Bird With A Broken Wing

By Theresa Dale

A fourteen-year-old girl living in a rural community of Nova Scotia, a group of neighborhood kids, and hours spent exploring or just hanging out in the woods and on the train tracks along the river. Bird With A Broken Wing brings us back to a time when the best thing about evenings and weekends was heading outside to find your friends - but there is nothing typical about Margot's new friend, Wren. And the new family at the bottom of the hill knows why.

Just as she tries to accept her feelings of being perpetually left behind, Margot discovers some of the different faces of love in the most unexpected way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paper Doll Publishing
• Release date: May 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999277345

Book preview

For Shannon, Allyson, Sarah, Lyndsay, and the rest of the neighborhood

gang of my youth.

Also by Theresa Dale

That Summer

Rose's Ghost

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Chapter 1 - A Boy on the Tracks

The first time he appeared to her, Margot was walking along the tracks, humming. She balanced first on the right rail, switching to the left with a quick step in the middle when she lost her balance.  Sometimes she'd jump from tie to tie, one foot to the next, before hopping back up.

She didn't mind being alone. Her friends were all at school - there were no voices in the cow pastures aside from a lowly 'moo' now and then. The apple orchard beyond the trees to her right was silent; if you didn't know it was there, you'd never guess that after school, sounds of kids playing in the trees would carry out to the tracks. And when enough of the fruit had dropped to the ground to provide ammunition for an apple fight, those sounds erupted into shouts and laughter.

The girls mostly avoided the orchard when the apples were overripe; they hated getting the sour-smelling flesh of the bruised and rotting fruit on their clothes. Besides, being pelted with an apple hurt. But the boys showed off their bruises with pride, each battle a legend to be celebrated and boasted over for days or months afterward as they debated who had won. It seemed a futile exercise to Margot; they never reached a consensus.

She and the other girls would sit on the bridge over the river, their ears habitually pricked up for the sounds of an approaching train, the boys' shouts travelling to them from the orchard. Ella would confidently sit on the wooden rail at the edge of the bridge, or sometimes lay across the ties in the sun. Sometimes Margot’s breath would catch as she watched her friend coolly dangling her sneaker-clad feet over the edge, suspended thirty feet above the rushing water below.

Ella and Margot were the same age, but in the maturity category, Ella had eclipsed Margot (and perhaps all the other kids in their grade, too!) long ago. Ella had an undeniable air of sophistication about her. She waited at the bus stop one driveway over from Margot’s house every morning, the rest of the neighborhood kids forming a circle as they arrived. Even when the older boys would join them, Ella was the focus at the head of the group, whether she had anything to say or not. Their close friendship had suffered a bit in those preteen years as Ella grew up and Margot got left behind. She knew Ella had a group of friends at school that she probably didn’t fit in with, and mostly that didn’t bother her. She’d never felt compelled to blend in with the crowd - but she couldn’t deny the feeling of being left out as everyone else shopped for the latest trendy clothes and learned the words of new songs together.

Being homeschooled meant that Margot was always behind when it came to the latest trends. It also meant her family depended solely on her father’s income as a scientist - it sounded prestigious, but it was hard to get a well-paying job as a scientist in a small town. Both of her parents had made sacrifices so they could raise their children how they felt was best. So, Margot knew they didn’t have a lot of money; her clothes were either homemade or found in the bins at the local Frenchy's, and they never ate at restaurants like the neighborhood kids talked about doing. 

But they had advantages, too. Her parents were of the opinion that the public-school system underestimated a child’s ability to learn, and was stuck in traditional teaching methods.  According to them, the curriculum was sadly bereft of life skills, too. So, having finished school early herself, their mother was only too happy to take on the challenge of teaching her children in creative and exciting ways. They tackled the mandatory curriculum and then explored further, their mother letting them lead as she filled in the gaps.

Consequently, the three were eager to learn and ended up being far advanced in their studies, often able to wile away at least part of the day as they wished. For the twins, that usually meant building Lego or playing with their dinky cars in the sandy ditch by the house. For Margot, it meant long walks on the train tracks or to the dead end at the top of the street.

Which was what had brought her to the tracks that day, despite her mother’s warning of impending rain as she ran out the front door, the metal frame of the screen smashing hard against the door frame as she went.

It was a grey-sky day, and cool, especially in the shorts she’d outgrown the summer before. She was aware of gooseflesh prickling on her skin as a cool breeze tickled her bare legs and arms. Taking a moment to look up from the wooden ties of the track, she searched for the bridge far behind her. She’d come further than she’d realized, the green earth rising to the fenced land on the right of her, and the left dropping suddenly into the thick forest of pine, oak and maple.

The air smelled like rain. Though she’d been looking forward to seeing Ella and the rest of her neighborhood friends after the bus dropped them off, it seemed likely their jaunts through the woods and along the tracks would have to wait until tomorrow. She shrugged as she turned back around. An afternoon listening to music in Ella’s bedroom would be OK, too. 

