CL Monroe

The first sign of trouble came when the alarm rang, and June Robinson put on her glasses that were no longer her glasses. They were sitting on her nightstand where she’d left them, and the thick black frames still looked just like they had last night, and the night before, and the hundreds of days before that. But the glasses blurred her vision and made her head hurt, so she dropped them back on the nightstand.

 

Sign number two occurred when June stumbled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She pulled her eyelids up, then the skin beneath her eyes down. But it was no illusion—her irises were not brown, not anymore. Her hair was still black, straight, and shoulder length, and she was still “big boned,” as people often called her as if that was somehow a kind or encouraging thing to say. Only then did she also realize that her vision without her glasses was as good—if not better—than with her glasses. That was sign number three. 

“Mom!” she yelled, running downstairs. June found her mother, Cordelia Robinson, at the kitchen island, coffee mug in hand. “Look at my eyes! They’re yellow!”

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Cordelia’s mouth curved downward as she approached. She studied June’s face. Then she grabbed June’s shoulder, pulling her closer, until their noses were almost touching. She stared into June’s eyes, and June stared back. 

 

Cordelia stiffened, staggered back a few steps, and dropped the mug. It shattered on the floor.
                                                                                                 

                                                                                                   ***

Forehead pressed against the passenger window, June soared through the sky, the wind in her wings and freedom in her bones. Many years ago, she had seen Cordelia shapeshift into an owl the size of a truck, and ever since, her daydreams always involved being an owl of vehicular size. She never imagined any other kind of animal.

“License plates, June?”

June stirred in her seat, pulling her mind back to the Jeep, and studied her reflection in the glass. Her yellow eyes stared back at her, just like they had for the last five days.

The Jeep shuddered as it hit a curve at a high speed, the highway winding through the Great Smoky Mountains. Thick fog hung over the landscape, lingering despite the sun overhead. The morning air blowing in through the car’s vents smelled of wet leaves and fall. After the eye doctor’s appointment that morning, June would arrive at school having only missed her first class.

“What were the license plates of the last two cars we passed?” Cordelia demanded.

June still felt the tug of sleep whenever she blinked, so she had no desire to engage in this game with Cordelia. “I’m tired,” she replied, “and I want to rest my mind for the math test I have later today.” 

“Speaking of, how did your science test go?”

June hesitated. “I got a 93.”

“Only 93? Were you even trying?” Cordelia’s voice was cold.

June felt a familiar hollowness settle into her chest. “Of course. It’s still an A.” 

“Sure. It’s a mediocre A. I thought you were better than mediocre. Now tell me the license plates.”

Daydreaming or not, her mom’s training ran deep, and June had still managed to note the passing cars. And, of course, their license plate numbers, which she recited while slumping deeper into the warm leather seat. This training, Cordelia claimed, would equip June so that she never ended up a victim, because there were worse things than giant owls in the world. Those worse things were demons, who had a nasty habit of eating people. Lots of people. 

June wasn’t exactly concerned about demons popping up in tiny Seven Falls, Tennessee, though, since they were rare and preferred crowded cities, where people could go missing without causing a stir. Cordelia had fled the life of a demon-hunting Shifter before June was born. And should June gain the ability to Shift, she wouldn’t hunt demons either—the way she saw it, most people deserved to be eaten. 

Before Cordelia could ask something like how many speed limit signs they had passed since leaving the doctor’s office, or how many pieces of trash littered the side of the road since the last mile marker, June spoke up. “I heard Dr. Beckett say something about us getting a second opinion about my eyes. Still sure nothing will happen to me tonight?” A hopeful grin rounded her face. At midnight, June would turn fifteen—when Cordelia turned fifteen, the whole owl thing had happened. But for years, Cordelia had assured June that she would never Shift, no matter her age.

“Yes,” Cordelia replied flatly.

“But the color…” June said, pointing to her eyes for emphasis.

