If These Wings Could Fly - Kyrie McCauley Page 0,29

my lap. I probably could have left some books at home.

“I mean, you’ve never needed a tutor before.” Mom smiles at me. “Sounds made-up.”

I laugh. “Here, I have proof.”

I dive into my bag and pull out my art portfolio. I produce for her inspection my latest project: a still life re-creation of a photograph. The picture is paper-clipped to the corner—a bowl of pears that should have been simple, or so I thought. Turns out pears are an impossible shape to draw. In the photo, they look full and juicy and appetizing. Mine look like they are from an online quiz called “What Kind of Fruit Is Your Body Shape?”

Mom is quiet for so long that I look up and realize her struggle. She isn’t sure how to agree that I probably do need help with art class without offending me.

“It’s okay, Mom. I know they suck. That’s why I’m here.”

She laughs. An honest-to-goodness laugh, and it’s like gold.

Juniper snickers from the backseat, delighted. I catch a glimpse of Campbell in the rearview mirror, and even she’s smiling.

“They don’t suck. They . . . could use some direction, that’s all.” She’s teasing me, but she ends with a smile, and I already feel the beat of the inside joke. The word pear gets tucked inside my stone heart for safekeeping.

I pause with my hand on the door handle, then turn back and kiss her cheek goodbye. Hi, Mom. I see you in there. I get out of the car, and wave to Campbell and Juniper as they pull away. There are a bunch of autumn decorations on the porch. Pumpkins and signs, and even a full-size, grinning scarecrow. He’s probably useful to have around this year.

Liam’s sister, Fiona, answers the door. She is a sophomore, so probably fifteen, but she’s tall like her brother. She’s dressed in a leotard and slim-fitting athletic pants, and I remember that she danced in the talent show last year.

“Leighton! Hi, come on in.” She is smiling wide as she ushers me in. “I’m so glad you are here. Liam is bored, and when he’s bored, he torments me.”

“That sounds about right,” I say. “Maybe he needs more hobbies.”

“Oh, he has them. He says they aren’t as fun.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you aren’t his only target; he teases me, too.” Fiona laughs and rolls her eyes dramatically, and I like her so much already. It would have been easy for her to make me feel out of place in her home, but she’s warm and friendly, and it’s impossible to feel weird.

“LIAM, YOUR DATE IS HERE!” Fiona bellows up the stairs, and I startle beside her.

Well, now I feel awkward.

“Oh, we aren’t—I’m not—” I sigh. I don’t know what this is, but it isn’t a date. “I’m just here for art.”

“Well, that’s fine, too,” says a voice behind us, and I turn to see Mrs. McNamara.

I’m surprised to realize I’m now at eye level with her. Liam is a lot taller than his mom, but otherwise he takes after her. Warm, kind eyes that look exactly like his. Her eyebrows are impeccably arched, but when she narrows her eyes at Fiona, there’s the same expression on her face that I’ve seen on Liam’s.

“Fiona Marie, must you yell?” she asks.

“He always has his headphones on,” Fiona says.

“Then go upstairs and let him know his friend is here.”

Fiona dashes up the stairs, and Mrs. McNamara smiles at me. “Leighton Barnes. It’s been years. Last time I saw you—” She holds her hand up to our shoulder height. “Anyway. You’ve grown up. I can’t believe you kids are graduating soon.” She leads me to the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea? Maybe some hot cocoa?”

“Whatever is easiest,” I say.

“It’s all easy, dear.”

“Tea sounds good.”

“Mmm, I agree. I think I’ll join you.” She gestures toward a stool that is pushed up to the kitchen island, and I climb up. There’s a yard sign leaning against the island, and I accidentally knock it over. It’s one of those equality signs, with block letters in bright colors on a black background. We believe in science. No human is illegal. Women’s rights are human rights. Love is love. Black Lives Matter.

I hop down and prop the sign back up. “I like your sign,” I say.

“Thank you, Leighton. It’s hard to be a blue dot in a red county, isn’t it?”

“Definitely leads to some tense conversations.” I think of Liam proudly declaring himself a feminist in lit class, and smile. “I can’t wait