Free The Anatomy of Wings by Karen Foxlee Page B

from inside.
    “You have to wait outside over there,” said Beth, pointing to the gutter on the opposite side of the road.
    “Why?” I said.
    “If you go home you'll tell Mum, won't you?”
    “No,” I said, but I mustn't have sounded certain enough.
    Miranda rolled her eyes.
    “Why did you have to come?” she said slowly.
    “Up your arse with a can of sars,” I said slowly back.
    They left their bikes and went up onto the patio and knocked. I sat on the gutter on the other side of the road and watched them. A boy came to the door and took them inside.
    I waited. I left my bike on the footpath and walked up and down the gutter of Amiens Road. I looked for interesting things. I found a box of Redheads matches with three left inside, which was interesting becausethree was my lucky number. If Dad ever asked me to pick a horse for him when he wasn't sure who was going to win I always said three.
    Inside the house a group of girls banged their hips into Beth as she passed. They were big girls, grade 10 girls, with black bands on their arms and blue ink tattoos. She tried to ignore them. They stared at her from where they sat in a circle on the living room floor. She drank the beer Marco gave her. A John Cougar tape played in the tape recorder in the kitchen. Miranda and Beth lit their cigarettes and they were glad they had practiced.
    Outside I found three burning beans, which was a good find. If you rubbed burning beans very hard on your clothes they heated up and you could put them on someone else's skin to burn them and they were a good weapon to have in case you ever met a stranger who was trying to kidnap you.
    “What would you do if a stranger pulled up in a car and asked you to get inside and said your mother wants me to bring you home?” Mum often asked us.
    “No thank you,” we said.
    “And?”
    “Keep walking,” I said.
    And burn him with a burning bean.
    “And what if he said he had lost his kitten and could you help him find it?”
    “No way, Jose,” I said.
    “Good girl,” said Mum.
    “What if he really had lost his kitten?” said Danielle.
    “Don't start,” said Mum.
    Inside the house the beer wasn't cold. Beth forced each mouthful down. It tasted warm and rich, like drinking earth. Marco stood beside her. His little mustache twitched every time he smiled at her. She flicked her cigarette on top of a full ashtray and some of the ash fell on the floor.
    “Sorry,” she said.
    “Don't be stupid,” said Marco.
    She put her fingers up to her lips, which were tingling.
    Her cheeks flushed.
    She felt like part of her was vanishing.
    Inside the house long shafts of afternoon light fell through half-open venetian blinds. She passed her hand through them, through the slow-turning dust motes. She watched her cigarette smoke scroll its way to the ceiling. The tough girls watched her from the floor.
    Marco gave her another beer.
    “Yum,” she said, and he laughed.
    He had skin like marble. It gleamed in the kitchen. His black hair fell across his eyes. He pushed it back with his hand. He stood in the slab of sunlight and was illuminated.
    Miranda sat on top of the kitchen bench. Tony was telling her again about his car: the upholstery, the wheels, the wings, the side detailing. How fast it would go. From zero to one hundred. The tape player.
    “No, I'm not kidding,” he said. “A tape player.”
    Beth listened to his voice. She watched Miranda. Miranda kept pushing her long dark hair over her shoulders and looking up at Tony. She was telling him about the horse her stepmother's boyfriend had promised her. She was excited. She described in detail what colors the horse trailer would be. But Tony didn't look that interested. He told her to come outside and look at the car.
    “You better come with me,” Marco said, motioning with his eyes to the girls in the circle on the living room floor, “or they'll beat the shit out of you.”
    Outside I found a feather that could have been from the wing of a