Page 109 of Let the Light Shine Through

“Not this shit again,” Roz gripes, letting his arms fall as he begins rocking side to side, and Bryce drops his gaze to the ground, not as amused anymore as he climbs on to my four-wheeler.

“You got a helmet?” he asks Kori, shoving past without sparing me a second glance.

“Are you okay?” Bryce asks as soon as Roz and Kori are out of earshot.

“Golden Eagle,” is all I say.

“Is that bad?”

“The worst.”

The Golden Eagle pierces its victim’s heart with its talons, killing them instantly, and that’s the only way to describe what it feels like watching Roz leave with Kori, except for me, there is no relief from an instant demise. No, I’m stuck sitting here, suffering while the puncture continues to openly hemorrhage. And at my own doing no less. My fucking talon. My fucking pain. My fucking bad.

“I thought maybe it was some kind of fucked-up revenge or something, bringing him here with you, but… Look, you’re a bird-watcher, right? You watch everybody the same way you watch birds, Gia. With interest, but only for a short time and from a safe distance away.”

“What’s your point, Bry-bear?”

“My point is you look at him differently.” He points at Roz, but I don’t dare glance in that direction.

“How do I look at him?”

“The same way he looks at you, like you found the one person you want to watch for the rest of your life.”

I flatten my eyes at him, and he puts his hands up, saying, “Take it up with karma, okay? I’m just telling you what I see.”

“Karma, huh?” I say, turning my keychain over in my hands, fingering the feather on it.

“What about this one?” I hold up a gray feather with white at the tip to my mom.

We’ve been hiking around this place after she surprised me with a picnic dinner of chili dogs and cheese fries from a nearby drive-in restaurant. I love Dad’s food, but sometimes it’s nice to eat other things from other places, especially when we don’t have to make it ourselves.

She said the small waterfall we ate by earlier would make a great spot for sunrises, but the sun’s just starting to set now, coating the clouds overhead with purples and oranges just past the tall trees all around us, and I think it’s perfect.

It’ll be dark soon, but that won’t stop Mom. She’d stay out here all night if she could and if I didn’t have school in the morning, she would. She’s so fun. Dad is too, but in his own way. Like when he tosses pizza dough high in the air, then tries to catch it before it can land on his head. Sometimes he lets it just to make us laugh. But Mom, she doesn’t have to try to be fun, she just is. She’s so naturally herself and doesn’t get embarrassed by it.

She inspects the feather closely, a smile lighting up her soft face as she says, “Ah, a Dove. How fitting. Do you know what this stands for?”

I shake my head, my hair falling in front of my eyes. It’s so wavy, even more so with the damp summer air. Last week a kid said I should cut it all off since I look like a boy anyway, but I don’t want to. I like my hair.

“Dove feathers signify harmony.”

My mom looks at me expectantly, but I don’t know what that means, so I just shrug.

“Balance.”

I shrug again and, laughing, she tells me, “It’ll make sense one day. I promise.”

I love when she does that—promises. Everything seems possible when she does, like she’ll always be here to make sure it is.

“They also represent beauty.”

Her eyes meet mine and I smile. Everyone says I look just like my mom, but she’s the prettiest, so I don’t know if I believe it. I don’t care so much about being the prettiest, but my mom is also the happiest person I know, and I think that’s better. Maybe I can be that instead, because I want to be exactly like her.

“And love,” she says, but I pull a face.

The girls at my school talk about the boys nonstop, like that’s the only thing worth caring about. Most of the boys aren’t even nice, but because they’re “cute,” we’re all supposed to go crazy for them. I don’t get it.

“What?” She laughs. “Love is a renewable resource, it’s created and you can never run out of it.”