The sun had dimmed since we arrived. I sat in a bedroom in the whirlwind of a giant fan. Dorothy laid in a nest of blankets on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She had a permanent frown and didn't try any of the cookies. Or even talk. The first day of the Youth Club was that Monday, so she was dreading waking up at six in the morning all summer. Didn’t help that it was that time of the month and the only other woman was off doing who knows what without warning.

Jamie was nonexistent, lurking downstairs without a trace. I tried writing another paragraph of my story, but it was pointless. My brain was fried from school and a lack of sleep. It wasn't worth it. I threw my pen back in my bookbag and pulled out my Trident's Lane book. Sadly, I didn’t get that relaxing feeling of reading a good story in silence.

At least we had a fresh batch of cookies. Theo gave me a small Ziploc of some with a sticky note of a heart.

The familiar cawing of a crow echoed outside. I had nothing better to do.

“Wanna go outside with me?” I asked Dorothy.

“For a few minutes,” she mumbled.

I put all my stuff in my bookbag and we went back downstairs.

Pasitheo wasn't in the kitchen as I passed by. In fact, everything looked untouched.

I brought my bookbag into the patchy yard, meeting the small picnic table I saw earlier. Crows snuggled in their nest, picking through each other's feathers. Despite a big mixing bowl of water next to them, they didn't clean off the dust. It's strange. They didn't fly away or anything.

“Hey, birdies!” I whispered. “Now, which one of you is Kreili?”

One of the birds looked up at me, while the other kept picking at it. Maybe it was time I stop calling them “it” since they clearly understood me.

She nodded and flew onto Dorothy’s shoulder.

“What do I do, what do I do?” she breathed.

“I think it likes you,” I said.

The bird lifted herself from Dori and flew into the driveway behind us. I got my bookbag and followed.

We met the street, where other houses sat across, as the crow flew. I sped down the sidewalk, where it soared. Good thing the sun warded off any onlookers. The neighborhood seemed to glow. Every house was neat and bright, and a small pond laid a few yards away from us.

In the distance, the shape of a mountain bike grew closer. And closer…

“Move out the way!” they called.

Dorothy stepped out of the way, but I was too late. We collided, metal to skin. The bike pummeled into the pavement and threw me on my back. A pain shot through my entire body. A heavy body laid on top of me. The crow dashed away.

I massaged my forehead and struggled to open my eyes. Tangerine hair, an aviator jacket, and those creepy silver eyes.

“Korey?” I groaned. “What are you doing here?”

He helped me off the ground, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. My knees trembled.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated. “I thought you were staying home.”

“We’re staying at my grandma’s house,” Dori said.

“Is Jamie here, too?”

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“Yeah.”

He pulled a tissue from his pocket and nestled it under my nose. Only then did the smell of blood register. I pulled away from him and went to pick up his bike, but he guided me away from the handle.

“My dad and I are driving around before I go,” he said, hauling it off the ground. He brushed the dirt off the seat and braked it.

I closed my eyes, praying my nosebleed wasn’t a bloodbath.

“What’s this?” he asked.

He ripped the bag from my hand. His cold, murderous eyes locked on every fiber of the feathers. It sent a spike of cold through me.

“So it wasn't a light,” his voice bubbled. “It was this. These feathers. What are you doing with them?”

“Just studying them,” I cowered. “I found them all over the place.”

“You didn't have to pick them up.”

Korey opened the bag and pulled one of them out.

“Have you seen them before?” Dorothy asked, softly. “And please be careful.”

“Why? It’s just some shitty art project,” he scoffed.

“What?”

“Are you a toddler? Can you not understand me?”

Korey took a deep breath. His scarlet face cooled and he squeezed my shoulder.

“It’s probably just a prank, Jack,” he sighed. “Whoever put these around knew someone like you would pick them up. They’re trying to embarrass you. I know people who do stuff like this. They want you to waste your time.”

Heat arose in my throat.

“You’re running after birds, talking to them,” he said. “That’s weird, Jack.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I simmered, swallowing my yell.

“I’m just reminding you. Look. I just don’t want you to be disappointed. We’re not sixth graders. There are so many other things to do besides deluding yourself.”

I sighed, and stepped back. “I’m not. I’m just collecting.”

“Are you crying?”

I felt my eye with my thumb.

“Can we at least have the bag back now?” Dorothy asked.

Concern painted his face. His eyes sorrowed as he reached for something in his pocket.

“You can't,” he trembled. “I’m sorry.”

Dorothy swiped at the bag, but he lunged back. From his pocket, he produced a blue lighter and held it inside, sparking a flame. Then they erupted into a billow of fire, emitting the smell of rain. The red cooled to an angelic sapphire. Liquid plastic dripped onto the pavement.

Like a reflex, he threw the kindling mess into the lake beside us. The blue flames sparked as it extinguished, swallowed by the clear water. Small black fibers, feather stems, and blue dust rose to the surface.

I looked back at him. He just stood there, soullessly staring at the lake.

“I spent months collecting those!” I shouted.

But before I could tackle him, Korey mounted his bike and sped down the sidewalk.

“Korey!” I called. “What did you do!”

I ran after him, but only for a few yards. My nose burned from the bleeding.

Korey stopped and turned back to look at me.

“I had to, okay!” he insisted. “You don't get it!”

I pulled off my bookbag and reached inside. The snow globe; it was still in there. Though I wanted to throw it into the pavement, I shoved it into his chest instead. The red in his skin faded. With his anger boiled away, bliss flowed in his face. His eyes lulled, with all of his energy gone.

Gently, he took my hand and gave it back to me.

“I don’t want it,” I whispered.

“It’s for you,” he said, coldly. “Keep it.”

I could tell he wanted to say something else, but he turned the other way and continued peddling down the sidewalk.

Whatever. Whatever. He was gone now, and I didn’t want to yell out to him anymore.

I ran over to the lake, where Dorothy knelt. The charred, melted plastic bag floated along tufts of black fibers. Even the dust was gone.