by Carey Corp
“How did you know?”
A rigid muscle in his jaw ticks, his left eyebrow dips, and then with a forced exhale, his face is as smooth as a mask. “Know what?”
Slowly, I reach up to touch his cheek, but he subtly moves away, a nearly imperceptible shift. Although he’s averting his eyes, I see their haunted and distant quality.
“About me?”
When he pulls back to answer me, his beautiful eyes are flat, as if their light has been extinguished. “What about you, Alexia?”
My own eyes grow huge as I stare at him. With a steady sinking in the pit of my stomach, I repeat the question, carefully enunciating every word. “How did you know about me?”
Gabriel turns away. He can’t even look at me as he speaks. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” I scramble away from him, certain to my core he’s lying. But I have no clue what his motivation is for doing so. My voice is sharp and higher in pitch as I continue to accuse him. “Why are you lying to me?”
He stands—a quick jerky motion that makes me jump to my feet in response—and rakes his hand though his hair in frustration. “Why would I lie to you?”
The fact he still can’t face me speaks volumes. My trust—my faith –shatter into shards of rubble at my feet as I watch Gabriel close himself off. I can barely get enough air into my lungs to respond. “You tell me.”
In the following silence, anger floods through me mixing with the hurt of his betrayal until I can barely contain my fury. I can’t ever remember feeling anything close to the wrath that now consumes me. It propels me forward until I’m standing next to him with my hands fisted on my hips, my muscles taut and quivering with rage.
“What exactly happened, then, back at the music store?” My icy voice doesn’t reveal the inferno boiling inside me. I continue to glare at his back as he answers the rain.
“A guy came in—he seemed dangerous—like a criminal or something.”
“No!”
“I—I thought I recognized him from America’s Most Wanted.”
“No.”
“So I tried to get you out of there.”
“No.”
“But you freaked out.”
“No—”
“So I walked you home.”
“No...”
“It turns out it was nothing. I was completely mistaken.”
No…
Like a flash fire, my fury burns itself out, leaving Gabriel’s final words ringing aloof and hollow in my ears. He has been an increasingly important part of my life for these past two months, and now as I stand close enough to wrap my arms around him, an insurmountable chasm divides us.
I am bereft. The storm has ushered in a cold front and I hug myself against the chill.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Alexia.” He doesn’t look back.
I grieve, watching Gabriel duck his head and stride into the storm. As he walks away, his halo flickers, dimmer than usual, and I can’t help but wonder if it has nothing to do with the rain, and everything to do with what has just transpired between us.
CHAPTER 5
Whenever I’ve had one of those days, the song “Bad Day” gets stuck in my head—on a loop. Not the good version with the hot guy. No, I hear the Chipmunks—their high, screechy voices lamenting over lost magic.
There was a little kid in one of my foster families who was obsessed with them, especially their movie. I must’ve heard the chipmunk version of that song, like a million times before things got difficult and I had to move on.
What’s even worse than going to bed with the Chipmunks’ “Bad Day” on a loop, is when they’re still singing in the morning after I wake up. That’s how I know the day is really going to suck.
Well that, and the fact I’ve decided to leave—Gabriel, the Fosters, Midlands High. All of it.
Kate, Steven, Becke, Jonah, and Gabriel—they make me think about possibilities, a life that could never be mine. And while my heart’s pleading stay, my head’s screaming run!
Running is easier.
Now that I’ve made this decision, there’s a resigned, fatalistic quality to the morning as I go through the motions of getting ready for school. I can admit Gabriel’s changing me. Too much. Because of his brilliant halo, he must have a good reason for lying to me—maybe even a great one—but it doesn’t matter. The old Alex wouldn’t care enough to be upset. Unfortunately, I do… Care.
Every cell in my being wants to trust him—but I can’t.
Before I get outside I see Gabriel through the window panes in the front door, waiting. In the angles of heavy, cut glass, he appears abstract. Distorted. When I open the door he’s perfection again, but the disjointed impression remains.
