TITLE: Young Adult
There is a difference in this calling—like the foreboding I had on the day my mother chose to leave. I was only a fledgling, but I still feel the pain of her decision. A dull ache in my chest that only flying can relieve.
Above me, a seagull spreads her wings wide and teases me with her lazy spiraling dive. I dare to glance to the side, letting my impatience break my rigid pose. The others balance along the cliff’s edge, a long line of Falco. The elite are farthest away from me, their positions defined by skill. The last in our class is beside me, even though I placed above him—and above many of them—in our competitions. I remain at the end of the line, my mixed heritage trumping any strength I possess.
Movement flashes in the periphery of my vision, but I remain still.