The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3

by Tiffany King

  My mom stopped at one of the vendors to buy me my promised chocolate in the form of an ice cream. Just the smell of it made my mouth water. My mom laughed when she saw the look on my face. I returned the smile sheepishly. What could I say? Chocolate talked to my soul.

  I finished my cone before I finally headed toward the stairs I had spotted earlier that lead down to the sand. I was filled with anticipation as we walked down the sandy concrete steps.

  We paused at the bottom stair to remove our shoes.

  I sighed in contentment as my feet touched the sand. I had been to beaches before, but never on the west coast. I knew I was crazy to think so, but to me the sand just felt better here. I loved how nice and cool it was as I dug my toes into it. Maybe I felt this way because I thought it might be our beach, the one from my dreams, but I couldn’t help feeling like I belonged here.

  My mom settled on the sand while I walked toward the ocean, pretending to look for shells. The breeze from the ocean pulled at the edge of my shirt as I approached the water. Shivering slightly in the cool sea breeze, I crossed my arms to hold my shirt in place and dipped my toes in the ice-cold water. The anticipation made me feel like I was going to burst, but I looked out at the endless sea for a few minutes as I worked up the nerve to turn around and see if it was the same amusement park from my dreams. I wasn’t sure I could handle the disappointment if I was wrong.

  Finally with no further apprehension, I slowly turned and felt my breath leave me in one big gasp.

  I was standing on a spot that I had stood on hundreds of times. There was no denying that this was indeed the Boardwalk that I had seen so many times in my dreams. I looked around quickly, as if expecting to see him, and then shook my head at how ridiculous it would be if I did. Of course he was not here, he didn’t even exist.

  I must have seen a picture of the Boardwalk when I was younger and unconsciously added it into my dreams. I could find no other explanation that would justify why I had dreams about some place where I had never been.

  I tried to contemplate what this could mean. Was I crazy or could this be real, and if it was real, did that mean he might actually exist somewhere? I didn’t know what to think at this point. I had come here today hoping to get some answers; but ironically, I was more confused than ever.

  Chapter 2

  “Krista,” my mom called up the stairs the next morning. “Are you ready for school?”

  I glanced one last time in the mirror over my dresser, and cringed at the faint smudge lines under my eyes. So much for cover up, I thought ruefully. Last night had been another bad night. I decided to limit my make-up, knowing that to add blush to a face that turned red from embarrassment so easily would only make me resemble a clown in a circus. The only thing I added liberally was my foundation, which I hoped would cover up the smudges. I finished with a touch of eyeliner to bring out the color of my eyes, and finally my favorite cherry lip gloss from Bath and Body Works.

  I had to admit that except for the dark marks, I actually looked halfway decent. The school uniform fit me nicely. The pleats in the skirt swished out with every step; the crisp white shirt was tucked pertly into my skirt, and the navy blue cardigan was knotted across my shoulders. My hair was thrown back in the customary ponytail I preferred to wear; since it aggravated me when my hair fell in my eyes while reading. To make the ponytail more appealing, I clipped a navy blue hair clip at its base.

  “Well that’s as good as it’s going to get, Feline,” I said, patting his head on my way out the door.

  He sunk even deeper into my quilt, making me smile. At the end of the day, he would be there in the same spot. Sure, he would use the cat box and eat his food in the kitchen, but somehow he sensed when I would be arriving home, and he always waited for me in the same place.

  I made my way down the staircase, pausing to take a deep breath and making sure I had a smile firmly on my face. My mom didn’t need to worry, especially since we had just gotten our lives on a somewhat normal path. There was no need to ruin it.

  “Hi mom,” I said, kissing her on the cheek on the way to the refrigerator.

  “Don’t you look cute and sassy in your new school uniform?”

  “Do you like?” I asked, twirling around, giving her the full effect of the pleated skirt.

  “It looks very flattering on you honey, I’m so glad you finally get to go to a school where you feel comfortable.”

  “Me too, I just want to blend in with all the other smart kids in the school. Hopefully the teachers will be too busy with them to worry about me,” I said grabbing the six-pack of chocolate cupcakes out of the refrigerator.

  “Honey, I know you think you’re going to blend in, but I hate to break it to you, you’re special. Even these teachers are going to realize it.”

  “You’re just biased. You have to think I’m special. You’re my mom. It’s written in the parent’s handbook.”

  She raised her eyebrows as if to say, are you kidding me? She let it slide though, and instead focused on my face.

  Crap. I hastily looked down and concentrated on taking the paper off my cupcake. My morning eating habits had been a battle for many years, but my parents and I had finally reached a truce when I had agreed to eat a healthy breakfast every other day. I won the arguments when I pointed out that cupcakes or chocolate brownies were the same as eating doughnuts or a sugary cereal for breakfast. Tomorrow I would have to choke down a whole grain bagel, but today I could enjoy my wonderful chocolate cupcake.

  “He left again last night?” She asked.

  I could tell by her worrisome tone that my ploy had not worked.

  I mentally kicked myself for telling my mom about the new twist my dreams had taken. As long as the dreams made me happy, she was okay with me having them, but if they started making me sad, she’d bring up the topic of taking me to a sleep clinic to try to put a stop to them.