His smile is cautious but warm as I breeze by him without as much as a glance. Falling easily in step beside me, he has enough sense not to touch me as we walk.
“So you’re not talking to me.” He’s resigned now too, recognizing his own culpability.
I hazard a glance at his stoic face and want to break, to confess my burning need to trust in him and beg him to tell me his secrets, but instead I bite my lip until I taste blood. As we walk our seven blocks in silence, I concentrate on fortifying my resolve to leave.
Like a robot, I move through my classes, letting Gabriel stand between me and the terrible darkness. Stubbornly he occupies my space, as if he’s entitled. When he leaves me at Government he says, “I’ll see you after class, Alex.” Like nothing is wrong.
At our usual lunch table, with Gabriel irritatingly at my side, I distract myself by listening to Becke make plans for our anti-homecoming/movie outing on Saturday. I’ll be gone by then, but I don’t ruin her enthusiasm by telling her so. Out of the corner of my eye I see Naomi doing unnatural things to a lollipop. She makes a blatant show of it. Like a vulture sensing a change in the pack, she picks up on Gabriel’s estrangement and is preparing to swoop in to devour him. I tell myself the sucker-sucking bitch can have him, but can’t work up enough anger to really mean it.
Still, it shouldn’t matter because after school I’m going to call my case worker and insist to be removed from my current placement. Maybe I’ll go back to The Children’s Center.
And maybe I’ll find Derry.
“So which ones sound good to you?”
Becke’s question catches me off guard and I rack my brain trying to remember what I’m supposed to have an opinion about… right, movies. Faking a smile, I reply, “Whichever one sounds best to you guys. Really, I’m easy.”
Gabriel makes a low snort of disagreement, but all he says is, “I’ll go along with whatever the group decides.”
“Jonah?” Becke looks at him and he colors. Then, clearing his throat, he asks her to go through the short list again. As she complies, I cast surreptitious glances at him. His halo is so ephemeral it’s nearly nonexistent. While this would be a character flaw in most, for a boy with tendencies toward the dark side, it’s a good thing. I observe him nodding attentively as Becke gives a brief synopsis of the new movies playing this weekend, and I wonder if she realizes she’s the reason for his unguarded smile.
I try not to think about what happens to them after I leave.
Unfortunately, my mind turns to darker things as we head to fifth period. The one thing I won’t miss is Mr. Creepy. Although he has lost some of his menace, his steely halo remains dark and inert, leaving an acrid taste on my tongue. I count the seconds until English is over and it’s time for gym.
Coach Mann has divided the class up by sex for the basketball rotation. Two half court games—boys at one end, girls at the other. I’m by no means a star athlete, but pounding a ball into the ground feels therapeutic. Playing with grave enthusiasm, I do my best not to notice the boys at the opposite end of the gym or the way Gabriel seems to be frowning at me every time my attention gets pulled in his direction.
I occupy myself by imagining a soundtrack in my head, something fast and angry. A big
F— you! to the world. Keeping time to my imagined music, I “accidentally” bounce a pass to Naomi hard enough to knock her down. Unfortunately, she doesn’t stay that way.
After class, she flounces up to Gabriel, reeking of insincerity and strawberry lip gloss. “Gabriel,” she drawls with a faux pout, “I think your girlfriend’s mad at you and taking it out on me.”
Before I can stop myself, I interject, “I’m not his girlfriend.”
Naomi’s brow lifts. Her lips curve slyly upwards as my denial registers with her. Crap! “Oh, really?” she purrs. Reaching out, she slides a manicured hand across Gabriel’s bicep and my stomach cramps, like she’s kicked me.
But I pretend everything’s fine.
Ignoring the cheerleader’s sticky advances, Gabriel continues to scowl at me in contradiction, saying nothing. He’s displeased—and maybe a little hurt—but then, so am I. Why does his reaction bother me so much, when I’m practically already gone?
As I turn away, walking toward the locker room with my head high, I bite my lower lip again until the physical discomfort and coppery taste of blood distract me from the other pain.
