. Rather than question it, I find that I’m fixed on making certain that I’m the kind of friend she deserves.

I am about to shut the door when I hear the crunch under my boot. The bloody, swirling cord lies there grubby and caked in dirt. We were just on our knees cleaning up the broken plate, and I know I would’ve seen it if it had been there. It’s fresh. My hands are shaking as I take the grisly bit of flesh to the fire. The flames lap it up, and as little as the scrap is—I still have to take a walk. I can’t sit and watch the pig’s tail sizzle, even if I have no choice but to get rid of it.

With the door slamming behind me, I pick up my bag of tools, ready for work. The message is a distinct one. It says,
if pigs can disappear, so can you
. If only the messenger knew one thing about me. I’ve lived my life always being threatened by someone bigger or stronger—for a good spot to sleep, for a piece of bread, for clothing. There was a time when the mere sight of a stick or the cracking sound of a strap of leather would have me crawling to hide under something. Not anymore. A boy might shrink at a threat, but a man stands his ground and prepares to defend himself.
71 days left
, and if this person wants me to take them seriously, they’ll have to face me first.