Good, Evil, and the Gray Area (FIRST DRAFT)

Chapter 33

We had planned out our trip back to America fastidiously. Probably too fastidiously, but in reality neither Ava, or I, wanted to leave. Not really.

We were comfortable here, and safe. There was no one trying to abduct me, no one trying to kill Ava. It was warm, whereas right now it was probably freezing up north in the USA, since it was January, the coldest month of the year.

The plan was that Zahir would teleport with us to America, Maine to be exact, and as soon as we were relatively safe he would teleport back to his tribe.

I was devastated that he wouldn't come with us. I knew that he wanted to become a medicine man, and that he thought it was destiny, but couldn't that wait? I had told him that I understood, and I did, in a way. I understood that he wanted to serve his tribe, and be loyal to his people, but I thought we were close. I thought we were friends. He had helped me through that week when I couldn't find Ava, and was pretty much stranded in Africa, then he had helped me find the spider, and the antivenom, without me.

He thought we were friends too, I knew he did. He had been hurt when I told him I had thought he wouldn't, couldn't understand about what I was.

Not that I really know. I don't know what I am. I don't know who I am, either. Ava tells me that I'm Lee, her best friend. The fire creating, cat morphing girl. I don't know if she's right.

I'd like to know who my parents are, even if they're dead. In all likelyhood, they probably are dead, but there's hope.

Maybe I wasn't born. Maybe I mutated out of weird gasses and global warming.

Anyway, we had decided on a date, as well. January eleventh. And that was today.

I had packed up my stuff, the little stuff I had. My old sneakers, which one of the women had repaired for me with leather. They were nicer now then they ever were. Then their's my old clothes, which had also been repaired by the women. They used scraps of colorful cloth that they had left over from the quilts they stitched. They traded leather, skins, and plants for this cloth. Plus, my new clothes. Made of cloth and leather, they were patterned from my old T-shirt, and I showed them how to make shorts. Last, but far from least, the shoes they had made. Cork soled, leather, broken in, runnable sandals. I loved them.

I packed all that in a leather satchel they had made.

A weird thing with the morphing is that whatever is on you for clothes and shoes at the time stays on you, I guess. The animal you morph into isn't clothed, but when you morph back, you are. I don't know how this happens, or where the clothes go.

I was wearing the new shirt, my old pants and sneakers (it's cold in Maine), and my bag on my back. I was going to try to morph with the bag, in hopes that it would go wherever the clothes do as well. If not, I would have to carry it as an animal. In case of this, the women had made it fully adjustable.

I stood on the outskirts of the camp, watching. The women were bustling around, tanning leather, cooking, sewing. One was tending a fire. The woodsy smoke drifted toward me, and I inhaled deeply. I would miss this.

Ava was suddenly at my side. She had a way of melting away, and suddenly appearing. To this day she surprises me with it. That day, however, I was nonplussed.

She stood beside me, wordlessly.

"I'm gonna miss this," I said.

"So am I," she said. It was all she needed to say.

We stood together for some time, just watching the camp. Everyone had a job to do. If I stayed, I'd have to start working, pulling my own weight. For the past couple days, the women had insisted that I didn't work. I had felt extremely guilty, and knew it would only get worse.

"You guys ready?" Asked Zahir, walking up to us.

"Yeah," Ava said. I remained silent.

"You can stay, you know," Zahir said softly. Ava nodded, her eyes sad.

"No, I can't. Let's go," I said. Ava's expression lifted, while Zahir's darkened.

It was almost like I was choosing between the two. I wasn't, really, because I knew I had to go home to America. However, it felt like it. I hated to see that sad expression on Zahir's usually chipper face. Maybe he saw it like I had chosen Ava over him.

"You can still come with us, you know," I said hopefully, staring at him.

"No, I can't. I can't go with you just as much as you can't stay here. You know how I feel, I imagine you're feeling the same way. It's like you're choosing between me, and Ava and your home. I know you'd choose Ava before me, even without going home on her side. That doesn't bother me," a lie. I knew it bothered him. "I'm choosing between you, and my tribe. You know I can't choose you."

He looked away. I stared straight ahead. So he did understand. He wasn't mad at me. A tingly relief flooded through me.

"Thanks, Zahir. Now, let's go," I said.