Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
We both jumped back and then peeked through the metal gate.
He was just hanging out in there. He was fine. At least I was pretty sure he was; it wasn’t like he was making faces.
I held up my hand, and Am high-fived it. “We did it!”
The teenager grinned. “I’ll call Dad.”
We high-fived again, pumped up.
Amos hustled back inside his house, and I crouched down to look at my friend once more. He was a good hawk. “Good job, pretty boy,” I praised him.
Most of all though, I’d done it! I got him in there! All by myself.
How about that?
* * *
An hour later, I ran down the stairs at the sound of a car outside. Amos had said that his dad would be by as soon as possible. After relaying the information over, we’d split up, both of us too riled up with adrenaline to get back to writing; he’d gone back in to play video games, and I had gone upstairs. I had planned on going into town and hitting the shops to find something to send to Florida, but I had to know what was going to happen to my new friend.
By the time I opened the door into the garage, Mr. Rhodes was already out and walking over. He was in his uniform, apparently working on the weekend, and I’d be lying if I said that my mouth didn’t water a little at the way his pants hugged his muscular thighs. But my favorite part was the way his shirt was tucked in.
He was hot as shit.
“Hi, Mr. Rhodes,” I called out.
“Hi,” he actually replied, those long legs eating up the distance inside.
I went to stand next to the crate. “Look what we found.”
He took his sunglasses off, and his gray eyes settled on me briefly, eyebrows shooting up just a little. “You should’ve waited,” he said, coming to a stop in front of the crate too and then bending over.
He stood up straight almost immediately, looked at me, and then crouched that time, setting the leg of his sunglasses inside of his shirt as he said, in a weird, strained voice that didn’t sound pissed off… just strange, “You picked him up?”
“Yeah, I think he’s on ’roids. He’s pretty heavy.”
He cleared his throat and hovered there before Mr. Rhodes’s head tipped up toward me. He asked very slowly, “With your bare hands?”
“Am brought me some of your leather gloves.”
He peeked into the crate again, staring in there for a long, long time. Actually, probably just a minute, but it felt a lot longer. He only said one thing in that same strange tone, “Aurora….”
“Am said we should wait, okay, but I didn’t want my friend here to run off and then wind up on the street and get run over. Or something else. Look how majestic he is. I couldn’t let him get hurt,” I rambled. “I didn’t know hawks got that big. Is that normal?”
He pressed his lips together. “They don’t.”
Why did he sound so strangled? “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt him?”
He brought a big hand up to his face and smoothed it down from his forehead to his chin before he shook his head. His voice turned soft as his gaze moved back in my direction; he eyed my arms and face. “He didn’t hurt you?”
“Hurt me? No. He didn’t even seem to care. He was very polite. I told him we were going to help him, so maybe he could sense it.” I’d seen videos all the time of wild animals turning passive when they could sense someone was trying to help them.
It took me a moment to realize what was happening.
His shoulders started shaking. Then his chest. The next thing I knew, he started laughing.
Mr. Rhodes started laughing, and it was rough and sounded in a way like an engine struggling to come to life, all choked and harsh.
But I was way too disturbed to appreciate it because… because he was laughing at me. “What’s so funny?”
He could barely get the words out. “Angel… that’s not a hawk. It’s a golden eagle.”
* * *
It took him forever to stop laughing.
When he finally did, he just started cracking up all over again, these big belly laughs along with what I was sure were a couple of fresh tears his hands scrubbed away as he laughed.
I think I was too stunned to really appreciate that rough, unused sound.
But once he stopped laughing for the second time, he explained—wiping his eyes while he did—that he was going to take my friend to a licensed rehabilitation facility and he’d be back later. I blew my friend a kiss through the grate, and Mr. Rhodes started laughing all over again.
I didn’t think it was that funny. Hawks were brown. My friend was brown. It was an honest mistake.