Migratory Animals Read Free Page A

and feathers, eyes and beaks suddenly obscured by wing. Her sons stood to watch orange puzzle pieces converge and fly away.
    As the birds freckled the face of the horizon, Alyce pictured the robins that would fly into the windows of skyscrapers, or become caught in the fuselages of airplanes, or simply run out of energy and fall, unable to fly on.
    â€œJake is going to be sleepy and cranky at school.” Harry began to tie the laces of his boots. “We probably shouldn’t wake them up for every little thing.”
    â€œIt was cool, though. Right, guys?”
    â€œPretty cool,” said Jake, now nonchalant.
    â€œYou have a very cool mother,” Harry told them, but his voice was strained. He turned to Alyce. “You could have woken me up, you know.”
    Alyce lay on the grass and looked at the sky and, from this perspective, Harry appeared as a scarecrow, awkward sticks dressed up to create the illusion of human menace.
    Harry sighed. “Don’t forget. Someone’s coming to drop off the tent and chairs this morning,” he said. They were hosting Flannery’s welcome-home party next week—Harry had badgered Alyce into offering up the ranch.
    Alyce closed her eyes. “And there are still boxes to unpack. Food to buy. Dishes to wash.” Breaths to breathe , she thought. “Have you noticed how we buy food and then eat it, and then have to buy more?”
    Harry didn’t respond. Alyce opened her eyes and saw the corners of his mouth turned down, the folds in his forehead, the subtle droop of his tired eyelids. For a moment, she wanted to reach out and hug him, but the feeling passed before she could own it.
    A scream of delight drew her attention. Alyce sat up. Jake was standing in the yard throwing a horseshoe dangerously close to his brother’s head.
    â€œPut those fucking things down,” she hissed, and then clasped a hand to her mouth to catch the vitriol before it escaped. Too late.
    â€œFlapjack time,” said Harry, and with that, the boys dropped everything and lined up to follow him inside, the Pied Piper of Pancakes. His walking stick leaned against the porch swing, forgotten.
    Alyce stayed on the ground for a moment, looking out at the trees and sky, wondering if a few of the robins were watching through the brambled cross-stitch of brush, and like her, waiting anxiously for the cover of night.

FLANNERY
    F lannery, jet-lagged and half delirious, slumped into her sister Molly’s car outside the airport in Austin. They drove past the overturned bowl of pink limestone that was the state capitol building and stopped for lunch at a place called Quack’s.
    The long narrow bakery echoed with the clanging of silverware and the clicking of computer keyboards; brightly painted wooden tables were shoved close together; dogs, tied to the railing outside, barked as each new person flung open the door, uppercuts of air-conditioning hitting them in the face. The sisters ordered at the counter, then staked out a spot in the corner flush against a bookshelf full of board games. “I hardly slept last night,” said Molly. “You’re finally here.” Her sister was two years younger and six inches shorter than Flannery, with darker hair, bigger breasts.
    â€œI didn’t sleep, either,” said Flannery. “Dragging myself through Heathrow at three in the morning might have had something to do with that.” She interlaced her fingers with Molly’s and leaned forward.
    â€œI wouldn’t let Dad pick you up—wanted you to myself first,” Molly said, “but I did tell him that you and I would drive out to Abilene this weekend. Hope that’s okay. . . .” Flannery listened to the stream of words, letting them flow through her, feeling the warmth that bubbled up whenever she first saw her sister, before the bickering and confused feelings resurfaced. “He could come here, but he hates new Austin and