“Whatever,” said the Gasman, breathing deeply in the cool night air. Wait till Max found out how cool they had been.
31
A dark-haired woman with worried eyes opened the door wider. “What is it, Ella? What’s wrong?”
“Mom, this is—” Ella stopped, her hand in midair.
“Max,” I said. Why didn’t I give a fake name? Because I didn’t think of it.
“My friend Max. She’s the girl I told you about, the one who saved me from José and Dwayne and them. She saved me. But they shot her.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Ella’s mother. “Please, Max, come in. Do you want me to call your parents?”
I stood on the doormat, reluctant to drip rain, and blood, on their floor. “Um . . .”
Then Ella’s mom saw my bloodstained sweatshirt, and her eyes flew to my face. My cheek was scratched, one eye was black. The whole situation changed in that instant.
“Let me get my stuff,” she said gently. “Take off your shoes and go with Ella to the bathroom.”
I sloshed down the hallway in my wet socks. “What stuff is she going to get?” I whispered.
Ella turned on a light and ushered me into an old-fashioned bathroom with green tiles and a rust ring around the sink drain.
“Her doctor stuff,” Ella whispered back. “She’s a vet, so she’s good with injuries. Even on people.”
A vet! I started laughing weakly and had to sit down on the edge of the tub. A vet. Wait till they found out how appropriate that was.
Ella’s mom came in with a plastic box of first aid supplies. “Ella, maybe you could get Max some juice or something. She probably needs some sugar and fluids.”
“Juice would be great,” I said with feeling.
Ella nodded and hurried down the hall.
“I take it you don’t want me to call your parents?” Ella’s mom said softly, starting to cut away the neck of my sweatshirt.
“Uh, no.” Hello, lab? May I speak to a test tube, please?
“Or the police, either, right?”
“No need to get them involved,” I agreed, then I sucked in my breath as her gentle fingers found the wound on my upper arm. “I think the bullet only grazed me.”
“Yes, I think you’re right, but it’s pretty deep and messy. And over here—” I sat frozen, staring straight ahead, as all my senses tensed. I was taking a huge risk here. You have no idea how huge. I had never, ever let someone outside the flock see my wings. But this was one situation I couldn’t fix by myself. I hated that.
Ella’s mom frowned slightly. She finished cutting the neck and then stretched the shirt off, leaving me in my tank top. I sat there like a statue, feeling a chilled coldness inside that had nothing to do with being wet.
“Here.” Ella handed me a big glass of orange juice. I practically choked, trying to drink it down as fast as possible. Oh, my God, it was so good.
“What’s—” Ella’s mom said, her fingers skimming along the edge of my wing where it folded and tucked into an indentation next to my spine, between my shoulder and my waist. She leaned over to see better.
I stared at my wet socks, my toes clenching.
She turned me slightly, and I let her.
“Max.” Her dark brown eyes were concerned, tired, and upset, all at once. “Max, what is this?” she asked gently, touching the feathers that were just barely visible.
I swallowed hard, knowing that I had just lost any hope for a normal connection with Ella and her mom. In my mind I reviewed the house layout: a right down the hall, a quick left, and through the front door. It would take only a few seconds. I could do it. I could probably grab my boots on the way out too.
“It’s a . . . wing,” I whispered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ella frown. “My, um, wing.” Silence. “It got hurt too.”