“We can do that,” Genesis replied.
She pulled out of the lot and headed north. The music thumped lightly in the background as Angela stared out the windshield. She felt a pressure building in her chest.
“I have wings,” she blurted out.
Tires squealed and she lurched forward as Genesis hit the brakes. A truck behind them laid on the horn as it swerved to avoid them.
“Show me,” Genesis said.
Angela stood in a vacant parking lot behind an apartment building and stared down at the pavement. Genesis stood a few feet away, waiting.
“You’re going to think I’m gross,” Angela said.
“I told you I’m open-minded,” Genesis said. “Relax.”
Angela took a deep breath and removed her coat. Unfolding her wings took about as much as effort as uncrossing her arms, which made her nervous. Genesis gasped.
“Oh my God, that’s so cute!” she said.
“Cute?” she said. “I look like a giant bug.”
“Yeah, but I love bugs,” Genesis said. “My very first pet was a tarantula.”
“Really?” Angela asked.
“His name was Whiskers,” Genesis replied. “So can you actually fly?”
“I don’t know,” Angela said. “I haven’t tried.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Genesis asked.
Angela said nothing for a long moment, then she sighed. She looked up at the sky and started moving her wings back and forth, picking up speed with each repetition. Her feet lifted off the ground. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she felt short of breath, but she kept at it, rising up one storey, two, three.
A gust of wind struck Angela in the back and she careened toward the nearest wall. She held out her hands to shield her face. She collided roughly with the apartment building, but she didn’t fall; her hands were stuck to the bricks like glue.