Wings Free with Bonus Material Read Online Free Page B

door before slipping silently out to enjoy the crisp quiet of the early morning. Late September had chased away the bright, clear mornings and brought instead the fog that rolled off the ocean and lingered over the town until early afternoon.
    She walked along a short path that snaked through her backyard. Despite the small size of the house, the lot was fairly large and Laurel’s parents had talked of possibly adding on someday. The yard had several trees that shaded the house, and Laurel had spent almost a month helpingher mom plant bunches of flowers and vines all along the exterior walls.
    Their house was one in a line of homes, so they had neighbors on both sides, but like many of the homes in Crescent City, their backyard ran into undeveloped forest. Laurel usually took her walks into the twisting paths of the small glen and to the creek that ran through the middle of it, parallel to the line of houses.
    Today she wandered down to the creek and sat on the bank. She pushed her feet into the chilly water that was clear and cool in the mornings before the water bugs and gnats ventured out and dotted the surface, looking for bits of food.
    Laurel set her guitar on her knee and began to strum a few random chords, picking out a bit of a melody after a while. It was nice to fill the space around her with music. She’d started playing three years ago when she’d found her mom’s old guitar in the attic. It was in dire need of new strings and some major tuning, but Laurel convinced her mom to get it fixed up. Her mom had told her the guitar was hers now, but Laurel still liked to think of it as her mom’s; it made it seem more romantic. Like an old heirloom.
    An insect landed on her shoulder and began to walk down her back. As Laurel swatted at it her fingers touched something. She stretched her arm back a little farther and felt for it again. It was still there; a round bump, just barely big enough to feel under her skin. She craned her neck but couldn’t see anything past her shoulder. She touched it again, trying tofigure out what it was. Finally she stood, frustrated, and headed back to the house in search of a mirror.
    After locking the bathroom door, Laurel sat on the vanity, twisting until she could see her back in the mirror. She pulled the top of her sundress down and searched for the bump. She finally spotted it right between her shoulder blades—a tiny, raised circle that blended in with the skin around it. It was barely noticeable but definitely there. She poked it tentatively—it didn’t hurt, but poking it did provoke a sort of tingling feeling. It looked like a zit. That’s comforting , Laurel thought wryly. In a completely non-comforting way.
    Laurel heard her mother’s soft steps creak down the hall and poked her head out the bathroom door. “Mom?”
    “Kitchen,” her mom called with a yawn.
    Laurel followed her voice. “I have a bump on my back. Could you look at it?” she asked, turning around.
    Her mom pushed on it softly a few times. “Just a zit,” she concluded.
    “That’s what I figured,” Laurel said, letting the top of her dress snap back up.
    “You don’t really get zits.” She hesitated. “Have you started…you know?”
    Laurel shook her head quickly. “Just a fluke.” Her voice was flat and her smile was sharp. “All part of puberty, like you always say.” She turned and fled before her mother could ask any more questions.
    Back in her room she sat on her bed, fingering the small bump. It made her feel strangely normal to get her first zit; likea rite of passage. She hadn’t experienced puberty quite like the textbooks described it. She never got zits and, although her chest and hips had developed the way they were supposed to—a little early, actually—at fifteen and a half she still hadn’t started her period.
    Her mom always shrugged it off, saying that because they had no idea what her biological mother’s medical history was, they couldn’t be certain it