The Halo Chronicles: The Guardian

by Carey Corp

  She stops just inside the room, shrewdly taking in everything about me from my pained smile to my tight posture and death grip on the furniture. If she’s put off by my lack of enthusiasm, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she smiles broadly at me and gives me my space. “Ah, you must be Alex.”

  Managing a nod that feels as though my neck’s breaking in two, I reply, “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “You can call me Nana.” Then, as if sensing what she’s asking is too much from me, she adds, “Or Nana Kransky, or Judith, or whatever you are comfortable with, child.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Nana Kransky fits somehow, but I can’t bring myself to say it.

  With a satisfied nod, she turns to Kate, declaring, “I would like to freshen up, please. And I am starved. Is that your gumbo I smell?”

  The women leave the room debating the merits of okra in gumbo. After they go, Steven takes a step toward me. “See,” he says genially, “that wasn’t too bad.”

  I nod, grateful she has given me breathing room. “She seems nice.”

  Oven dinner Nana Kransky mostly catches up with Kate and Steven, glancing every so often in my direction and winking. By the end of the meal, she doesn’t seem quite as foreign or as intimidating as I’d feared.

  After dessert and coffee, she shoos Kate and Steven from the room, declaring, “Alex and I will clean up.” When Kate begins to protest she interjects, “You cooked Katie. The cook is exempt from cleanup—no exceptions. Now go.”

  Once Kate and Steven make their reluctant exit and we’ve cleared the table, Nana Kransky turns to me, her eyes glinting mischievously. “How about I wash and you dry?”

  When I point out Kate and Steven’s dishwasher, she answers, “Bah, some things are better accomplished the old fashioned way.” I get the distinct impression she’s referring to more than the dishes, but it would be impolite to argue. So I take the offered towel and resign myself to drying.

  After a moment, she hands me a bowl, asking, “So Alex, what are you making for Thanksgiving Dinner tomorrow?”

  Grateful I’ve got a job to focus on, I answer, “I think Kate’s got it all taken care of. She’s already shopped and everything.”

  The older woman nods, silent in thought for a few moments while she washes silverware. Giving a sly glance my way, she clears her throat before proclaiming, “To me, Thanksgiving is about being with loved ones and celebrating all we are blessed with. My family has a tradition. Everyone contributes at least one dish, their favorite.” I open my mouth to protest, but she continues before I can interrupt. “Kate will make the turkey. Steven does the mashed potatoes. And I will make my famous sweet yam casserole.” She pauses, turning to assess me with her clear, eagle eyes. “What would you like to make, child?”

  With no experience, I don’t have confidence in my ability to cook anything. When I tell Nana Kransky this she scowls. “What is your favorite Thanksgiving dish?”

  I think about this for a moment before deciding on an answer that’s both true and careful. “Probably the cranberry sauce—but it comes in a can.”

  Nana Kransky’s laughter is loud as it fills the kitchen. “Oh child, what do you think people did before canned cranberries? Tomorrow, you will make the cranberry sauce.”

  I do my best not to panic over a stupid little thing like making cranberry sauce, but my deep breathing gives me away. Nana Kransky stops washing to place a soothing hand on my shoulder. “Relax, child. Thanksgiving is about family, our blessings—the food is merely a way to celebrate. And you don’t have to make the sauce in a vacuum. If you need help, all you need to do is ask.”

  Her shrewd eyes narrow expectantly, and suddenly I realize I’ve been outmatched. What she’s talking about has little to do with cooking and everything to do with life—my life. She’s asking me to trust her, offering her help in return. She’s telling me I don’t need to be alone. That I’ve got a choice.

  As she smiles at me, her astute eyes dancing with acceptance, I consider what she wants and admit to myself it’s no burden to submit. Inexplicably it endears the older woman to me. “Ok, Ma’am.” I sigh, looking her squarely in the face. “I’ll make the cranberry sauce, if you’ll help me, please.”

  Satisfied, she beams at me, her halo bubbling up around her. “See Alex, asking for help is not as hard as you think.”

