Read Online The Importance of Wings by Robin Friedman - Free Book Online Page B

graphic detail all the bloody things that have happened there. He also adds some imaginative stories of his own involving chain saws, axes, ice picks, and black crows with sharp beaks.
    Goose bumps on my arms and legs sprout into Mount Everests. Some kids in the creepy, zombie-head circle squirm uneasily. Others sniffle in low voices.
    I glance at Liat. Her face is expressionless.
    We hear loud thrashing noises. Eddie stops talking. A bunch of Things suddenly crash out of the woods and into the clearing. The zombie-head circle erupts in screams. Kids jump up and run in all directions. The Things reach out arms and grab at people. Eddie shines his flashlight onto them.
    It’s red-bumped-pimply-faced Glenn! And his red-bumped-pimply-faced friends!
    I scramble to my feet and, without even devoting one ounce of brain activity to the thought, take off. I ignore twisted branches scratching at my arms and face. I trip over a log, fall facedown into a pile of crud, get up, and take off again. Not until I’m at the edge of the woods do I stop running. I’m surprised to see Gayle and Liat beside me. We’re all panting.
    “I can’t believe … we just left like that,” Liat says.
    Not very Wonder Woman–like. I feel totally uncool.

chapter fifteen
    it’s the day after halloween. Gayle and I are having candy bars for breakfast, but they’re bitter, not sweet, on my tongue.
    I’m thinking about Liat.
    Liat and I are the same age, we came to the U.S. at exactly the same time, and we both have strange Israeli parents (except for her not having a mother).
    And yet.
    I am afraid.
    Embarrassed.
    Confused. Liat is not.
    The sound of the doorbell interrupts my thoughts. I open the door to find Liat and Rivka standing on our stoop. Rivka is wearing a neon-orange top, dark pink pants, and deep-purple cowboy boots. She is so bright I have to squint. Liat is carrying a foil-wrapped plate.
    “Rivka made this,” Liat says, handing me the plate. “It’s her fantastic
schnitzel.”
    “Just for you,
booba!”
Rivka screeches.
    It smells wonderful. “Thank you,” I say.
Schnitzel
isn’t a real Hebrew word, but for some reason, it’s the word most Israelis use for fried chicken.
    “I go now,” Rivka says. “I have perm twins today.” Her boots click smartly on the sidewalk as she hurries away.
    I take the plate from Liat. It’s very American, when you think about it, to bring food to your neighbors. Funny that Rivka, who is so Israeli, would do that.
    “What are perm twins?” I ask as I carry the plate carefully into the kitchen and set it on the table. Gayle’s still gorging herself on a Snickers bar.
    Liat follows me. “Oh, these cute little twin girls are getting perms today,” she says.
    Gayle sniffs loudly. “What’s that?” she asks.
    The scent of fried chicken has filled every crevice of the kitchen. Although I’m not hungry, I peel back the foil from the plate and gaze appreciatively at the golden-brown pieces. Gayle removes a leg and chomps down on it. Liat and I sit at the table and watch her.
    “Rivka’s a great cook,” Gayle says between bites.
    “Yeah, Rivka’s great,” Liat agrees.
    “Too bad she isn’t so great with clothes,” I say.
    “What’s wrong with her clothes?” Liat asks.
    I grunt. “Haven’t you noticed?”
    Liat shrugs. “They’re not so bad. A little bright, I guess.”
    I ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask for a long time. “How come your dad wears those outfits?”
    Gayle wipes chicken juice from her mouth and looks expectantly at Liat.
    Liat shrugs again. “I guess they’re comfortable.”
    “But they make him look so weird. Like Rivka.”
    “So?”
    “So, aren’t you worried?” “About what?”
    “About people staring at them? About being embarrassed when you’re with them?”
    “Maybe a little bit,” she admits.
    “What if someone called Rivka a weirdo while you were with her?” I ask, getting to the point.
    “I guess I’d ignore them.”
    “What if