Firelight by Sophie Jordan Page A

dramatic. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
    Unable to speak, I shake my head, crack open my chemistry book, and stare blindly at the page, telling myself that I’m glad he ignored me. I needed this to remember the vow I made to myself to stay away from him. I’m even glad I ripped up his note. Glad he saw the shredded little pile.

    Tonight. Now more than ever, I have to fly, have to give it another try. I have only myself to rely on, and I’m enough. I have to believe that. It’s always been true before.

    Later that night, I slide out from beneath the covers and locate my shoes at the foot of the bed. I was careful to mark where I left them, not wanting to fumble in the dark and risk waking Tamra.
    This late, the room is dark. No outside light slips through the blinds. Tamra’s side of the room is tomb black. Hopefully, the night outside is just as dark. With clouds. Clouds and dark night. The perfect cover.
    Hooking my fingers inside the heels of my shoes, I ease out of the bedroom, wincing when the floor creaks beneath my weight. I hold my breath and speed tiptoe through the house, not even exhaling until I’m safely outside.
    Mrs. Hennessey’s lights are off—luckily her yappy little dog doesn’t break into barking at the gate’s soft clink.
    At the street, I squat on the curb and slip my socks and shoes on, looking to the sky as I tie my laces. Full moon and cloudless. Unfortunate, that. But not enough for me to change my mind.
    On my feet, I set out, walking toward the golf course I’d visited before, telling myself that tonight would be different. I’d manifest easily, lift high, swim on the air like I used to do…like I’m born to do. I cover the five miles in good time. The course lifts up like a shock of green undulating sea ahead, an abrupt change from the desert and rock everywhere else.
    With a stealthy look around, I cross into a world of pulsing, verdant green. The closest thing I’ve seen to vegetation since I left the mountains. Except for the heat, the dryness that makes my hair crackle and skin itch, I could almost pretend that the desert has vanished.
    Slipping off my shoes and socks, I step onto the green, enjoying the cushion of grass under my feet.
    I pass a sand trap. A strategically placed set of boulders. Ahead, a pond shines like glass. My pace lengthens as I stride to a small copse of trees. I shed my clothes, and dry heat hugs my body.
    Sighing, I lift my face and inhale the thin, baked air, bringing it inside me, letting it fill my lungs. I stretch out my arms, willing the manifest….
    I close my eyes, focus and concentrate like never before.
    No! It’s even harder than the other times.
    The bones of my face pull, hone to sharply cut lines and angles. My breathing quickens as my nose shifts, ridges pushing forth with a slight crackling of bone and cartilage. It hurts a little. Like my body doesn’t like it. Fights it. Doesn’t want it to happen.
    Gradually, my limbs loosen, lengthen. My human skin melts away, replaced with thicker skin—
    tight, contracting draki flesh.
    A hot tear slides down my cheek. A moan spits from my lips, pushing me over the edge.
    My flesh blurs, glimmers gold and red. Deep, purring vibrations well up from my chest.
    At last, my wings push free, unfurl, the gossamer width of each one snapping open behind me, circulating the loose air. I push off immediately and want to weep at the struggle of it, the impossibility of it all.
    My muscles burn, scream in protest. Behind me, my wings work, snapping savagely to lift me up on air. Air with no density. No substance. My wings fight for purchase, for something to grasp, struggling to climb higher. So. Hard. So hard!
    I lift up, breathless from the effort. Frustrated tears prick my eyes, blur my vision. Moisture I don’t need to lose.

    Green swells far beneath me. I blink, scan wide, focus on the red-tiled rooftops stretching into the horizon. In the far distance, the lights of cars on a highway look