Chapter 5
5
Gabby began to say her goodbyes to her mom and Phin before she turned to leave. Her mom’s soft fingertips pressed into her arm, holding her back. “I have something for you,” she said, the whisper of a smile on her visage.
Phin unburied his face from Kristen’s other arm, brushing the long hair out of his bright blue eyes, rimmed with red from crying. Gabby’s heart broke. It shattered into a million pieces, like a glass vase on a marble floor. How many more times could she endure that expression on her brother’s face? She clenched her fist around the crow Phin had given her. She relaxed her hand, not wanting to accidentally break the gift. It was really considerate. And Phin would be crushed if anything happened to it. She pictured him doing extra chores around the house to afford not one but two figurines. And the thought he put into it. Dad can keep it in his beak when he changes back into a crow. Would she have been as attentive at Phin’s age? She didn’t think so. For ten years, Gabby had been an only child before Phin was born. The world used to revolve around her, at least her parents’ world. Now she wanted anything more than being the center of attention.
Kristen opened the bag on the couch, pulling out two thin books. “One’s a crossword puzzle and the other a word search. I thought it could be fun practice. Lynn said she gives you similar homework.” It was the consoling voice of her childhood, the one she heard after a scraped knee or a nightmare. It offered protection, patience, and love. The best ingredients to heal.
Gabby shook her head before nodding. Instead of getting frustrated with herself, she sung the word, “Yes,” on a random note.
Her mom raised an eyebrow, probably fearing something else had gone wrong with Gabby’s brain. She shrugged. “It helps. Lynn had me try it today,” she sang with oscillating notes. Crows weren’t known for their beautiful singing, but at least she wasn’t off-key. Maybe her new friend Lyla was better at singing and could help her out in the tune department. Her heart fluttered at the thought of spending more time with her.
“Cool!” Phin hopped off the couch, his sadness seemingly forgotten. “You can pretend you’re in a musical and sing all day.” His bright smile and hopefulness patched up some of Gabby’s broken heart. A little bit anyway.
Gabby took the books from her mother’s hands. “Th-th…” She squeezed her eyes tight, really focusing on what she wanted to say, picturing it in a song. “Thank you,” she sang. Kristen and Phin hugged her tight. Phin beamed at her before turning away, Kristen placing a reassuring arm around his shoulder. Gabby watched the pair disappear around the corner at the end of the hall.
Gabby walked back to her room, clutching the books to her chest, the tiny bird still wrapped in her fingers. She glanced at the poster promoting Huggie’s party next to the nurses’ station. She considered ripping it off the wall. Then a crazy thought popped into her head. What if her new friend planned to go? It might not be so bad to attend, in that case, considering Lyla seemed more than content to do all the talking. Besides, the woman was beautiful and kind.
Butterflies formed in Gabby’s stomach at the thought of asking Lyla out. What if she said no? Wait. What if Gabby couldn’t even ask? She bit her lip. Maybe she could mime it to her like a round of charades. She chuckled at the mental image of her trying to act it out and Lyla guessing all the wrong things. She was never very good at the game.
She popped her head into room 102—the room Lyla had said was hers. A messy bed and an empty tray of food sat in the center of the room. A large bouquet of flowers fanned out near the windows. A quick pang of jealousy nipped at Gabby. It stifled the second she noticed the Get well. Love, Mom scrawled on the card in fancy cursive sticking out of the wrapper. She felt guilty for the brief tang of jealousy, though she couldn’t help it. She glanced to the open door of the empty bathroom. Her pink-haired friend was nowhere to be seen. While Gabby wasn’t ready to ask her out, she’d hoped to see a friendly face. Maybe she was remembering the room number wrong. She didn’t think so. It wasn’t unusual for patients to not be in their rooms. Many had a slew of doctor and therapy appointments.
Her heart sank a little while staring at the vacant bed. Maybe Lyla was discharged. While that would be great news for Lyla, Gabby felt lonely after the thought. She’d started looking forward to having a new friend, someone who wasn’t family, someone without expectations who knew what she was going through. The staff seemed to understand, but they were her caretakers, not her friends. Dad got it, but between the both of them, they could hardly get through a conversation. Lyla seemed happy to chat on by herself, putting no pressure on Gabby to talk much. That made it less stressful.
Then Gabby noticed some items on the table next to the bed. Her heart lifted. She can’t be discharged, not if her things are still here! The picture was of Lyla—sans feathers—standing next to four boys of various ages. They must be her family. A small pebble sat next to the frame. Gabby stared at it, wondering what its significance was. A good luck charm maybe.
