The Guardian

by Carol Robi

  It takes us about twenty minutes to drive to the school. It is a small school, a single two storey building on the edge of a small town, slightly larger than Lejtoft, my grandparents' town.

  When grandpa stops the car and walks out of his door, I follow him reluctantly. I feel some of the kids' quick glances before they turn away, and I am immediately grateful for the reserved nature of the Scandinavians. Any other small town, I would have been stared at and ridiculed as the weird kid that needed her grandparents to drag her to school.

  The school is small, probably about fifty to seventy students in total. Grandfather walks right ahead towards the offices without asking his way about. He had probably gone to school here too, back in time, before the gymnasium specialized only in creative arts.

  Dad might have gone here too, for the Christiansens have always lived in this area. The thought of myself living my whole life in this small town area is depressing. Grandpa is happy with it, but I know I am different. My parents’ addiction for adventure is buried deep in my DNA too. The minute I get the chance, I will get away from here as fast as I can.

  The principal is helpful and kind, speaking slowly enough for me to understand her, and calling a student to show me to my class. I want to protest that I am not to start today, but she does not give me the chance. On his way out, grandfather smiles triumphantly, handing me a 50 kroner to buy lunch with and the bus ticket home. I thank him and follow the quiet plump girl to class.

  The teachers go out of their way to speak slowly, for me to understand them. I have a hard time keeping up eye contact with them. For some reason or other, Danes like to talk to someone while looking at them straight in their eyes, all the time. It is hard enough keeping eye contact with my family at home, and those I know. Maintaining eye contact with strangers all day, however, can be quite strenuous.

  I suspect that the rest of the students must be put out a lot, at having to listen to their teachers talk slowly for my benefit, and keep asking me if I understood a word or the other. I keep nodding in agreement just to keep them off my case.

  Some of the kids talk to me over the breaks, in not too shabby English either. I now realize that I’d probably overreacted in my attempts at avoiding school, and my irrational mindset that I would not fit in.

  "Where do you live?" A lanky blonde boy asks over lunch at the canteen. I have managed to get a small carton of yoghurt and an apple for myself.

  "Lejtoft," I say, and they all begin laughing at me.

  "What?" I ask puzzled.

  "You pronounce it terribly!" A tall skinny brunette to my side says, her beautiful green eyes twinkling merrily. Her name is Anne-Marie, and I like her best in the school. She is majoring in drama and theatre, but we have many of our basic classes together.

  "Magnus lives there too," she says, pointing at the blonde guy that had asked the question.

  "Cool! We could catch the bus together until you learn to find your way," he proposes kindly.

  "I think I have a higher chance of dying of boredom in the buses than losing my way," I say, considering the fact that I come from one of the world's largest cities and I knew its public transport system like the back of my hand.

  "So I'd rather we take the bus together just so I can have your company," I say to him laughing, and the others laugh lightly too.

  "Deal," Magnus says cheerfully. I smile up at him, glad to have gained a friend.

  "Umh...” I start up when I think of something. "Does any of you know a town... No a village actually, or even smaller," I am interrupted by my own giggles as I try to find the right word for it, but shake my head giving up. "A place called Rø?"

  "What?" Anne-Marie, the pretty brunette asks.

  "Rø?" I say again, but they all look back at me in confusion.

  When it becomes clear to me that I am most probably pronouncing it wrong, I take out my phone and type Rø in my messages, and show them the word.

  "Oh! Rø!" Charlotte, Anne-Marie's best friend with the amazingly long, rich blond hair speaks out. "I know it. A bunch of five or so houses on the way to Rundskov Park. I always biked past it with my sister when we still lived in Sejtrup and often spent our afternoons in summer at the park."

  "So Rundskov Park is right by Rø?"

  "Yeah it is. A five minutes’ bike ride away. Why?"

  "Umh... We are probably moving to Rø," I say reluctantly. Charlotte chokes on her yoghurt right then, and has to cough a little. Mikkel, a tall boy that plays football with Magnus, mockingly taps her between her shoulder blades.

