Little Blackbird by Jennifer Moorman

fire and hissing at him from the tree.”

Kate chuckled and rubbed her eyes with fisted hands. When she lowered her hands, she blinked at Evan. Her throat squeezed and tears swirled in her eyes.
    “Hey,” he said, dropping down beside her, “what are those for? You didn’t like my story?”
    Kate shook her head. “No. I mean, yes, I did, but it’s not that. It’s … you’re leaving.”
    “For college, not forever.”
    Kate frowned. “It’ll feel like forever. I won’t have anyone when you leave.”
    “You have this whole town.” He smiled at her.
    Kate huffed. “This whole town thinks I’m your weird baby sister.”
    Evan laughed. “First of all, it’s obvious you’re not a baby anymore. You do have that habit of blubbering and whining like one–” He winced when Kate hit his arm. “Okay, okay, I wasn’t serious, but you’re wrong. No one has ever told me they thought you were weird.”
    Kate stood and brushed herself off. She wiped at her eyes. “No one is going to tell you that. I just know it. Everyone likes you.”
    Evan stood and squared his shoulders. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”
    Kate rolled her eyes. “And humble.”
    Evan laughed and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “You’ll always have me, and you should give the town a chance. You might see they aren’t so bad.”
    “But what about … about, well, you know.”
    “Your gift?”
    “Curse.”
    “Gift,” Evan said and squeezed her shoulder. “They’ll probably think it’s the coolest superpower they’ve ever heard of.”
    Kate scoffed. “You always look on the bright side.”
    “Is there another side?”
    “You are so irritating when you’re optimistic,” she teased. “And you smell like a cow patty.”
    “I aim to please.”
    Kate looked at him, and they both laughed. The sun warmed their cheeks, and she prayed for the summer to stretch on forever.
    A twig snapped behind Kate and snatched her from her memory. She glanced over her shoulder. A young man skidded down the slope, flailing his arms and knocking into low branches. He barely stopped himself from landing flat on his back, not more than thirty feet away from her. Kate jumped to her feet.
    “Geoffrey?” Her hand flew to her chest. “Are you okay?” She rushed over to him, too surprised to see him to register the way her whole body thrilled at the sight of him. “Why are you out hiking in your brace?”
    A wild trumpet vine hugged the trunk of a pine tree; the vine wrapped its way up from the earth and stretched at least ten feet above their heads. As soon as Kate neared it, buds appeared on the vine and burst open, popping like bang snaps, exposing red-orange blooms.
    “Whoa,” Geoffrey said as a trumpet flower cracked open beside his head.
    Crocus leaves knifed up through the soil around Geoffrey’s feet like emerald blades before pushing buds up through their center and unfolding purple, white, yellow, and fuchsia flowers.
    Kate’s eyes widened. No, no, no! Go back to sleep! What are you doing?
    Geoffrey leaned over and stared at the flowers with a disturbed expression. “What is going on? This is weird, right?”
    “Uh, no. It’s normal, but people don’t usually see this when it happens,” Kate lied. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, trying to release the frenetic energy that zipped through her, making her feel as though her heart had donned a pair of roller skates and raced around inside.
    Geoffrey stepped away from the flowers, and when the trumpet vine reached out a tendril for him, Kate slapped it away.
    “Stop,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
    Geoffrey stopped walking. “What?”
    Kate glared at the vine, and it pulled itself tighter against the tree. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
    Geoffrey smiled at her. “I knew it was you,” he said.
    “What?”
    He opened his hand and bright yellow sunflower petals fell from his fingers. “I had the strangest feeling when I was driving up to the park. Mom has her