  When my dad was alive, he had broached the subject of taking me to a clinic many times, but mom always intervened on my behalf. Of course if my mom knew how often I dreamed about him, she probably would have felt differently. As far as she knew, I only dreamt about him occasionally. My dad had serious issues when he found out that the boy in my dreams was aging with me. He was okay with it when I was young, but he didn’t like the idea of me dreaming about some teenage boy.

  “Mom, I’m fine,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “It’s my job to worry about you. I don’t like the idea of you getting so upset while you are sleeping,” she glared at me. “And even though you try to cover it, I know that it’s following you throughout your day. You’re just getting over your dad; I hate to see you upset all over again.”

  “Mom, trust me, I’m fine. Come on, we need to get a move on or I’m going to be late for the first day of school.”

  By the look on her face, I knew the subject wasn’t closed. Next time, I would have to do a better job at covering up the signs of my dreams.

  We arrived at my new school with ten minutes to spare. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. I have my schedule, and I’ve studied the school map enough that I shouldn’t get lost.” At least that’s what I was hoping anyway.

  “Try to make friends honey, okay?”

  “Mom, you know I’m not good at that. People just don’t like me.”

  “That’s not true. People are just put off by the way you study them. Sometimes you look like your searching for something in them.”

  She was right of course; I was always sizing everyone up, searching for the same kind of connection with others that I shared with the unknown boy in my dreams.

  “Look mom, I’ll try, okay? It’s just hard for me to meet new people.”

  “I know honey. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I’ll try,” I said again, getting out of the car.

  I closed the car door behind me and looked at my new school. I couldn’t help feeling a little awed at the bea
uty of the campus. The brochures didn’t lie, it was a beautiful school. The building itself was two sprawling stories that was as big as the mall back home. The most appealing feature of the building was the wide staircase leading up to the large imposing front doors that were made from honey colored oak. Windows that sparkled in the bright sunlight lined the exterior of the building and were placed every six feet or so. Each window was adorned with a different brick inlay pattern over it. Ivy ran up the sides of the structure in abundance and made the school look more like an Ivy League college than a private high school.

  It was definitely more prestigious looking than my previous high school. I couldn’t help feeling intimidated just looking at it; I now knew why the tuition was so high. The grounds themselves probably cost more to maintain than my old school spent for all their teachers salaries put together. I had once gone golfing with my dad and even that grass couldn’t compare to what surrounded this school. The grass was plentiful and was only broken up by the big oak trees that provided shade over the many picnic tables that littered the grounds. Beautiful flowers flanked the sidewalk leading up to the building, and ran along the border of the building. The overall affect was quite pretty, and I couldn’t help being impressed.

  Glancing at my wrist watch, I saw that I still had eight minutes until the bell rang. I looked around for a place to sit while I waited. All the picnic tables were occupied by students catching up on what they had done during spring break. By the sounds of it, most had enjoyed a killer party at some guy’s house. Others had obviously spent their time partying at the beach during spring break, since many of the girls were showing off their new tan lines.

  I mentally shook my head as I settled under one of the big oak trees. It didn’t matter if they were smarter, teenagers are the same everywhere. I didn’t know why I felt so out of touch with other kids my age. Maybe my mom was right, maybe I should try to make more of an effort to get to know people better. Maybe the connection I had been searching for all these years just didn’t exist.

  I studied a group of guys messing around with a Frisbee. They all looked so carefree and happy. Had I ever been that carefree? I couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t thinking about him with some part of my brain. Could someone be carefree when they were always consumed with a hunger for something else?

  A shadow fell across me. Looking up in surprise, I saw a very pretty girl looking down at me with interest.

  “Aren’t you afraid that you’re going to get a grass stain on your skirt?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked surprised. I wasn’t used to someone talking to me; most times people treated me like a leaper.

  “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get a grass stain on your skirt?” the girl repeated.

  “No, if I do, I’m sure it will wash.”

  The girl’s face widened into a big smile. I felt my mouth spread into a matching smile.

  “I knew you were my kind of girl when I saw you plop down without a care of your clothes. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone sit on the grass since I started here six months ago.” She said, still smiling.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Sam.”

  “I’m Krista,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. I gasped in surprise when I felt a small shock like one of those hand buzzers you might get from a joke store, except, Sam was holding nothing. It filled me with a warm feeling like I had been dunked in a steaming bathtub. It gave me a feeling of odd completeness.

  “Did you feel that?” I asked in a shocked voice. “What was that?”

  “That was strange,” Sam replied, not looking quite as surprised as I felt. Instead she studied me with interest.

  I felt a little flustered. It felt like déjà vu, or like we had met somewhere before, but that was impossible. The warmth from our handshake was still strong and I looked at my hand in amazement. Who was this girl?

  Sam continued to study me with interest as I tried to make sense of what was going on.

  Only mere seconds had passed, but I had the uncanny feeling that this girl and I were lifelong friends. I should feel foolish, but for some reason, I didn’t.

  Finally, Sam broke the silence. “My real name is Samantha, but I changed it to Sam. It fits me better, don’t you think?”

