Pillars of Fire

by Laurice Elehwany Molinari

  Vero, wait up!” Tack yelled as he maneuvered over to Vero’s locker in the crowded school hallway. “Where were you this morning?”

  “I had to go to the doctor’s for a physical,” Vero said as he rummaged through his metal locker.

  “Aw, man, I hate those things. All they ever tell me is that I need to eat better . . . and less,” Tack grimaced, running his hand through his strawberry-blond hair. “Then my mom always goes on some health food binge for a few weeks, and she puts stuff like seaweed snacks in my lunch, and we eat tofu burgers for dinner.”

  Vero wrinkled his nose as he pulled a dirty white sock from his locker.

  “Hey, even that smelly thing looks good compared to eating a tofu burger,” Tack said, nodding to the sock. “So anyway, after this goes on for a while, my dad will say he needs to go to the hardware store, and he’ll take me with him. But it’s nothing but a giant lie just so we can go to a drive-thru instead and get some real food. After a few days of sneaking around, my mom’ll find the wrappers in the backseat of the car, she’ll yell at my dad, and he’ll say he’d rather die a few years earlier but happy instead of eating that weird stuff. Eventually my mom gives up, and then the next thing I know, the Ding Dongs are back in the house.”

  “Yeah, but don’t you always have a secret stash of them under your bed?” Vero asked.

  Tack shook his head dejectedly. “Not anymore. Pork Chop found them, and ate every single Ding Dong, tinfoil and all.”

  “That dog eats everything.”

  “Yeah, for the next couple of days, the grass in the backyard looked like a Christmas tree decorated in tinsel.”

  Vero laughed. Pork Chop was Tack’s English bulldog. Vero knew about the theory that owners and their dogs sometimes looked alike, but it wasn’t true in Tack’s case anymore — especially since Tack had stretched out and lost all his extra weight two summers ago. Even so, Tack and Pork Chop still shared the same eating habits. Just as Vero was about to shut his locker door, Tack stuck his hand inside and pulled something out. It was a half-eaten sandwich.

  “I wouldn’t eat that,” Vero warned him. “I have no idea how long that’s been in my locker.”

  “Guess we’re about to find out,” Tack said as he shoved it into his mouth. “Think of it as a medical experiment.”

  “More like a science experiment on the opposite of Newton’s law of gravity,” Vero smirked before he shut the locker.

  Tack gave Vero a blank look. “Whatever. Hey, so I got it all worked out,” he continued. “Henry Matson, that basketball dude, is gonna trade places with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “For the class photo. He’s gonna switch places with you so you can be in the back row.”

  “Why do I want to be in the back row?” Vero asked.

  “Because the cool guys are always in the back. Girls and dorks are in the rest. And it’s totally humiliating if you’re a guy in the front row. That will haunt you for life.”

  “Thanks, I guess, but won’t the photographer notice he’s taller than me when he lines us up?”

  “Yeah, but when he’s not looking, Henry’s gonna change with you then crouch down for the photo,” Tack answered.

  “Why would he do that for me?”

  “He’s a freak. He likes Mallory, so I promised to hack into her Facebook account and add him as one of her friends.”

  “Your sister will just unfriend him when she finds out.” Vero smiled.

  “Probably, but by then the picture will be shot, and it won’t be my problem.” Tack swallowed the last of the sandwich. He looked at the empty wrapper in his hand. “Wow, that was awful.”

  Tack was a faithful friend to Vero and always tried to look out for him. Their friendship went way back to preschool when they bonded over their mutual love of Tonka dump trucks and seesaws. Growing up, they played baseball together, sang in the church choir, had sleepovers most weekends. They shared video games and books (in Tack’s case just comic books), and they even shared a toothbrush for a week when Tack forgot to bring his to sleep-away camp. Tack knew Vero’s favorite color was yellow. He knew Vero cried when the class bunny died in the second grade. He knew Vero hated snakes more than anything.