  Despite the fact she’s nearly a stranger, and the fact I’m—gulp—cooking, I have to agree with her. As we face each other, understanding passing between us, a weight lifts from me taking a chunk of the old Alex with it. Surprisingly I feel light, almost giddy by the thought that although I’m becoming someone else—a new version of myself—I’m not alone.

  *

  It turns out cooking’s not too difficult when you have help. Despite my inexperience, I actually enjoy toiling in the kitchen alongside Kate and her mother. There’s also satisfaction in eating a delicious meal I’ve helped prepare with my own hands. And of course being with people who care about me, that I’m learning to care about in return, is a blessing all its own.

  Yet even as I gain new insights into the art of Thanksgiving, my heart aches for Gabriel and Derry, the two people closest to my soul. I spend the rest of the holiday break thinking about them, devising plans to bring about reconciliation in both the emotional and literal senses.

  Monday morning I wake before the sun, restless and expectant. Watching the sunrise with unseeing eyes, I think about the person I’m becoming, a person who asks for help and chooses to trusts in those around her. I’ve no clue what I’ll say to Gabriel when I see him. I only know there must be forgiveness, for each other and ourselves, so we can move forward. And I want to move on. My inexperienced heart’s strangling with this thing between us, the terrible kiss, and I want the weight of it lifted.

  After Kate and Steven leave, I slip out of the house early, intending to intercept Gabriel at the corner. But he’s already waiting on the porch. As I quietly open the door, careful not to wake Nana Kransky, he jumps to his feet.

  “What’re you doing here?” Surprise causes my voice to squeak.

  “Waiting for you.”

  There’s no smile in his eyes, just uncertainty as I lead him away from the porch, hastily explaining about Kate’s sleeping mother. When we’re out of earshot around the corner, I stop walking. Turning to Gabriel, I gaze at him like we’ve been apart for a hundred years instead of merely four days.

  His sandy-blonde hair hangs at an angle across his forehead, in danger of falling across his face, and I clench my fist against the urge to brush it back. An unconscious sigh escapes from my lips as I stare into the turbulence of his eyes. In his transparent gaze, I read apology, desire, anguish, patience, and longing. He melts me as I whisper around the lump forming in my throat, “I don’t want to be angry at you anymore.”

  So softly he answers, “Then don’t be.”

  All my preparations to affect detachment, to remain aloof despite his rejection, collapse. Closing my eyes against the wave of emotion threatening to spill down my cheeks, I hear him apologize, “I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I never want to hurt you—it’s just that kiss—it had nothing to do with you—my reaction, I mean. I have a purpose for being here—with you. Neither one of us can afford to lose sight of my mission. Not even for a second.”

  I feel his hand, large and warm against my chin, as he lifts my face. Blinking my eyes open, I’m confronted with Gabriel’s intense frown. “There’ve got to be boundaries between us, physical ones. Can you accept that?”

  “Yes.” Because despite my confusion and my intentions to protect my heart, I’m in love with him. Afraid to say more without pouring out my feelings, I nod and tell myself it’s enough. Because boundaries are better than absence.

  His thumb brushes lightly against my jaw before he reluctantly lets me go. Turning back toward the street, his eyes focus straight ahead as he cautiously asks, “Do you still want me to be your boyfriend?”

  I fight against the sob trying to wrench
itself from my throat. Exhaling forcefully, I focus on relaxing my muscles enough to whisper. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Gabriel threads his fingers through mine and we resume walking. As we move, I glance down at our intertwined hands. I tell myself it’s better than nothing. It has to be enough.

  The morning passes uneventfully, but when it’s time to part for Government, I’m reluctant to let him go. Now that I know he’s my Guardian, it bothers me he has History with Naomi instead of Government with me. Stopping in an alcove just short of the classroom door, I grip his entangled hand, pulling him close. Gabriel quirks a brow, first at our joined hands then at what he sees on my face.

  “Why don’t you have this class?”

  “I can’t be with you all the time.”