  "How bad is the town?" Mikkel asks, swiping his beautiful brown hair back from his forehead and arching his eyebrows. He is a handsome boy with the typical boy-next-door looks that many American girls would go wild for. I cannot help smiling up into his deep blue eyes dreamily.

  "It's bad!" I say laughing to the faces before me.

  "Really bad," Charlotte adds, shaking her head, folding her face in mock sorrow.

  "I have never seen anything worse. There are five houses, and I did not see any living person in them. We might be its only occupants." I say, laughing out my frustration.

  "Big change, from having lived all your life in a city with over 8 million people, huh!" Anne-Maria puts in, laughing at the irony of it all.

  We spend the lunch break in that fashion of light conversation and good humor. It isn't nearly as bad as I had feared. I am making good friends with great humor, and who do not mind speaking English with me. Maybe school is exactly what I need, to find my niche here in ‘good old Denmark’. Who would have thought?

  "What are you planning on doing now?" Anne-Marie asks later in the day, after the last class, as we walk together out of the school building.

  "Catch a bus and head home?" I say doubtfully while cringing my nose, for her question had sounded as though she had a better idea.

  "Or I could walk you around my hometown and you could catch a later bus," she says.

  "I'd love that A.M." I had given her the nickname over lunch, her first names' initials, because Anne-Marie just sounds too long and impersonal in my mouth.

  "Great!" She says, slinging her military green fjällräven bag over her shoulders.

  "I’d like to check the bus schedule first," I tell her, as I drag her by the hand towards the bus stop where a large number of students have gathered again.

  I almost don't see it, the quick movement that would be invisible to any other bystander. I have seen that kind of fast movement before, outside the 18th century house in Rø. My brain is now tuned to notice such incidences even when I am not paying attention, while I know others would not have seen it.

  Are they following me? How did they know I'd be here? Are they both here, or just one? I must have been too much involved in my thoughts for I shake out of it only to see A.M. staring back at me.

  "Sorry I spaced out," I smile at her, shaking my head. "What is it you were saying again?" My head is still corked to my left, looking for any further movements from there.

  "I asked if you would like to come home with me for a while, after our little tour of the town center. We live by the main street."

  "Sure, I'd love that. But I need to call my dad and let him know that I'll be staying here a little longer...”

  "Hey girls, see you tomorrow!" Magnus shouts out as he runs past us, Mikkel right at his feet waving to us.

  "What are they up to?" I ask turning away from them.

  "Oh, they must be running late for football practice," she answers me with a shrug. When she says football, I have to remind myself that this is Europe, so she actually means soccer.

  We spend the afternoon walking through the small main street, looking into all the shops. It is a small street, probably not much longer than five hundred meters. It is however breathtakingly picturesque; the timeless cobblestone cladding the walking street, the old buildings of Scandinavian neo-classical architecture and the large square in front of a sizeable gothic church, spotted by teenagers and young kids sitting on t
he city furniture, just hanging out with their friends.

  "Do you want some ice cream from Paradis Is? It is the best ice cream in the whole world," she says cheerfully. I highly doubt that it is, for she has never travelled out of the country. I do not point that out though.

  "No, I don't think I should. I have about...” I trail off rummaging for the coins in my pocket and count them, "32 and a half kroners left, and I don't know how much a bus ticket costs."

  "Oh no worries, on me. And I think the ticket will cost 25 kroner, though I'm not too sure."

  "Thanks, but no thanks. But you can just grab yourself some ice cream, if you want." I say.

  "No, no it's alright. We can just grab a healthy snack at my home. My parents are obsessed with healthy living by the way." We walk together through the portal of one of the beautiful old buildings by the cobbled main street.

  "Be sure to ask your father for enough money to buy a monthly ticket though. It is cheaper, and at least then you won't have to worry everyday about bus money," she points out helpfully.