  It was like she opened a flood gate. Before I knew it, we were chatting away like we had known each other for years.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Sam asked after a few moments.

  “I know, I can’t believe it,” I said, still a little flustered.

  “They’re so funny how all they do is talk about some party, or whether their tan line is even,” Sam said, echoing my thoughts from earlier.

  “Huh?” What a dope I was, here I was thinking she was talking about our ease with each other. She was so easygoing; she probably had no idea the inner turmoil I was going through as I tried to figure out why I was so comfortable around her. Here I was trying to make heads or tails out of why I had felt a surge of electricity shoot through me when we had shaken hands, and she could care less. She was probably this friendly with everyone and considered herself the welcoming committee. I felt my flush begin to deepen and looked down at the grass, mortified.

  “I feel like I have nothing in common with any of them,” Sam said.

  I looked up surprised. Sam was studying the group with the Frisbee much the same way I had just done a few minutes ago. I laughed in relief.

  “I can relate. I always feel that way in school, more like an observer, than a participant…”

  I was interrupted when I noticed that Sam and I had become the topic of conversation for a group of guys walking by.

  “Who’s that sitting next to fridge,” I heard one of them ask.

  “I don’t know, some new chick I guess, why, do you think you can score with her?” his friend asked.

  Neither seemed to care that Sam and I could hear them. They stood there eyeing me like I was a steak or something.

  I could feel a familiar wave of embarrassment approaching and tried to fight it back, but quickly realized it was too late. I knew that I needed to get out of there before Sam saw me get sick. The last thing I wanted was to puke in front of my new friend like a freak.

  I scrambled to my feet. “I’ve got to go.”

  Dusting the grass abruptly off the seat of my skirt, I spared one last glance at Sam before darting off. I felt a twinge of guilt by the hurt look on her face.

  The first bell rang as I rushed frantically through the halls searching for a restroom. Students jostled me on every side as they rushed off to their classes. It took me a few minutes to realize I had no idea where the nearest bathroom was.

  What an idiot, I had neglected to look for bathrooms when studying the school map. Stepping out of the flow of traffic, I leaned against the wall trying to get my bearings back. I was hoping to avoid an episode like this on my first day at my new school. The sweat was beading quickly on my forehead, and I felt a burning sensation rising up into my throat. I tried to calm down quickly before I made a spectacle of myself.

  I clamped my eyes shut, knowing from past experience this would help speed the process along. It was best to let the waves run their course and hopefully I wouldn’t throw up. As soon as I could move again, I would find a drinking fountain and sneak some Advil. I didn’t know what the school’s policy was about taking over the counter medication. At my old school, you had to have a doctor’s note on file in the school clinic in order to take Advil. I opted out of bringing one in for the new school figuring I would only be here for a few months. I figured if I had an attack, I could sneak some. Of course, I neglected to put any in my backpack that I had checked and rechecked the day before. I was a dope.

  The waves finally slowed their attack on me and I felt like I was regaining control.

  My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a water bottle being pressed into my left hand, and two pills being pushed into my right.

  “Close your hand around the pills, they don’t like you to take
medicine without a note,” Sam murmured in my ear.

  I palmed the pills while I took a shaky drink of water. As the water flowed down my throat, some of the sickness from the emotional wave began to leave me. After a second drink, I was ready to swallow the pills. I knew real relief was about an hour away, but felt I might be able to make it to a bathroom. Making it to homeroom on time no longer seemed feasible, but looking like I might puke was not the first impression I wanted to make in my new school, anyway.

  Sam took the water bottle from me as she grabbed onto my elbow and began to steer me down the hallway. When the fogginess in my head finally began to clear, I opened my eyes, but could only make out the shapes of the people we passed. My eyesight would return to normal in a few moments once the Advil began its work on my damaged nerves.

  I was more than a little confused that Sam had known how desperately I needed the water and Advil. It was if she knew exactly what I was going through, which was ridiculous.

  “Can I help you girls?” asked a kind elderly voice.

  My eyes were finally fully focused and I saw that Sam had led me to the school clinic.

  “Yeah, this is her first day, and I think nerves are making her sick,” Sam replied.

  “Oh! You poor dear. Follow me. I know how tough it is in a new school. Come lay down on a cot in the back.”

  “Can I come with her?” Sam asked. “I thought I could walk her to class when she’s feeling better.”

  “That sounds fine dear. Just let me know if you need anything,” she said as she patted me on the back on her way out.

  I sat on the edge of the cot in the room which resembled a daybed more than a cot. In my old school, the cots were made of canvas and metal and smelled like the outdoors, and not in a good way.

  Glancing around the room, I could see more benefits of going to a private school. Instead of the industrial steel gray color walls that made up the clinic of my old school, the walls in this room were painted a warm honey yellow. The color had an instant soothing feeling that started to ease my frazzled nerves. The yellow walls were broken up by white chair rails that ran the length of the walls. Above the chair rails were a series of appealing paintings. Each painting had the same exotic looking tree. At first glance they all looked the same, but when you studied them more closely, you could pick out subtle differences to distinguish between each one.