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Wings Chapter Two
Blaire gasped and opened her eyes. She had that dream .She had been having it for weeks, but this was the first time there was a boy, and that big tree. Usually she was just wandering around in the bitter cold, not knowing where she was going or what she was looking for.
Blaire kicked off her covers, and looked at the clock. Six Thirty A.M; Forty five minutes until she needed to leave for school. She hurried into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a thick hoodie. She went down the hall of the apartment she lived in with her mother and little sister, Isis. Her mother was rushing around, getting ready for work, and Isis was sitting at the little kitchen table, eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Blaire poured herself some Chex and sat down. She added milk and started to eat.
“Morning honey.” Blaire’s mother said.
“Morning mom.” Blaire replied absently. Her mind was still in her dream.
“You okay?” her mom asked.
“Yeah, sure. Had a funny dream last night, that’s all.” Blaire said.
“Not that weird Central Park dream again?” her mother asked tiredly. Blaire had told her mother about the dream shortly after she had it for the first time. Her mother told her to calm down, that it was only a dream, and it was nothing to worry about.
“Nah. A different one. It was a little scary.” Blaire said, half truthfully.
“Oh. Well, okay. See you later girls! Blaire, don’t forget to take your sister to her school on the way to yours!” Blaire’s mother was halfway out the door, with a piece of toast in one hand and her bus pass in the other. “And don’t forget to look both ways and hold ha—”
“Mom. Go to work.” Blaire said. “We know.”
“Okay. Bye honey!” Blaire’s mother swept out of the apartment. It was blissfully quiet.
“Isis, are you ready?” Blaire said to her sister.
“Sort of. I need to brush my teeth and stuff.”
“Well hurry up!” Blaire said, “We only have,” she checked the clock “twenty minutes until we need to leave”
“Okay, okay!” Isis said grumpily. She took her last bite of Cap’n Crunch, tossed her bowl in the sink, and trudged off to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Blaire quickly finished her cereal. She got up, stuck her bowl in the sink with Isis’s and went to her room to get ready.
Fifteen minutes later, Blaire emerged from her room, completely ready. “Isis!” she called. “You ready?”
“Sort of.” Isis yelled back. “Can you help me?”
Blaire gave an irritated sigh and ran to the bathroom. Her backpack and Isis’s were on the kitchen table. All she had to do was get her out the door. “What?” Blaire said.
“Help?” Isis said, trying to look innocent. Blaire gaped.
Isis had somehow managed to get toothpaste in her hair, on her clothes, in the hairbrush, and pretty much everywhere else except in her mouth.
“What.” Blaire said. “Did. You. Do?”
“Well, I kinda pounded the toothpaste with my fist…and it went all over.” Isis said innocently.
“Well,” Blaire replied, “You can march yourself to the kitchen sink and wash it out. I’ll get you new clothes. We have five minutes until school. Move.” She shoved Isis out of the bathroom. Isis ran for the kitchen and Blaire went to Isis’s closet and picked out jeans and a sweatshirt. Her t-shirt would be okay, since it was under her sweatshirt. Blaire then rushed to the kitchen.
“Is it out?” Isis asked breathlessly, pulling her head from under the faucet.
“Yeah, it’s out. Isis, put these on. Fast. Your backpack’s packed on the table.” Blaire threw the clothes at her. “Brush your hair at school. I’ll stick the spare brush in your backpack.”
A few minutes later, Blaire and Isis were out in the bitter New York City cold, breathing in the city fumes. They weaved around other pedestrians quickly. They were late.
“Hurry up Isis! I have to get to school yet!” Blaire gasped, jogging.
“Alright! Alright!” Isis replied, speeding up.
Isis reached her school in a few minutes time at their speed. After hugging her sister, she ran inside. Blaire didn’t stop to watch and jogged towards her high school. She went past some small shops, and some apartment buildings, through some intersections, and finally ended up at Daniel C. Freidman High School. She rushed up the steps and made it into class just as the bell rang. She sighed. Made it. She thought. Now I just have to make it through the day.
Blaire walked out of school, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk. All through her classes, Blaire couldn’t get last night’s dream out of her mind. The kid’s words kept running through her mind. “Big things are going to happen…things you know nothing about.”
Blaire turned near a sub shop and headed towards Central Park. It wasn’t far from her high school, and Isis had dance class and was brought home by friends afterwards. She wanted to see if that tree really existed, no matter how crazy it sounded. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, it’ll help me get this out of my head.
She was soon in Central Park, looking for that one giant oak. She remembered it was split into four big branches, with a hollow in the middle, and it was easy to climb. She looked for around ten minutes when she thought to herself, Why am I looking for some stupid dream-tree? It probably doesn’t exist.
Irritably, Blaire turned around to head out of Central Park. She looked around, and saw almost nobody in the park, except for the pony carriages some distance away, wanting to take somebody around the park for a few dollars.
It was as she was looking at the carriages that she saw it. The wide, rough trunk, the extensive branches, the four limbs stretching from the trunk. She walked towards it, amazed.
Crunching over the frozen grass, Blaire came to the tree’s huge trunk. She ran her fingers over the rough bark. She reached up for the first branch, and slowly climbed into the hollow at the base of the split. She was amazed at how familiar it felt.
“I thought you would end up here.”
Blaire screeched and fell out of the hollow. Someone’s strong hands caught her.
“You okay?” someone asked. This someone had a European accent.
Automatically, without thinking, Blaire replied, “No touching.”
Struck by the familiarity of this experience, she whirled around, and looked straight into the dark gray eyes of a certain cocky, brown haired boy.