The seven blocks home are as quiet as the earlier trip. All day long, there has been a tightness in my chest, a shallowness to my breath, as if I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, or bawling. But I’m capable of neither. For me there’s no relief, just the sensation of being an over inflated balloon. Ever increasing pressure without release. Waiting to burst.
Trying to shut out Gabriel’s nearness, I mentally rehearse what I’m going to say to the case worker during my call. I practice putting the blame squarely on myself and not on the Fosters. I’m just not happy here. I hate this stupid school. If I can’t go back to The Children’s Center, I’m going to run away. Stuff like that. Stuff I’ve used before.
The thing I’m most sorry about, besides Gabriel, is disappointing Kate and Steven. But in time they’ll be able to replace me. They deserve a kid who appreciates what they have to offer. How great they are.
As we reach the pretty porch, I realize I’m holding my breath—literally.
Quietly exhaling, I dig for my key in my mess of a backpack. As I rummage and curse under my breath, a familiar spot on my back begins to sing with awareness. I feel Gabriel’s barely there touch as he asks, “How long are you going to give me the silent treatment, Alexia?”
How long are you going to lie to me, Gabriel?
His tingling heat radiates across my back in small, soothing circles as he says, “I can keep this up longer than you can.”
Wanna bet?
Grasping the elusive key, I unlock the front door. Unable to stand the feel of his hand on me, I pull away from the exquisite agony of his touch. But before I can go inside, my resolve crumbles and I whisper, “Goodbye.”
“So we’re talking now?”
Even though I’ve decided to leave, something in my heart leaps with hope. One last chance Gabriel will answer my questions with the truth and I can stay a little longer. “Sure. You can start by telling me why you lied yesterday?”
Watching his jaw stiffen, I know it’s over. We are over. All I want is to get safely inside before collapsing in on myself. Gabriel doesn’t look at me and when he speaks his voice is flat. “You’re not going to let this go. Are you?”
“Not today.”
“Then, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Alexia.”
No, you won’t…
Staring fixedly at the red door I sense, rather than see, him leave. Going inside to the privacy of my room, I curl into a little ball, letting great, swelling sobs crash over me like turbulent ocean waves during a storm. For a brief time I feel my loss—all I’ve been forced to become and everything I’ll never be—because of my curse.
And I mourn the loss of Gabriel, my protector and friend, the bright center of my life. My sun.
Sometime later when I’m out of tears, I take the card I have for emergencies and a cordless phone. I can’t make the call from inside the Fosters’ house—surrounded by their things, it feels too much like betrayal. So I go outside, to the cheerful back patio with the gas grill and matching wicker lawn furniture, to do what must be done.
Staring at the card, I feel like I’m on the ledge of a building, poised to jump—praying for someone to pull me back from the void—but nobody comes.
Numbly I dial, impassively noting the tremor in my hands. Someone answers after the third ring. “Hello?” I have to clear my throat before I can respond. “Yes, may I, please, talk to Mrs. Lopez?” My voice is small and brittle.
“Wait!”
Gabriel comes from the side of the house, his lean body moving in long, purposeful strides. As he closes the distant between us, his eyes swirl with emotion, his words urgent. “Please Alexia, don’t do this. Hang up the phone. I’ll tell you everything. Okay? No more lies. I promise! Just, please, hang up the phone!”
The voice on the other end of the line barely registers as I absently press the disconnect button. Gabriel stops before me—imploring and filling my senses. I’m so relieved he has come to stop me. And terrified, because I don’t know how to stay.
Taking the phone from my shaking hands, he sets it aside and leads me to a wooden bench just off the deck. After I sit, he settles beside me so that our knees touch, creating a tiny, warm connection. Around us, multicolored leaves rain down from the trees as the earth prepares for the harder season ahead. Although the fall has been mild, I know the bitter cold’s imminent. Suddenly I crave a safe harbor, the warmth of Gabriel’s presence to shelter me from the bleakness of winter.