Cordelia’s mouth formed a thin, tight line before she answered. “I’ve never heard of any changes occurring quite like this. Which makes me all the more certain you won’t Shift and this recent business with your eyes is all you’re going to get.”
Cordelia sounded confident, but her argument wasn’t convincing. Why would June’s eyes change color if nothing else was going to happen? And not only had they changed color, but June no longer needed her eyeglasses—she had perfect vision. Then there was her improved sense of smell and hearing, but she hadn’t told Cordelia about those things yet, because for the last five days Cordelia had been acting like a crazy person.

June studied her mom. Cordelia’s jaw slid back and forth (June could actually hear her teeth grinding) and her feathery brown hair, with the occasional streak of gray, looked dull and sticky. Her round, brownish-orange eyes were puffy and had dark bags underneath, making her even more bird-like. June sniffed the air and noticed a sour odor coming from Cordelia’s side of the car. She was wearing the same outfit she had worn for the past two days; the jeans and light purple sweater were saggy and tired, matching her eyes all the more. If she hadn’t changed clothes, she probably hadn’t bathed either.

June couldn’t remember ever seeing Cordelia like this, even after that one time she had gotten food poisoning—despite long and loud hours in the bathroom, she’d still managed to shower and change clothes within twenty-four hours. But Cordelia’s bathing and changing-clothes-like-a-normal-person streak had ended on the same day June’s eyes suddenly went from brown to yellow.

“Is everything okay?” June asked. “You haven’t changed clothes in days.”

“It’s just work—some of my research—that’s all,” Cordelia replied. She waved a hand in the air dismissively.

This was a lie. Cordelia never got stressed about work—she was a geneticist and owned her own research laboratory. She loved working and she did it all the time. June waited a few seconds before poking again. “Are you sure you aren’t concerned about being wrong? I’m not the expert, but it seems like genetics doesn’t explain—”

“Genetics must explain everything!” Cordelia snapped, running a hand through her hair so roughly that June guessed clumps would soon be missing.

June leaned back, making sure her own hair was out of Cordelia’s reach. “You’ve always known it could happen to me, right?”

Cordelia looked at her hands. Her eyes widened briefly, and she shook loose the strands tangled in her fingers. She took several slow breaths. “It’s not happening, June, and that’s not such a bad thing. The ability will skip over you and you’ll get to live a normal life.”

“What if I don’t want a normal life?”

“Then you’d be perfectly normal.” Cordelia’s mouth formed a faint grin while one hand rubbed the necklace under her sweater. While Cordelia had engaged in a few odd new behaviors since June’s eyes decided to transfigure themselves, rubbing her necklace like it contained a genie was not one of them—she’d been doing that for as long as June could remember. Though to be fair, the amethyst square hanging from the necklace was large enough to house a creature inside. “Everyone thinks they want to be different until they find out what it’s like. Now tell me, how many speed limit signs have we passed since leaving the doctor’s office?”

With a grumble, June gave the correct answer, waiting for the next inane question. But none came. Instead, Cordelia said, “Since you’re buying your lunch today, make sure to get a salad or something else healthy.” She glanced at June’s thighs, then turned back to the road.

June’s cheeks burned and the hollowness that had formed in her chest spread to her stomach. Criticizing June’s weight wasn’t a new behavior either; Cordelia had been doing that for time immemorial. June surreptitiously looked down so Cordelia wouldn’t notice and studied the outline of her legs under her flower-patterned, ill-fitting dress. She looked as thick as ever. Maybe if Cordelia let her pick out her own clothes, her weight wouldn’t be so noticeable. 

After a few minutes of silence, June imagined sprouting wings and flying, high in the sky, the wind in her face, desperate for the feeling of freedom again. She only returned to reality once, after Cordelia turned up the radio, to listen long enough to hear that a young girl had gone missing in the forest. Disappearances were becoming a daily event. 

In the last five days, five people had gone missing.