  "Thanks, I'll be sure to do that." I smile up at her, for she is about 3-4 inches taller than I am.

  The apartment A.M. lives in with her parents and younger brother is beautiful, completely renovated and has a strict minimalistic interior. Striped grey carpet flooring, blank white walls interrupted by family picture frames and dark furniture. We both sit down at the kitchen table and nibble the homemade whole wheat cookies in a large tin jar as she entertains me with stories about her family, school life and her dance club.

  "I better head back,” I say. “The next bus is in fifteen minutes."

  "Ok," she says getting up, dusting the cookie crumbs off the table into her palms, and swiping them together over the kitchen sink. "I'll just grab a jumper and we can leave."

  "So," I begin as she locks the door behind her. "Do you have a boyfriend?" She laughs lightly before answering.

  "No, not really. But I have hooked up a number of times with Mikkel."

  "Really? Mikkel in our class? He is hot!" I exclaim giggling.

  "Yes he is," she answers, chuckling giddily too. "But we aren't anything, I mean, I'm not sure if there is something."

  "Haven't you guys talked about it?"

  "No, we haven't," she answers quietly.

  "How could that be?"

  "Well, we just never talk about it. At least I know he doesn't want to talk about it, and I don't want to push him."

  "Do you like him?" I ask her, just catching her slight nod from my sideways glance. "Then talk to him. Maybe he likes you too."

  "Or maybe he doesn't, and only wants casual sex with me." I choke at her words.

  "Did you... Have you two... Have you had sex with him?" I ask almost disbelievingly.

  "Yeah, I told you we have hooked up a number of times," she chuckles at me. My face burns at my naivety.

  "I guess I must have assumed you just meant making out." She laughs at my presumptions.

  "I'm a virgin," I admit, and she looks at me in open disbelief. "I actually have never even been kissed." This must have been too much for her to bear.

  "What?" She asks in utmost disbelief, stopping mid step.

  "Yeah, it's true," I confirm, kicking at a small stone to the side before I start walking again. "Please don't tell it to anyone, It is my deepest secret."

  "Of course, my lips are sealed," she says, drawing closed an imaginary zipper along her lips. I laugh shyly at her.

  "But this weekend, at the Friday party, you are getting kissed," she says with a determined look on her face. In the single day I have known her, I know that look. I am definitely getting kissed this Friday, and the thought gives me a thrill.

  "There is a party this Friday?" I ask.

  "There is almost always a party on Fridays after school."

  "Oh, where?"

  "In the main auditorium in school."

  "Really? We are allowed to hold parties every Friday in school? This is so cool!"

  "Yeah, the entertainment committee, of which yours truly is a member, is in charge of organising and hosting the parties."

  "Wow, high schooling in Denmark is surprisingly much cooler than I thought."

  "And, we have alcohol!" She adds excitedly.

  "Really?" I laugh out loud. "How do you sneak it in? Aren't there teachers or parents to chaperone the parties?"

  "Little innocent Caroline from the great apple, you are so young and naive," she says in a mock condescending tone. "You do know that there is no drinking age limit in Denmark, right? I mean, we cannot buy beer or wine until we are sixteen, but we may drink from whatever age we want!"

  "Oh, I read that somewhere, but I didn't think much about it. Wow! I have to say, I am experiencing some form of culture shock right now." We both burst into a fit of girly laughter, having arrived at the bus stop.

  I stop in place, shocked, when I notice my two angelic princes standing by the bus stop.

  Chapter 9

  They stand calmly next to an elderly woman, looking very human indeed. I must have been overly engulfed in our girly banter, not to have noticed the unusual warmth in the air that precedes their presence. They are both dressed in casual summer shorts and light t-shirts, with sunglasses propped on their noses. Their wings are nowhere to be seen, and neither are their swords.

  I then notice that there’s no grey haze around them, which lets me know that they are now visible to all.