Staring at Gabriel with dread-laced expectancy, I see the haunted look in his face noting twin points of agony in his beautiful blue eyes.
I wait.
He runs his hand through his sandy hair—something he does when he’s upset—and swallows. “I’m going to tell you everything. I promise. But you first.”
“What?” I feel the confusion puckering my brow.
“You have to tell me your secret, before I can tell you mine.”
I’m not resistant to this, but it makes no sense. “Gabriel, I think you already know my secret.”
“I need to hear you say it. Tell me out loud.”
“Why?”
His hands, sure and sweltering, grasp mine. His deep voice pleads, “Please, tell me everything. From the beginning, right up to now. Trust me, Alexia.”
And I do. Despite the hurt and the lies, I’ve never stopped trusting him. Not really.
“I see things, goodness and evil, in people.” He nods encouragingly but doesn’t interrupt. “The first time, I was maybe four or five. My mom had just died—she killed herself.” Still silent, he squeezes my hand in reassurance. “My father passed away when I was a baby, so when my mom died, I went to a place for kids without relatives. Like an orphanage, only it’s not correct to call them that anymore. That was the first time I noticed people shined, when I stepped foot in that place.
“I didn’t recognize the darkness at first. Surrounded mostly by other children, what darkness there was, was fleeting. Before I could analyze it, it was gone. When I was six, I got placed in my first foster home. That’s where I learned about the darkness.” I remember the sensation of wetting my pants when I first encountered the woman with the boiling pewter halo but keep this bit of information to myself. Goosebumps shiver along my skin; however, I’m too deep inside myself to be bothered by the chill.
“My first foster mother was the person responsible for me equating the darkness with evil. She was an expert at hurting us where it wouldn’t show. She had me for seventeen months before I could get away. I’ve never let anyone hurt me since.” I describe to Gabriel how I spent the next several years constantly in motion, in and out of The Children’s Center, never staying in one place for very long. Constantly running from the darkness.
“When I was twelve, one of my foster families returned me to The Children’s Center and I met Derry. I stayed for two and a half years because I coul
dn’t bear to leave him. But there was a boy, a teenager, who was so dark I couldn’t get near him without being sick. He started—uh—fixating on me. Trapping me in the hallway, stalking me to and from the bathrooms, stuff like that. There was so much hate emanating from his eyes. I don’t know what happened to him, but whatever it was, pretty much destroyed him. He was a monster in a human shell.
“He started hassling Derry and I knew I had to get away—it was the only way to keep Derry safe. For some reason, I seem to attract the really dark ones. They’re drawn to me—like they sense I can see them for what they are—their evil—and they feed on it.
“That’s what it was like the first day, with those boys and Mr. Creepy, until you showed up.” At some point Gabriel has removed his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I don’t recall when it happened, but I pause to pull it tighter around my shivering body. Closing my eyes while I inhale, I center myself in the heady infusion of Gabriel’s scent trying to stave of the dread gathering in my chest. After a long moment, I consider Gabriel with my steady gaze. “I’ve told you my terrible secret. Now tell me yours.”
For a moment, he looks as if he’s considering lying again. I watch as a silent struggle wages behind his heavenly blue eyes, and then he admits earnestly, “I’m assigned to you.”
“Assigned?”
He nods. “I’m your guardian.”
“Like a bodyguard? From the government or something?”
His wan smile is sincere as he shakes his head slightly. “Not like that.”
“Like what, then?”
“I’m your guardian. I was sent to you.”
“As in guardian angel?” As ridiculous as the words sound on my lips, one glance at him confirms to my heart it’s true.
His brow quirks. “Technically, I’m a Seraph.”
“But you eat! I’ve seen you.” It’s funny I would think of our Oreos at a time like this. Then other thoughts come—Gabriel sweating in gym, knocking Naomi with my backpack, the vulnerable look sometimes in his eyes, the scent of his laundry soap—images flicker through my mind so rapidly I can’t process them all.
