Wing Jones

He laughs, the sound buzzing through the night and straight into my heart. “You sound so suspicious. I just wanna make sure the muscles aren’t too tight.”


I’m not sure why this means I have to lie down but I do, tentatively, and the grass is scratchy under my neck.

“Now what?” I ask. He’s kneeling next to me.

“Bend your knees up,” he says. So I’m lying on the grass with my legs bent, feeling like I’m in the position a woman is when she has a baby, when Aaron reaches over and starts pummeling my calves like they’re miniature punching bags until they’re flapping around like an elephant’s ears. He isn’t just pummeling either, he’s slapping my calves one at a time between his palms, and they’re just bouncing back and forth and I can hear the sound of his hands against my skin and I’m so shocked that I don’t say anything for a moment. Then my mouth finally remembers how to form words.

“What the hell?”

He pauses midslap. “Is this hurting?” His forehead wrinkles in concern.

“No,” I say, because it isn’t, “but … um … it is kind of weird.”

“Oh,” he says, quickly standing. “Sorry. I thought you’d like it.” He holds out a hand to pull me up. “The guys on the team, we used to do that to each other all the time. After a race. Helps you loosen up.”

I’m pretty sure it’s had the exact opposite effect. My whole body is tense. My mind is reeling, doing somersaults. Was that just some kind of massage or did it mean something and I’m so inexperienced, so clueless, that I didn’t realize it?

“It was nice,” I say. “I just … didn’t know what you were doing.”

His laugh buzzes again. “Next time I’ll explain better.”

I’m glad there is going to be a next time.

“Aaron?” I ask one Wednesday night when we’re on our cool-down lap. He hasn’t ninja-sneak-attack-massage-pummeled my calves tonight, but he has shown me how to lengthen my stride, how to kick it in at the end of the lap and find that last burst of energy to push myself over the finish line.

He glances up at me, eyes bright and focused. “You all right? Something hurt? We go too hard?”

I shake my head. I’m sore, but it feels good, it feels right.

“Um. Do I look weird when I run?” I feel like I’m flying but I’m starting to wonder what I look like.

Aaron doesn’t answer immediately, which makes me want to take off running as fast as I can and go far, far, far away. Although I’d probably have to blindfold him first so he couldn’t watch me. Because clearly I look like some kind of freak.

“Not weird,” he says, but his tone doesn’t match the words.

“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “It isn’t like anyone is going to see me anyway.”

Aaron stops suddenly and reaches out to grab my arm and slow me down. “Wing! Everyone is going to see you. That’s why we’re doing this, why we’re out running every night. Making you better. Making you the best!”

“You” – I narrow my eyes at him – “aren’t making me anything. I was running just fine before you decided you needed to swoop in and improve me. Fix me.”

“Wing.” My name comes out all in one breath. “I want to help you. Support you. That’s all I’m trying to do.” He cocks his head to one side like a pigeon. “You don’t run weird, but you don’t run exactly normal either. You run … like no one else. You look a little different, that’s for sure. But, Wing, it ain’t anything to be embarrassed about. I love how you run. You look…” I tense, waiting for it. “You look beautiful.”

Then he smiles at me and it’s like I’ve been living in darkness and now there is light. I think I hear a growl behind me, I think I see a dragon wing in the sky, but I ignore them, because right now, all I want is to just be with Aaron.

They’re waiting for me, both of them, under the porch, when he drops me off. I climb up the steps, knowing to step over the second one because it creaks, and suddenly my lioness is in front of me, blocking the front door, teeth bared slightly, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

“Move!” I whisper, but she doesn’t, just keeps staring at me, her tail swishing back and forth like a switch. My dragon is perched on the porch fence, her eyes glowing.

“What?” I say. “You should be glad I’m running with Aaron. I’m getting faster. I know you see me. I know you know. We’re helping each other, all right? He’s hurting too. It’s good for us, both of us.”

My lioness stops moving her tail and she steps aside, pushing her head against me as she does, her growl gone. I rub the back of her ears as I unlock the front door and creep into the kitchen.

My dragon and my lioness stay in my room a long time that night. I fall asleep to the sound of their breathing.





CHAPTER 21


Katherine Webber's books