  I immediately pull my gaze away from them and turn my attention back to my new friend, who is actually eyeballing them from the corners of her eyes, a cheeky smile playing at her lips. I do not blame her, they are both very good looking indeed. But what do they want now?

  I see the bus rounding the corner just ahead, before I can have more time to come up with a plan on what to do.

  "Thank you so much for today. I really had an awesome first day at school," I say to her, as I pull her into a tight hug.

  "Selv tak," she says in Danish, an expression that roughly means you are welcomed. "You saved my life from eternal boredom here." she whispers against my thick curls, squeezing me back. Her words warm my heart, and I know right then that I could belong here, despite my earlier fears.

  "See you tomorrow," I call out as I follow the older woman into the bus.

  I hear the two princes' footsteps follow behind me, as I buy my ticket. I fight every nerve in my body screaming at me to turn, and I instead walk stiffly to the back of the bus. When I sit down, I keep my gaze to the floor. I can feel them walking over to me, though, the warmth they radiate increasing with every step they take towards me.

  Please leave me alone, I think to myself over and over again. The man upstairs must not be listening to me, or probably doesn't exist, because Sun-prince and Viking-prince sit on the seats in front of mine.

  Just as the bus begins to pull away, they simultaneously turn to face me. I keep staring at my feet even then, still trying to ignore them.

  A hand then juts out in lightning speed and touches my face before I can think to move away. I jerk in surprise, but I am unable to turn away because of the strength in those fingers. The hand forces my chin up to face them.

  "What do you want?" I ask apprehensively, choosing to look into the comforting brown eyes, rather than the other harsher colder pair.

  "Grant us the gift of tongues," he answers me quietly in his foreign language.

  "The what?"

  "The gift of tongues. We want to understand man when spoken to."

  "You want me to teach you English? You already understand me, because I am speaking it now and you seem to be understanding me very well. And if it is Danish you want to learn, I would be a terrible teacher, because I am not very good at it...” I ramble on nervously.

  He/it waits patiently for my rambling to end, and only starts speaking again when he/it realizes that I am done.

  "We only understand it when we touch you. That is how you made it...”

  “I made no such thing...”


  “Yes you did. Now we need you to...”

  “Please believe me when I say, I made no such thing. I am just a seventeen year old...”

  “We know what you are!” My whole body freezes in fear at the sound of the blue-eyed’s words, who then speaks up instead of the Sun-prince, delivered in the most threatening voice of dripping ice.

  “Now listen, guardian. We need you to revise the conditions attached to this gift of tongues you granted us before. It is unacceptable. Grant us free usage of the gift, and with all languages on earth."

  “I... I don’t understand,” I whimper, desperately wanting to give them what they want, so that I can save my life, but having no idea how to do it. I am absolutely sure that they have mistaken my identity with somebody else, for I’m most definitely not a guardian.

  “You do not need to understand,” the Sun-prince now puts in with his warm smile and comforting eyes. I turn to look at him instead, for I feel safer with him.

  “Just... Think it. Exactly like you did before...” I chuckle. I actually chuckle at his words, interrupting him. I must have a death wish or something, but my frustration and tension need to be vented out one way or another.

  He continues looking at me patiently, though the Viking-prince beside him hardens his face and narrows his eyes at me. Him I choose to ignore.

  "So you are saying that I made it possible for you to understand me?" I ask in puzzlement. The Sun-prince nods with a smile.

  "Can I undo it?” I venture to ask. Somehow, my fear seems to be translating into brazened outbursts. “Because I don't like talking to you. I do not want you understanding me anymore," I venture to admit, my heart drumming in my chest. My question is met by a rich chuckle from the Sun-prince. Viking-stoneface-prince, however, maintains his neutral expression.

  "No, you cannot undo it. What you grant us, once granted, cannot be taken away."

  "How am I even granting you anything?" I cry out in frustration, trying to slap away his hand where it holds my chin firmly. His other hand however snakes out as fast as only they can move, and imprisons my two hands over my lap, his eyes never blinking away from mine.