She decided to take the tracks all the way to the edge of the cow pasture at the dead end of the street. She stepped onto the right rail, her arms reflexively reaching outward on either side of her as she balanced, and immediately stepped down again, hard, when movement ahead of her caught her eye.

There was a boy on the tracks.

He was sitting to the outer right, his right leg bent over the rail and his foot resting on the ground inside. His left appeared to be folded beneath him. It seemed an awkward position, making Margot wonder if he was hurt. Something in her gut said she should find out, but she paused. She didn’t recognize him. Inherently shy, she typically counted on her more outgoing friends to ease her into comfort when new kids came to the neighborhood. But they were all at school today. 

How come this guy isn’t? Margot wondered.

He was quite a distance from her, probably close to the dump - a notorious place between the tracks and the road for locals to throw their unwanted furniture, equipment and the like. She considered turning back toward the bridge, but the sky was ever darkening, the formerly innocuous shades of grey deepening into massive rainclouds. It would take twice as long to go back that way, and it would also mean negotiating the narrow trail through the woods to Greenwood Square afterward. That was unpleasant enough when it wasn’t raining, thick as it was with mosquitos and cursed with mud and damp from the little brook that trickled through.

The boy turned his head toward her now, his neatly-cut, sandy blonde hair shining in what was left of the sunlight as he did. She took a step back. He waved. She paused, then raised a hand, waving back.

It was something. She continued toward him.

His head resumed its downward position, a shadow across his profile. He seemed to be digging at the ground with something. Margot approached him, now able to see a large railroad spike in his hand coming down on a wooden tie. He’d already gouged it considerably.

What are you doing? she asked, stopping on the tracks beside him.

He looked up at her. I found this on the tracks, he said, holding it out for her examination.

She took it from him gingerly. We’ve found these before, she said, handing it back and adding, The tracks are old.

The boy nodded, his gaze finding the trail to the dump just beside the tracks.

Margot followed his gaze, a thought occurring to her. Oh! Are you one of the new kids who moved in at the bottom of the hill? she asked, already feeling pleased she’d be able to place him when she told Ella about this later.

He squinted up at her again. What sunlight remained uncovered by dark clouds seemed determined to shine into this boy’s eyes. Sure, he said finally, and Margot nodded.

Thunder rolled in the distance. Margot looked toward the sound. She was walking straight into it. Making a quick decision, she gestured toward the trail that would take her past the dump. Rain’s coming. I’m going to go home through there; do you want to come? She offered her company, excited to be the first in the neighborhood to show the new kid around a bit as they walked home.

He shook his head. Nah, not yet, he answered.

She looked at him doubtfully. OK, but you don’t want to be back here when lightning's coming down, she said, thinking of her lessons about the power of the electricity that could come down from the sky.

The kid went back to gouging at the rail tie with his spike. His distraction allowed Margot a longer look at him. She was sure he was older than her. His lightly freckled cheekbones jutted out under his unusual crystal-blue eyes. The one leg he’d stretched out before him was long and lanky, his kneecap a bony protrusion where his leg bent. The leg folded beneath him showed the top of a dirty sock, but no shoe as far as Margot could see, his toes protruding from beneath his backside as he sat on his foot. She looked back at his other foot. That one sported a sock, too, but ended in a scuffed-up sneaker, the brand of which she was unable to identify.

Where’s your other shoe? she asked.

He shrugged.

Margot was ready to give up. She jumped over the rail and began walking toward the dump.

You coming back tomorrow? the boy called out from behind her.

She stopped, turning to look at him again. He’d pulled his left leg over the rail now, too, and had wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling his knees up to his chin. His skin looked dirty; his left leg in particular was smeared with rail grease.

Maybe, she said, then pointed at his leg. Did you hurt yourself?

A while ago, he said, squinting at her.

The breeze made her shiver. She turned around and started off again, hurrying now as the thunder boomed closer overhead.

See you tomorrow, she heard him call, but didn’t look back as she started to run.

Weird kid, she thought as the first cool drops hit her. I’ll see what Ella thinks, she decided, but immediately changed her mind. The thought of Ella’s easy popularity and the fact that the boy would probably start waiting at the bus stop with the rest of the neighborhood kids gave her pause. She decided she'd rather keep him to herself, at least until she knew more.

The rain came down harder, the sound of it hitting the grass in the field ahead of her a relief. She was almost home.

But she would come back tomorrow.

Chapter 2 - The Willow

M argot’s wake-dreaming again! Aaron exclaimed gleefully, bouncing in his seat.

Margot tore her eyes away from the window to look at her brothers, who sat across from her at the dining room/lessons table. Aaron smiled hugely, his dark eyes sparkling, while Mason giggled, his little fists balled up in front of his mouth.

She rolled her eyes and gathered her papers. I’m going to finish this in my room, she said as she stood.

Mom looked up from her book, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Oh, no you don’t. Math’s done at the table, Margie, you know that. She looked over at the twins, asking, Are you two done?"

The boys straightened up and bent over their work, Mason still stifling his giggles. They were likely motivated by the thought of free time later. Mom raised her eyebrows at them, then looked back at Margot, giving her head a shake.

The rain had them cooped up yesterday.