The Lost Girl by Sangu Mandanna

Author:Sangu Mandanna
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Love & Romance, Teen & Young Adult, Science Fiction & Fantasy
ISBN: 9780062082312
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-08-27T23:00:00+00:00

I’m in a good mood on Friday. I’ve been waiting for the end of the school year for weeks. I’m going to have to spend most of the holiday studying, until our exams are over, but I don’t have to be back in school except on exam days. Not until July, anyway. Sean always started school in September and finished in June, but here we run from July to April; it won’t be long before we’re back for the new school year.

The last class of the day is English Literature. Mrs. Singh divides the class into pairs and asks each pair to talk for five minutes about a writer we’ve studied this year. I wait, fully expecting to be paired with Sam, which would be a very Mrs. Singh-like thing to do.

I’ve underestimated her. She pairs me with Ray.

I stay very still, arms folded on the table. In front of us, Ray’s profile is dark, brooding, and Hamlet-esque in expression. I can almost picture him tearing his hair out.

Sam, who is supposed to be working with Lekha, comes to sit by her. He edges away from me, apparently convinced I’ll choose this moment to wreak vengeance for my black eye and bruised face. I ignore him, watching Ray instead.

“And what do the two of you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Singh demands, glaring at Ray and me. “Did I or did I not tell you to work together? Amarra, come forward.”

“I’d rather stay here, Mrs. Singh,” I say politely.

“Ray, move back, then.”

“I’m staying here,” he says through gritted teeth.

Mrs. Singh sends us both out of the classroom and slams the door after us.

“That was childish,” snaps Ray.

“Ever heard of a pot and kettle?” I snap back, irritated.

I’m still aggravated hours later. He has a remarkable knack for getting under my skin. I scowl out the window on the bus, stomp loudly into the house, and bang mugs together as I make myself a drink. Trust him to ruin my good spirits. Nobody else is home. Lekha is at the dentist’s. There’s no one to distract me.

Then I think of the attic. If Alisha’s studio can’t make me feel better right now, nothing else will. I go upstairs.

It’s as beautiful as I remember. I’ve been here plenty of times since my first visit, but it never gets any less awe-inspiring. I stand in the middle of the attic and turn, absorbing each piece of this world as slowly as I can, savoring it hungrily, joyfully.

There are boxes in a corner of the attic. One is marked JUNK, so I look through it and find scraps of paper, wires, brushes, feathers. I pick out some tough wire and long black feathers.

Hot summer air flutters through the windows. I smell salt and earth and baked concrete, and it makes me want to be outside, high up in the air.

I twist the wire into a shape. At first I start to make a bird, a seagull or a crane, like the wax birds I used to give Sean.

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