“Slow down!” I yelp. “Haha!” Yara says, soaring ahead. I’m not sure she even heard. I flutter along behind her, my wings still small. Yara is my twin sister, but she got her wings first. Even though we’re twins, we look nothing alike. While my sister has blonde hair, almost white, really, I have black hair. She has long hair, and I’ve cut mine as short as possible. She’s the shortest 12 year old I’ve ever met, but I’m taller than our mother already. Differences aside, we’re good friends. We’ve always stayed with each other, and that was just how it was. That is, before Yara got wings. Her feather, perfect, normal, white wings. She’s had them for 3 months. I got mine only 1 month ago. For a little while, we thought I might never get wings. But I did, only too late for this stupid family trip. I can fly, but I’m still wobbly and slow. “Woohoo!” My sister calls, doing flips in the air. I look back at my tiny black wings, the feathers still soft. They are sore from the flight. They’ll grow, I think. But I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything involving my wings. Sure, I’d always been a bit strange, but this was just weird. When my wings came in, Everyone was confused. They were supposed to be white, and supposed to be bigger. Sure, wings usually grow a bit, but mine are usually small. I wonder if I’ll always be like this. Straggling behind my family on every trip like this. Yara swoops down onto the sand island. I slowly set myself down. Mother and Father landed before we did, so they're waiting. They hustled us into the cave just before the sky begins to turn pink. We’ve been flying all day. My kind isn’t supposed to be outside at night. Who hasn’t seen the victims? Little children who don’t know any better. They wander out in the night, and then you hear them scream. All you can do is cover your head with a pillow and hope they go quickly. Hope the Magyari are feeling kind. All I can think is I wonder what they look like… before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
For CJP
