and arms, a heaviness that feels completely foreign and yet completely right all at the same time. Once it reaches my shoulders, it spreads like wildfire down my torso to my hips and legs and feet before finally sweeping up my neck to my jaw and cheeks and the top of my head.
At the same time, there’s a burning in my back, and it scares me a little until I remember—my wings. Of course.
And then it’s done and I’m standing in the middle of Katmere’s laundry room in my gargoyle form—and nothing has ever felt so weird. Really, really weird.
Now that I’ve shifted, I keep holding on to the string deep inside me, but I let go when Hudson tells me to.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as he grins down at me. And, on a side note, can I just say how goddamn unfair it is that I’m short, even as a gargoyle? I mean, I just turned to stone for God’s sake. Can’t I at least grow a few inches along with the transformation?
“You’re never going to stop complaining about that, are you?” Hudson asks.
“Never!” I answer immediately. But I’ve got bigger things than my height to worry about right now. “Why can’t I hold on to the string?” I mean, it’s no big deal—it’s not like it’s burning my stone hands or anything. I’m just curious.
“Because I’m pretty sure the longer you hold the string, the more like a statue you become. But shifting to right here, to this point, lets you move and walk and fly,” he tells me.
“Oh! So pretty important, then, huh?” I joke, right before I decide to see if Hudson is right.
Turns out, he is. I can walk. I can also dance and spin in circles and jump so hard, I shake the whole floor. And it is absolutely amazing!
There’s a part of me that wants to see if I can fly—I’ve already wiggled my wings and they work—but there are a couple of problems with that. One, we’re inside, and if I can’t stop, I really, really don’t want to explain to Uncle Finn why I’ve either knocked myself senseless or crashed through one of the castle walls.
And two, which is really just a sidebar of number one, I have absolutely no idea how to work these things. I’m pretty sure one day in my Physics of Flight class does not qualify me to operate wings, even if they are on my own back.
Suddenly, I remember the pic Macy showed me and I reach up… Sure enough, there are the horns. Sigh. At least they don’t feel that big.
I don’t know how long I walk and stomp and twirl around as a gargoyle, but I know it’s long enough for my laundry to grow cold and wrinkle.
Long enough for Hudson to give up chasing me and slump down in the corner to watch, a non-sarcastic grin on his face.
More than long enough for my muscles to grow tired and shaky. Turns out it takes some serious effort to move this much rock.
I don’t want to turn back yet, though. I don’t know why or how, but there’s something ridiculously freeing being in this form. I thought I’d feel trapped or weighed down or claustrophobic, but instead I just feel…content. Like I’ve found a giant piece of myself that I didn’t even know was missing.
Eventually, though, I know I have to turn back to my human form. It’s late, Macy will probably be back from girls’ night soon, and I don’t want her to think I ditched her just to go hang with someone else. Plus, I have an early day tomorrow—we arranged to meet on the practice field at nine, and I want to get some sleep, maybe give myself a chance not to make a total fool of myself. Plus, Jaxon will be worried if he thinks I’ve disappeared again.
“Jaxy-Waxy keeps a tight rein on you, huh?” Hudson says, sarcasm back in full force now that he’s used up his decency quotient for the year—maybe even the decade.
I don’t answer him until I’ve changed back to human form—a process as easy as reaching for a bright gold string, which must be human Grace, and willing myself into my human body again. My clothes, which had turned to stone, shift back to cloth as well. “Jaxon worries ever since half the school, and his brother, tried to kill me.”
Hudson yawns. “To be fair, I was trying to kill him. You just got in