She thought back to the crown of feathers around Lyla’s head. Some of the rescued experiments started out human, but others had been born shifters. Was Lyla always a hummingbird shifter, or was this world new to her? They didn’t talk about that last night, but Gabby didn’t think Lyla started out human. Sandy seemed to favor birds. Dr. Grimm did, too. Nausea roiled in Gabby’s stomach at the thought of the bad doctor. He had to be at-large still. Not that she was able to inquire about it—though not for lack of trying—but she got the feeling he was lurking about, biding his time. But for what? She didn’t want to know. It would be wonderful if she never saw that creep again.
Gabby left Lyla’s room and walked on down the hallway, nodding her greetings to the doctors and nurses that filled the space. Most of them made their rounds and checked on patients. Some traveled to the breakroom for a much-needed caffeine fix.
Her room seemed too far away. Gabby didn’t have the mental fortitude to try to converse with anyone. She clutched her new presents to her chest, powerwalking down the hall to avoid speaking to any chatty staff or patients. Her spirits rose slightly when she made it to her room. Trying to talk earlier had been tiring. Seeing her family was exhausting. And not their fault in any way. It is what it is . It was just hard.
The summer sun must have been on vacation. The cloudy sky ushered in rain that streaked down the window. It left a small puddle on the sill. Odd. Gabby couldn’t recall leaving the window open. Maybe one of the nurses decided she needed fresh air and opened it. They were always trying to convince her to sit outside in one of the courtyards.
“Being inside all the time isn’t going to help you heal,” Nurse Mya would remind her. Gabby knew the nurse meant well but figured she’d speak the same whether she was inside or out.
She set down her gifts on the table next to the bed and crossed the room to the window. She toed the wet tiles, not wanting to soak the slippers she wore. Nothing pissed her off more than a wet foot. She doubted even aquatic shifters enjoyed that experience.
She slid the window shut, noticing the screen was torn as the gentle breeze blew in. Odd. She didn’t remember it being like that before. She’d have to let someone know. She looked to the mess of water on the sill and the floor, shuddering at the thought of having to ask someone for a towel. They’d probably want to know why she needed one. That would be too many words.
As she surveyed the mess, she noticed a slip of paper peeking out from under the wall-mounted heater/air conditioner unit. Gabby hoped it wasn’t important because it seemed to have absorbed a good deal of water. She carefully extracted it before unfolding it, wary that wet paper tore easily.
Gabby couldn’t make sense of what she saw. It appeared to be a map of WANC, detailing the various spaces inside, including the hospital wing. Last Gabby knew, they weren’t giving maps out to visitors, and staff wouldn’t need one, so who did this belong to?
Gabby jumped as a staff member, Char, entered the room, tray in hand.
“It’s lunchtime,” they announced, placing the tray on the side table that could roll over to cross the bed. Char’s brows raised after noting the look on Gabby’s face. “I swear they didn’t accidentally give you chicken noodle soup again. It’s tomato. See?” They pointed to the thick orange liquid in the bowl next to the grilled cheese sandwich. Even though the kitchen used certified shifter-free meat, and wild crows might eat nestling birds, Gabby chose to not eat birds on principle. It felt wrong, though other types of meat were just fine.
Gabby shook her head and held out the saturated paper. “Found.” She breathed deep and focused, trying to find that part of her brain that was used in singing. Picturing herself singing the words, she sang-talked, “I found this by the window.”
Char’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, Gabby. That was a full sentence!”
A hot blush filled Gabby’s cheeks. She hated being the center of attention, even if there were only two people in the room. She especially didn’t know how to take compliments. Instead of trying to muddle through saying thanks, she pointed at the window, bringing Char back to the problem at hand. “Right.” Char glanced down at the paper, careful not to rip it. Their dark brows wrinkled up in interest. “This is a map of the hospital.” Concern replaced the joy on Char’s face. “Show me exactly where you found this.”
Gabby crouched down, pointing to the place on the floor where she found the map. Then she stood, opening the window and flicking the torn screen. She had enough talking for one day and felt Char could piece together what she was implying.
Char poked their fingers through the hole in the screen. “That’s large enough for a small shifter, wouldn’t you say?” Char locked their deep green eyes on Gabby, anxiety printed on their face.
Gabby nodded. Though she shouldn’t have felt relief, she did. It came in quick waves, washing away the worry from before, if only because now she wasn’t alone in this. Char would help her.
But it brought a new reason for anxiety. If the paper wasn’t dropped from someone inside WANC, that meant someone who shouldn’t be there now was. Gabby felt her eyes widen as she locked eyes with Char, the meaning of what they implied sinking in. She immediately thought to Dr. Grimm. He was back. And that meant she wasn’t safe.
And she still couldn’t get the words out to explain it.