Become What You Know

In the movies it always starts with foreshadowing. The hero is introduced at just the right moment to let us all know that today is not going to be an average day.
Real life isn't like this.
Our poor heroine didn't stand a chance. There was no foreshadowing. No jittery feeling in the pitt of her stomach to let her know something was off.
One moment she was cutting through an alley in between the market and her apartment. The alley wasn't badly lit. It wasn't in gang territory and she'd never had a problem walking it alone.

One moment she was all solid sturdy steps, the next thing she knew she was on her knees. Too much weight pressed to her back, her sack falling. Apples rolling wildly. Her first thought was that all her apples were going to bruise. The second was "oh god I'm going to die".
She scrambled to her feet, glancing over her shoulder. She stopped suddenly; staring down at the boy-man-that was hunched at her feet.

"Oh god, it hurts," he moaned. There was dried blood caked to his bareback, but no wound visible.

His back suddenly split, skin sliding open, freeing blood and god knows what else. The boy whimpered as large, white wings folded out his back.
Our heroine.
She fainted.
That's the bit of foreshadowing the movies got right.

When she awoke it was to the boy peering down at her. The scorpion tattoo on his neck twitched when he swallowed, and she followed the line of his jaw.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking down at her. She nodded, rubbing at the bruised part of her head. She looked at his back, the wings spread wide. Nodded to herself again.

"Oh good," she said, "At least I know I didn't imagine it."

"No, they're real," he reached up behind himself, and pulled at one of the feathers hanging over his shoulder. It came out and he twitched in pain, his wing jerking in reaction.

"Shit, ouch," he muttered. The wings twitched, as if trying to push the discomfort from his limbs.

"How. I--just, how is this possible?” she asked with wide eyes.

"There's this world," he said, "It co-exists with the reality that most know. In this world people have abilities. I always knew this was a possibility. I mean, my mom said that my father had wings, but when they didn't appear when I hit puberty I didn't think they would grow at all."

"So you're a what, a mutant?" she asked, thinking about the comics she used to read when she was younger.

"Um, no, actually. I think my dad was an angel or something. I'm Frank, by the way."

"Tarra. We should probably get out of here. My apartment is not to far from here."

"Okay. Yeah, that would be great. I need a cigarette," he looked at his toes, "Oh dude! I killed your apples."

"It's okay," Tarra said, "I'll buy more later. No dude, come on, leave them there, before someone sees you like that."

"Oh, right, shit, I probably should have thought of that," Frank looked over his shoulder at his wings once more, "Hey, thanks for not freaking out on me."

"Your welcome, although, honestly, I kinda fainted on you, you know?" she said, leading him in the back door of her complex and into her apartment, "I don't know why I'm not more freaked out about this. I can. It’s almost like I feel you in my head, you know?"

"Yeah, no, I get it completely," Frank said a gleam in his eye, "I should call my mom. Maybe she'll know how to find my dad."

"Yeah, the phone is on the counter in the kitchen," Tarra waved her hand in the right direction, "Make yourself at home. I think I have a coat you can have, that should cover those wings of yours."

"Right, thank you, again," he said disappearing into the kitchen.

Tarra stared at the doorway for a moment before shaking her head and turning down the hallway to her room. She dug through the closet all the way to the back until she found the long black leather trench coat. She slid it off the hanger and headed back to the kitchen.
Frank was giggling, loud and high pitched and Tarra stopped to smile. Obviously his mother was trying to make him feel better about the situation. And judging by the laughter she was succeeding.

When he hung Tarra handed the coat over, "So, what did she say."

"She said she was going to lay newspaper down in my room and invest in sunflower seeds. She also asked if I would save her postage and deliver all her letters like a good little pigeon."

"Frank."

"Oh, right! She said that my father was a one night stand. And that the second time she'd seen him had been after my birth, when he came to see me. She also said that she has no idea how to get in touch with him."

"Okay, well then that wasn't much help," Tarra muttered.

"Yeah, but then she said that she'd heard of this place where people with abilities sometimes go to find answers."

"Really? Where is that?" Tarra wrinkled her nose.

"The Brothers Way Cafe," Frank said, "It’s in New Jersey. She's going to send money for a ferry ticket, and then I'm going to head that way."

"I'm coming with you," Tarra said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Frank dropped the cordless phone.

"Wait. What?" he asked, looking at Tarra.

She smiled at him, "I kinda feel like I have to. I mean, Jersey isn't too far from New York anyway, right? And I want to help you. There can't be that many people with wings just hanging around the Eastern seaboard, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Frank nodded, "Okay, you can come. I think you have a bigger part in this, honestly. I don't think it was accident that I fell on you."

"One day you're going to have to explain to me how you fell on me," Tarra said, "Since your wings hadn't even sprouted yet."

"Yeah, no," Frank denied. There was no way he was telling her that.