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The wizard asked her to help him build a table.
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A plastic orange tree with fuzzy leaves brush against my shoulder as I wait beside Kill in the lawyer’s lobby. My legs are crossed at the knee and I can’t stop tapping my foot in the air.
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Charles was born with his wings.

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Wind yanked my hair like angry fingers, and I swallowed a laugh before Mom heard. With my toe, I found the iron platform and tentatively slid all my weight onto the fire escape. Yellow streetlights turned the brick of our building orange and gray. Ozone from the promised storm crackled in the air. I pressed my back against the rough wall and ( Read more... )

I was a goblin once.
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When we moved to the big house, Abuela said it was a dangerous place. Peligroso. Mom cut her a sharp glance, and said, “English, Mama.”
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