  Unable to help myself, I roll my eyes at his answer. “Sure you can. That’s your job.”

  “It’s not like I don’t have other things to— ” I give my head a small shake causing him to admit sheepishly, “You’re right. You are the only thing that matters. But you must learn to stand on your own.” Reaching out, he captures a strand of my hair and twirls it absently around his fingers. “I’m not going to be with you forever… and part of my job is to make sure you’ll be strong enough to continue on your own when I’m no longer needed.”

  His honest words are spoken lightly, as if his tone will keep them from tearing my heart. “But, of course, you can’t offer any other details, can you? Like why you’re here or what it all means—anything that could actually help me become stronger.”

  “Please Alex, don’t do this now.”

  I’m literally in the dark. Perpetually weak and scared—not only of the dark ones but also of losing Gabriel. “Can you, at least, tell me how long we have?”

  “Truthfully, Alex, I don’t know.”

  And something terrible is going to happen to me—to us. I nod unable to find my voice. Unfortunately, Mrs. Davis interrupts us, calling me inside as the bell rings. Before letting me go Gabriel’s hand gives mine a quick squeeze. “See you after class.”

  In a stupor, I follow Mrs. Davis into Government and take my seat in the center of the second row. As she calls roll I think about why Gabriel has come into my life and the job he must do. Not only is he my protector, he’s been sent to save me from something so massive it requires the intervention of an angel—a Greater Seraph.

  Despite my layers of clothing, a chill works its way up my spine, not just because I’m dwelling on some dark, unforeseen future event but because after whatever that is occurs, Gabriel will leave. And I’ll be alone. Again.

  Find Derry. Avoid the darkness until I am no longer a minor. Keep control of my life. And if I’m stupid enough to fall in love—never admit to it.

  Behind me, I hear the classroom door open and close, but I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself to pay much attention. There’s a small commotion in the back of the room. Some snickering and whispering as whoever’s entered shuffles their way toward the front of the class.

  I don’t care to eavesdrop, but suddenly, I can’t help it. Needing a distraction from my own bleak train of thought, I listen, figuring out the newcomer’s a stranger to the school. Whoa, where’d he come from? Is he wearing Salvation Army clothes? Did Midlands start a charitable exchange program I haven’t heard about? Maybe he’s some kind of idiot savant? Should we escort him to the Special Ed classroom?

  And I feel sorry for the guy, in a vague sort of way. I know what it’s like to be new and alone, the helpless focus of adolescent derision. Kids are cruel. With disgust, I realize I’m anticipating the newcomer passing so I can make my own assessment. Purposefully I turn my head away from the aisle, refusing to stoop to their level.

  Still waiting for the boy in question to pass, I close my eyes and feign disinterest. The quiet shuffling stops and I hear a collective gasp. He doesn’t pass me but rather stops in the proximity of my desk. Slowly I turn, willing the unfortunate new student to continue forward. But he’s standing in the aisle, as if waiting for some type of response from me.

  The other students are right, of course. His sneakers are shabby, clothes faded and ill-fitting, obviously second-hand. He’s gangly and tall, with close-cropped, military style hair…and one of the brightest, purest saffron halos I’ve ever seen. My jaw drops open in total surprise as the boy beams at me, quite oblivious to the comments swirling around him. Clipped to his too small jacket is a pink MP3 player.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Hey, Lexi.” Derry smiles from ear to ear, clearly pleased with himself. “Happy to see me?”

  In truth I am. Relief floods my chest as I choke down a lump the size of a walnut. Our surroundings fade into the background as I spring from my seat and throw myself at him. I wrap my arms around Derry’s scrawny chest in a bear hug. “I’ve been so worried! What happened to you?”

  He pulls back regarding me in his simple, tranquil way. “You did, Lexi. I missed you.”

  He’s grinning at me like he’s just pulled off the best surprise in human history. His eyes twinkle with sly satisfaction. As I stare into them, deepest slate with starbursts of amber and walnut colored flecks, joy overwhelms me. My eyes begin to sting with unshed tears and I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t seem to make it close.

