Made That Way by Susan Ketchen

wish I could figure out how Electra manages it. She bosses Photon who is bigger and older.
    Taylor skims up one aisle and down another, finding angels everywhere. Certainly she has much more choice than I had when I was looking for equestrian-themed supplies. In the house wares section she finds an angel coffee mug, angel candlestick holders, angel salt and pepper shakers. In the stationery section there’s a pack of dove grey computer paper with faint white feathers floating down the pages. I find a thin sleeve of angel stickers for her and at first Taylor says she’s outgrown that sort of thing but then she looks at me in that kindly spiritual way that drives me crazy because it makes me feel like I’m three years old. “Okay, for you, I’ll take them,” and she adds them to her stack of stuff. There’s a small clothing section in the back corner of the store. Taylor discovers a pink t-shirt with two white angels embossed on the front. There’s also a rack of scarves. She rubs the fabric between thumb and finger. “Do you think this is silk?”
    â€œNot at two for five dollars,” I tell her. I would be more supportive if I was feeling better.
    â€œI’m sure it’s silk,” says Taylor, flicking through the display. She pulls down a flimsy length of sky-blue covered with fluffy white clouds, and on each cloud is an angel playing a harp. “Can you believe this?” she says. “I can wrap it around my ecru lamp shade. It is so perfect!”
    â€œHay crew?” I say. She has reminded me that Kansas is stacking hay today, and she wouldn’t let me help her because she thought I wasn’t well enough and now here I am shopping with my cousin who, frankly, I can’t imagine owning a lampshade decorated with people stacking bales of hay.
    Taylor stares at me, blinking, then her eyebrows twitch up. “That’s ecru , Farmgirl. It’s a colour, kind of like eggshell if you really need the agricultural reference.”
    At the checkout she spies a tub of magic wands, hard plastic tubes filled with blue fluid and stars that flow back and forth when the wand is turned. “This is my lucky day!” says Taylor. “I’ve wanted one of these forever!” She places one firmly on top of her stack of merchandise. The cashier rings it up and stuffs everything into a large plastic bag.
    â€œDidn’t you bring a backpack?” I ask as we leave the store. “How are you going to carry all that?”
    â€œEasy,” says Taylor, slipping an arm through the handle holes. “Watch me.”
    Of course I can’t watch—I have to keep my eye on the road. I take my seat on the bike and feel Taylor climb on behind me. Taylor’s hands return to my shoulders and the shopping bag lies sandwiched between us. The magic wand sticks me in the armpit. Somehow we glide out of the parking lot onto the roadway.
    â€œWhere’s that stable you go to anyway?” says Taylor. “Why don’t we drop by and you can show me this new horse of yours?”
    â€œIt’s too far,” I say, pedaling as hard as I can up a hill. We must have coasted on the way to the store. I hadn’t really noticed, because it was easy. In this direction it’s uphill and Taylor’s hands tug at me. I can feel what must be the candlesticks digging into my spine.
    â€œGo on, we can do it, I’ll flap my angel wings!” says Taylor and one of Taylor’s hands lets go and the plastic bag is pulled free. It crackles in the wind and the bike wobbles.
    â€œDon’t do that!” I tell her.
    Taylor laughs and does it again and then puts her hand back on my shoulder and the bag returns against my back where it rustles every time Taylor shifts her weight.
    â€œTake me or I’ll use my magic wand to put a spell on you!” says Taylor, which is totally unfair. Taylor has frightened me before with her spiritual interests in