The Wings got me in big trouble.

After I calmed down I went up to my room, changed into a new shirt, and threw the old one in the trash. Friday was one of the only nights mom could eat dinner with us. It always looked like she'd rather be sleeping. After dinner we would play scrabble, which I never won but it was the only board game we'd kept over the years. Then, mom would give us our weekly allowance. Two quarters. Mom was determined to keep giving us an allowance, just like the old days, even if it wasn't a lot.

Cardinal picked up her quarters and stood up. "Can I go to the bank?"

"Of course, sweetie," Mom answered. Cardi skipped out the door. She was determined to get our family back on track and never seemed to buy anything.

Mom and I sat on the floor in silence, the finished scrabble game still sitting between us. The only word I had managed to get on the board was "sad", which was actually very sad to look at. 

"I found your shirt in the trash." Mom announced.

My heart skipped a beat. I put my head in my hands and groaned.  

"So did you get in a fight?" Mom asked.

"Kind of," I answered, still not looking at her.

Mom sighed, and I could imagine her rubbing her forehead like she did whenever she was stressed, which was a lot. "How do you kind of get in a fight?" 

"It was mostly one-sided," I said, cringing. This conversation was not going to end well.

 "So you didn't fight back?" Mom asked, sounding a little hopeful. "Are you ok?"

I finally looked up at her. She looked so concerned. I was burning with guilt. "I'm ok," I said, hesitating about how much I should say. "Dylan was the one who didn't fight back."

Mom leaned back in surprise. "The fight was with Dylan?"

"He wouldn't stop bothering me!" I added before she could say anything else. "I told him no over and over again but, he wouldn't listen and I got angry."

My mom stood up and began walking towards the kitchen area of our home. "So you attacked him?" She asked on her way. "Robin, this isn't how we solve things!"

I got up to follow her. "I only hit him once! And even that was kind of an accident. I didn't expect it to hurt him so much either!"

Mom placed a few dirty dishes into the sink and turned the water on all the way, then stood there, rubbing her forehead while she watched the sink fill up.

"Mom?" I asked, wondering if she had decided the conversation was done.

Mom sighed and looked at me, the tiredness showing through her eyes. "Is Dylan ok?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Maybe you should use your allowance to check on him and apologize," Mom said, although the word "maybe" didn't seem to give me much of a choice.

"Sure." I grabbed my quarters and went down seven floors to the lobby, where a rather banged up payphone hung from the wall. I inserted two quarters and dialed Dylan's house.

"Hello?" Someone asked on the other end. I noticed it was the voice of William, Dylan's father.

"Hi," I said. "Is Dylan there?"

"No, He's still at the hospital. You're lucky you caught me, I'm just about to go to work." He answered. "Do you know what happened? He's refusing to tell us."

I hung up the phone before I actually thought about what I was doing. Explaining what had happened to my mom was hard enough.

William was a security guard for the Thaddeus Corporation, a company that built nuclear weapons. The actual nuclear weapons weren't built in the city, but the headquarter building was the tallest skyscraper in the city and held a lot of confidential information. William worked directly for the government. For some reason that scared me.

I inserted my last two quarters and phoned the hospital.

"Welcome to Dynacaries Medical Center, how may I help you?" A woman's voice asked.

"Do you have a patient named Dylan Bean?" I asked.

"Yes. Please hold." 

I waited for a few moments, and then Dylan's voice came on the other end. "Hello?"

"Hey Dylan, it’s Robin," I said, relieved that he was at least conscious. "How are you doing?"

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. "Robin? I don't know anybody named Robin."

I groaned. "Dylan, this isn't funny."

"Exactly," Dylan said. "My whole life has just been ruined. I'm really tired, and I only have time to talk to family and friends. Good bye."

"I'm sorry-" I began. A low, monotone ring interrupted me.

"Dylan!" I yelled into the phone. No answer. The tone continued.