  “Are you surprised, Lexi?”

  Still choking down my reaction, I nod vigorously.

  How? Why?

  “Mr. Derrick Williams, I presume? Why don’t you take a seat up front, please?” Mrs. Davis intervenes before I can verbalize any of the dozen or so questions swirling in my addled brain. Reluctantly, Derry shuffles forward. As he slides into his seat, he casts a mournful look over his shoulder. I understand because I also feel upset our reunion has been interrupted. Thankfully, lunch is next, because I can’t think of anything but Derry. I spend the rest of Government basking in his shimmering saffron halo and remembering why he’s my best friend in the world.

  When Derry and I met at the age of twelve, he was a clueless, gangly boy who was more interested in sci-fi and comic books than his immediate surroundings. His shaggy hair looked as though he’d cut it himself and his clothes never matched. He also possessed the purest heart I had ever known—good through and through. He was always insisting we play Star Wars, making me be Princess Leia, so he could be Luke Skywalker and rescue me from evil. I thought it was sweet because, out of the two of us, if anyone needed rescuing it was him.

  We managed to stay together for two and a half years at The Children’s Center, more than I’d stayed anywhere else. I couldn’t abandon him. And then I’d no choice but to go and I couldn’t take him with me. That killed me—leaving him alone and unprotected—even if it was safer. But he took it in stride, as if I were just going away for the weekend.

  After I left, I called him every night—sleeping better after hearing his voice. Then about a month before school started, some kid I didn’t know answered and said Derry wasn’t there “no more.” She didn’t know anything else so I didn’t press her.

  Where’ve you been these last four months?

  As I stare at his familiar form with his pure, shining halo an integral part of me that has been missing knits back into my soul. And I understand Derry’s a huge part of the person I’m becoming, the girl who trusts and loves. And stays.

  After class, Derry and I meet in the aisle, mutely taking stock of one another. He’s nearly a foot taller than the last time I saw him, and I’ve got to tip my head up to gaze into his face. Although he’s smiling, I see a flicker of confusion in his gray-brown eyes. “You look different, Lexi.”

  His assessment disturbs me. I drop my head to frown at my fuzzy boots realizing how much I’ve changed from the wild-haired girl with the army jacket and the don’t F— with me attitude.

  “Your hair’s pretty.”

  The gentle tug of his hand on my hair causes me to look up again, first at his kind eyes, then at his achingly familiar face with its slightly too big nose, and finally at his stubbly, lump
y head. “Yours is gone,” I say, brushing my hand along the side of his bristly temple.

  Derry leans into my fingers before answering with a small shrug. “My new foster parents. They insist all their foster boys shave their heads—easier that way. But I don’t mind so much. All their foster girls have real short hair, too.”

  “How many foster kids do you live with?”

  “Eight, I think. I’m only just getting settled.” He thinks for a split second wiggling his fingers. “There are two other boys, five girls, and me—I’m the oldest foster. Then the Eccles have two kids of their own.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of kids.”

  Derry just smiles serenely. “I don’t mind so much. Especially if I get to see you all the time.”

  We exit through the classroom door and Gabriel’s waiting on the other side to escort me to lunch. Derry’s hand wraps around my upper arm and he pulls me closer to him as he notices Gabriel patiently watching us.

  “Who’s this, Lexi?” Derry stops, narrowing his eyes and making no move to release me.

  For a second, I’m completely overwhelmed. How do I explain to my best friend I’ve got someone new in my life, someone as important as he is, but that I have room for both? This isn’t the Alex that Derry knows, and I worry he won’t understand.

  Sighing, I decide to get introductions over as quickly as possible. “This is Gabriel, my—uh—boyfriend.” Derry’s brow pinches at the last word causing me to add self-consciously, “Derrick—Gabriel, Gabriel—Derrick.”

  Gabriel offers his hand with a genuine smile. “Hello Derrick, I’ve heard a lot about you.”