GROWING PAINS BY EMILY EVANS
My mom was a late bloomer . By the time feathers started splitting her skin , she was already married and had two kids – my older brother Jared , and me . When my dad found bloodied wisps of down on the back of her neck , the whole house shrieked with her sobs .
I was twelve now , and she was long gone . It didn ’ t hurt too much if I didn ’ t think about it . I had a picture of her in a sunny meadow , posing with me and Jared in her arms . I kept the picture on my bookshelf so I could be near her while I slept .
My dad took care of us the best he could . The three of us got along well , though it must have been hard for him , to have a beautiful wife who grew wings and flew away . He pretended she just got sick and died , never voicing the truth . Jared and I knew better than to hope we could avoid the curse . The day flight feathers pierced through the skin of his forearm , neither of us cried . Our dad did , though . Profusely . I sat with Jared in the sunshine of the backyard , beside the empty birdhouse , flipping through a field guide of every bird known to man . Jared ’ s feathers were gray and white , having sturdy quills and stiff barbs . The longest was over a foot long . From the looks of it , he ’ d be a long-distance flier .
While we played and read books together , Dad was making frantic phone calls . “ It ’ s starting ,” he begged . “ Please , tell me how to stop this .” The person on the other end must have said something he didn ’ t like , because he slammed the phone into its cradle and swore loudly . We didn ’ t see him the rest of the day .
Our grandma came down from Wisconsin in a busted-up station wagon . She was a kind old lady with horn-rimmed glasses . She gave me and Jared new sweaters , even though Jared couldn ' t wear long sleeves anymore .
Grandma Jolene had seen her husband and all four children throuh the transformation . We were to respect her authority , even if we didn ' t understand the things she did . Like how she put ground-up eggshells in Jared ’ s cereal bowl and made him eat every bite , or how she told him to do jumping jacks for thirty minutes every day . I tried to join him , but I inevitably slowed down and flopped down on the grass , heaving .
He made jokes about it , but there were dark circles under his eyes . I started crawling into his bed at night , where we held each other under the loving gaze of the picture I placed on his nightstand . Each morning , we wondered the same question : Would this day be his last ? The not knowing could drive someone mad .
Things came to a head when we woke to find Jared ’ s toes had fused together with pink webbing . There were little claws at the ends , and the skin was peeling off to reveal tiny scales . This was it , then . He was going to become a seabird .
By now , the plumage had spread all across his arms and back . He had to sleep on his belly , uncovered by blankets , because the fabric prickled against his feathers . When quills started poking from his neck , Grandma Jolene moved her cot beside his bed and made me return to my own room . She told me I wouldn ’ t want to see what happened next . Using words from my dad , I screamed that Jared was my brother , that nothing could take me from him . She washed out my mouth with soap .
As September wore on , my brother became bedridden . I stopped going to school , and no one could make me get on the school bus . Eventually , my dad quit cajoling me to go . He made
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