I slammed the phone down on the receiver. Dylan was my only friend. After I had found out about my wings, I had separated myself from everyone else. I looked around the forgotten lobby, with the wallpaper peeling off the walls, the rusted doorknobs, and a plant that looked like it hadn't been watered in ages. And In that moment, I felt horribly alone. 

                                                                                ***

  I wish I could say the month got better for Dylan.

 But the reality is it got worse.

Dylan's father crashed through a window on the second to last floor of the Thaddeus corp. skyscraper, and fell.  Nobody was sure why it happened, if someone had pushed him through or if he had jumped himself. The company refused to let anyone investigate.

I wasn't sure if I should go to the funeral or not, since Dylan hated me at the moment. He had been completely ignoring me at school, so I hadn't gotten to talk to him. I decided to go, even if he would hate me for it. Maybe he wouldn't.

 It was mostly a normal funeral, with almost everyone wearing black and having a frown on their face the whole time. 

 I wasn't able to talk to Dylan until the casket was buried and all was said and done. Everyone was starting to drift away, but a few stayed and talked in huddled groups. Dylan was over by his father’s grave, alone, standing with his arms folded while he stared at it. 

I walked up to him. He didn't acknowledge me at all. "Hi," I finally said.

Dylan continued to stare at the grave. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm mourning the death of my best friend's father," I answered, frustrated that he was still hating me.

Dylan made a sound low in his throat that made me want to run away and hide. I had never seen him like this before. He had always been so positive. Dylan was a good few inches taller than me, but it never seemed to show that much. Now he seemed like a very intimidating giant.

I tried to stand a little taller as I struggled to find something else to say. "How are you?"

Dylan laughed, although it was such a cold laugh it sent tingles up my spine. "That is a very interesting question."

"Well, you seem to be looking-" I began, then shrank back. Dylan had turned so I could see the other side of his face. I knew he had an eye patch, but I hadn't seen his face close up since before I hurt him. A thick scar, still fresh with the stiches in, ran from just above his shoulder, up his neck, and disappeared under his eye patch before ending at his forehead, in such a straight line it looked like I used a ruler to make the wound more perfect.

I stood back for a moment, completely frozen. I couldn't believe I had done so much damage. "Dylan, I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, I heard that before I hung up," Dylan said. "I'm permanently blind in this eye." He pointed at the eye patch. "And the doctors aren't sure yet, but you might have also permanently damaged the tissue in my shoulder and neck. I can barely even eat because it hurts to swallow. It also hurts a bit to talk. You've basically ruined my life. Happy?"

"No," I answered.

Dylan shook his head. "I'm not very concerned about me anyway. I'm worried about mom. She feels like she should have died before dad did, and now she's pressured to get a job, which she is obviously not in a position to do."

"You'll turn 16 in two months," I pointed out.

"We don't have two months," Dylan replied. "Especially with having to pay for chemo. And besides, all of the jobs that I was planning on getting require two eyes."

I looked down at the ground. I felt so horrible.

Dylan suddenly broke down crying. I took a step back, not sure what to do. I had a feeling he would murder me if I tried to comfort him.

 "Everybody thinks dad jumped out of the window on purpose. It doesn't make any sense!" Dylan wailed. "I don't think he would do that. I don't want him to be remembered that way. But the stupid government won't let anyone investigate to see if someone pushed him!"

I decided to stay quiet and let him just talk. I wasn't sure why he was telling me so much, but he needed to get it out.

"I know it's not your fault," Dylan continued. "But I feel like you could have flown in and saved him or something. I keep wanting to blame you. It's the worst feeling ever."

Actually, I was almost certain my wings couldn't support both me and a full grown man's weight. But what Dylan said seemed to turn something on in my brain. People were dying. Every day. Most people who had somehow received powers were off risking their lives to save them. I had only been caring about myself, and how the wings could affect me negatively.

I took a deep breath. "Hey Dylan?"

"Yeah?" Dylan asked, wiping away his tears.

"You read a lot of comic books, right?" The decision I was about to make would be life changing. Probably for worse.

Dylan's eye lit up like he could see what was coming. "Yeah?"

"Could you help me with something?"