Page 36 of First Kiss with a Mothman

Chapter

Twelve

ARIE

“And so, always check in with Selena,” Mom says.

“Yup. Got it.”

“Do you have enough soap and shampoo?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And clean underwear?”

“Mom, please,” I mutter. I’m walking with her across the quad, saying whatever it takes to get her to leave. The more I nod, the sooner she should get into her car and end this weekly visit.

It’s been over a week since my amazing day trip with Mort that had a bittersweet ending. I’ve been trying to keep my spirits up as I did coursework, explored the library, and practiced all week. My conversations with Mort have been strictly platonic after orchestra class, and he claims to be swamped with homework as well. I have no choice but to believe him; we are students after all. It’s selfish of me to keep taking his time, going to parties and day trips, and the like.

And it’s even more selfish to want to make out with him again. And maybe take off some clothes and do more. Maybe selfish isn’t the right word; horny is more appropriate.

“Don’t sass me, Arie Baker.” Mom pauses, and I suspect we’re near the orchestra building. “My job is to protect you.”

“And you’re doing a good job of it.”

“From monsters.”

“Mom,” I whine.

“It’s a valid concern! Your uncle and Selena send me so many articles about how dangerous they are.”

“Do they send you articles about all the crimes committed by humans?”

She makes a dismissive noise, and I try not to glower at her. When the perceived majority population does a crime, it’s an outlier, but when a marginalized group does it, suddenly they’re the real threat? I see how it is.

“I’m gonna go practice.” I grip my violin case and touch the door to the music building.

“You sure you don’t want me to bring you to your room?”

“I’m sure. I want to be extra prepared for the recital. You’re coming, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “Keep checking in with Selena.”

“She has her own classes!”

“Then check in with me.”

“I do. I will. I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, honey.”

With that, she’s gone, and I enter the building. After a minute of calming breaths, I turn and exit the door. I recall the sunrise touching my face as I played my favorite songs at Stokerbram Park. Some music in nature would do me good right now. I can forget all about a mom who refuses to loosen her grip on me, and the boy who refuses to lock me down.

I take out my violin, leaving the case on the cement walkway. I don’t hear anyone around, so I proceed to play some scales. Then I get into a real rhythm, hitting a minor key suite I practiced once upon a time. The anger in the notes somehow validates my rage. I play and play, faster and faster, the ferocious melodies sending musical shockwaves around me. I can almost see the notes bounce off the walls and trees of campus. I’m so in sync with the angry music, it’s like I’m one with the sounds.

And somehow, I can sense all of the birds high above campus and in the nearby woods flying to me. Huh…

I catch my breath and put my arms down. My heart is still beating rapidly, and I gradually lose my connection to the dozens of birds around Creelin. That got intense. As adept as I am on the strings, that’s never occurred before. What was that?