The Perks of Being a Freak (Editing)

33. This House No Longer Feels Like Home

Emily and Tony walked beneath me, hands clasped loosely together. I covered my mouth, willing my body to stay completely still and to breathe as little as possible.

It was total coincidence that I had landed in that particular tree only a few seconds before Tony and Emmy had walked beneath it. I had not been spying, or snooping. I had been flying, making new friends amongst the stars.

But of course I had noticed them, and wanted to see what they were doing together.

I got my answer when Emily pressed her lips, very gently, against Tony’s.

Oh.

Part of me was grinning. I was glad that Emily had found someone to care about, even if it was Tony. As long as she was happy, I would be happy for her.

But the other part of me was nervous, jealous, angry. Tony didn’t deserve Emily. He couldn’t take her away from me. Could he? Would Emily stop being my best friend now that she had a boyfriend? Didn’t that happen often, in books and movies and stuff?

I tried to reassure myself, I tried to think of all the times Emily has stuck by my side, always loyal.

But Tony was a bad influence, and Emily was still rattled, psychologically and emotionally. I could feel her confusion, her shame, and her hysteria building in the nighttime, when she thought that the dark hid her.

It didn’t.

I wanted to burst down from the trees, like an avenging angel, and beat the shit out of Tony for ever assuming that he was good enough for the suffering girl.

Then Emily laughed, and Tony grinned.

She hadn’t laughed since we had gotten taken. Emily hadn’t laughed in weeks. Tony made her laugh. The same Tony who drove me to tears made my best friend laugh.

He didn’t look like such a bastard when he was grinning. He looked… softer. Less mean, less of an asshole.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to be happy for them.

Silently, I opened my wings and took off into the dark sky, swinging back and forth between the moon and the stars, dipping to taste the clouds, and landing on the roof of my house.

It was my house, I realized. But it was not my home. Did I have a home? Where was it? They say that home is where the heart is, but that’s so vague. How was I supposed to know where my heart was? It was in my chest, but that was simply the corporeal, physical objectification of the heart. Where was the metaphysical portion? Where was my soul?

Was it sad that I had absolutely no idea where my home was?

I was frustrated, and a little bit depressed when I opened my eyes and saw the attic where I lived. I don’t know why, or what I was hoping to see when I woke up, but it wasn’t my room.

This wasn’t my home. This was my cage.