Into This River I Drown by TJ Klune

right,” Mary says thoughtfully. “He probably wouldn’t know what to do with him-her.”
    I groan and lay my head down on my arms. “Please, just shoot me now.”
    The Trio laughs.
    Mom rubs her hand over the back of my head. “Girls, you’re embarrassing him. You know Benji’s a bit of a prude.”
    “A bit?” Mary snorts. “He’s the biggest prude we know.”
    “I am not a prude,” I snap at them, still hiding my face, knowing I’m blushing.
    “How come your neck is turning red?” Nina asks. “Are you hot?”
    “What about Carl!” Mary says excitedly. “He’s strapping and available and only one town over.”
    “We tried that already, remember?” Christie asks. “It turned out he was into some very kinky things.”
    Understatement. Over dinner, Carl told me that he was into fisting and wanted me to wear his arm and be his puppet.
    “A prude,” my mother says lovingly. “You are taking the day off today. One of us can take the store today.”
    I shake my head as I yawn. “I can’t. I’ve got two oil changes and Abe is convinced that there’s a rattling sound under the hood of the Honda, even though there never is. Today is busy.”
    My mom sighs. “Then tomorrow.”
    “I’ve got—”
    “Benji,” all four women scold at once.
    I throw my hands up in the air. “Fine. Tomorrow.”
    Mom grins at me as she takes my cup from my hand and pours the coffee into a travel mug. All four women then stand in a line and I kiss their cheeks, the Trio telling me not to worry, that they will find a homosexual or two, even if they have to think on it all day.
    I shake my head as my mom hands me my mug and motions for me to turn around. I do, and she lifts my backpack up and sets it on my back. They treat me like I’m twelve, but I like to think it’s more for their benefit than mine. Mom’s fussing with the zipper on the back of my bag when alarms start ringing in my head. I’m about to turn when she opens the bag to see what the zipper is caught on.
    A feather falls to the floor.
    I bend to scoop it up, but Mary beats me to it. “Where in the crap did you find this?” she asks, holding it close to her face.
    Christie plucks it from her fingers. “This has got to be the biggest bird ever .”
    My mother grabs it. “Benji, where did this come from?”
    I make a move to take it back, but she holds it away from me. “Near Little House,” I say defensively. “I just like it, okay? Give it back.” I can’t tell them the thought of anyone other than me touching the feather makes me want to snarl and lash out. I can’t tell them I spent the remainder of last night sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, my knees curled up against my chest, watching the feather as it lay on my bed. I can’t tell them where it came from, but somehow I know it is mine , that it is for me .
    “Can I see it?” Nina asks quietly.
    My mother looks to me. I shrug, every fiber of my being screaming for me to take it back, that no one else should touch it, but I don’t want to be forced to explain these ridiculous feelings, seeing as how I don’t understand them myself.
    Not so ridiculous, I tell myself. It’s mine. It’s mine because it came from my dre—
    She hands it over to Nina, who moans softly as it touches her fingers. “It’s so pretty,” she whispers. “And so, so blue.” Her eyes flick to mine at this last. I look away. “Did you see him?” she asks me.
    I close my eyes.
    “See who?” Christie asks, baffled.
    “The bird?” Mary asks, confused.
    “It must have been huge,” my mom said.
    I open my eyes. All are watching me. But it’s Nina I look at. “No,” I say. “I didn’t see him.”
    She nods as if she’s received the answer she expected. She watches me for a moment longer before handing the feather back to me. There’s a burst of heat as it touches my fingers, and I know she can feel it too when her eyes widen, when a coy smile dawns on her face. “It’s blue ,” she says