Lupe took a teensy step forward so she was standing on the edge of the cliff. Unlike her classmates, Lupe loved heights. Lupe loved the way they made her feel alive, like she was a bird freed from its cage. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of jumping off; flying into oblivion.
“Lupe! Get away from the edge!” Mrs. Finklethorp shouted. Lupe didn’t see the danger in being so close, but stepped away anyway. Mrs. Finklethorp continued lecturing to the class. Lupe continued dreaming about flying. One of the boys, Roger, sidled up to Lupe.
“Why do you stand so close to the edge? Isn’t it scary?” he asked.
Lupe laughed. “No.”
“Really?”
“Not scary.”
“Even after the kid died a few years ago?” Roger asked.
Lupe shook her head.
“Wow,” Roger breathed.
“Lupe, Roger, stop talking. Unless you care to answer the question?” Mrs. Finklethorp asked. Lupe and Roger shook their heads. “I thought not.”
Roger wandered away from Lupe with an awed expression on his face. Lupe watched as he spoke animatedly to his group of friends about Lupe. They stared openly at her. Lupe’s friend, Kate, tapped Lupe on the shoulder.
“What was that all about? Do they think you can fly or something?”
Lupe shifted her cloak to cover her feathered wings better. “It depends on who’s asking.”
Kate snorted. “I am!” she said.
“Then, yes. I can fly. But you can’t tell anyone. Understand?” Kate nodded.
Lupe heard a gasp from behind her. Roger was standing there. “Really?” he asked.
Lupe thought for a moment. “Yes.” And the trio smiled secret smiles to each other while Mrs. Finklethorp kept lecturing about the composition of rocks. Lupe stifled a laugh; humans always think they know everything.
“Don't tell.”