  Tack was confident he knew every single thing about Vero. But he didn’t. For instance, he had no idea that his best friend wasn’t even human or that he traveled between earth and a spiritual realm called the Ether. He had no idea that Vero was in training to become a guardian angel. And he certainly didn’t know about the wings. Sure, there had been some weird things going on. Like the time Vero strangled a corn snake with his bare hands or the day he effortlessly cleared two hurdles at once on the track. But Tack thought up rational explanations for the events and then pushed them out of his mind. He never wanted anything between Vero and him to change.

  The obnoxious warning bell rang, startling Tack and Vero. Kids scurried through the hallways to their classes. Tack forced Vero into a headlock, and they disappeared into the crowd.

  Vero stood in the middle of the packed school gym. As he glanced at the drove of kids surrounding him, he noticed that most of their summer tans had already faded. And Missy Baker, whose hair was always green for the first few weeks of school from teaching swim lessons all summer, had returned to her natural blonde shade. Autumn had definitely replaced summer.

  Several photographers stood stationed around the gym, clicking fingers, as kids waited in long lines to have their yearly school photos taken. At the same time, a few homeroom classes climbed up the bleachers for their group photos. A delicate hand tapped Vero’s shoulder.

  “Hi, Vero. How are you?”

  Vero turned around and saw Davina Acker smiling at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. She was, after all, not only the most beautiful girl in the seventh grade, but also the nicest. With long, wavy brown hair, full lips, and sparkling blue eyes, Davina had every right to be stuck up, but there was nothing remotely arrogant about her. It was as if she was completely oblivious to her own beauty. Vero often wondered if Davina even owned a mirror and had ever seen her reflection.

  “Hey, Davina, um . . . you look . . . nice,” Vero stammered.

  “Thanks.”

  “What about me? How do I look?” Tack had appeared suddenly out of the crowd.

  Davina and Vero jumped back at the sight of him. Tack was wearing an obnoxiously loud purple and yellow striped shirt with mint green pants. Just looking at him, Vero thought he’d get a severe case of vertigo.

  “When did you put those on?” Vero asked with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle.

  “I snuck into the bathroom and changed. My mom wouldn’t let me out of the house wearing this, so I stashed them in my backpack. I just really want to stand out in the picture.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Davina winked at Vero, giggling.

  “But my hair won’t stay down,” Tack said as he licked the palm of his hand then tried to smooth down his hair. “Think anyone will notice?”

  “Trust me, that’s the last thing anyone’s going to notice about you,” Vero reassured him.

  Tack let out a huge belch. Everyone in the immediate vicinity winced and stepped back. The look on Tack’s face said he was as surprised as everyone else.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know where that came from.”

  “Probably from that sandwich from my locker,” Vero chided him.

  “That belch tasted like mayonnaise.”

  “My mom puts lots on all my sandwiches.”

  “And you let me eat that?!” Tack sounded panicked.

  “I warned you!”

  “Shortest to tallest,” a photographer yelled to Vero’s class, putting an end to the conversation.

  Vero and Tack headed toward the bleachers with the rest of the kids. Most had a pretty good idea to which row they belonged. As Vero eyed a spot in the middle row, a shoulder slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the gym floor. Vero looked up and saw the shoulder belonged to Danny
Konrad.

  “Vero!” Davina said, seeing him on the floor. She ran down the bleacher steps. But before she reached Vero, Danny turned around and came back, stepping between the two of them. He grabbed Vero by the arm.

  “Oh, sorry, Vero. I guess I didn’t see you there,” Danny said. To hear Danny speak, it sounded like a sincere apology. But as he helped Vero to his feet, Danny flashed him a nasty sneer.

  “Are you all right?” Davina asked Vero with concern.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Vero said, rubbing his elbow.

  Vero’s face darkened as he locked eyes with Danny. Months ago, Vero had risked his life to save Danny from two demonic maltures. He had even gone up against Abaddon, the locust king, who guards the lake of fire — ​a creature so frightening, he literally took Vero’s breath away. And yet, Danny was still a jerk to him! But there was nothing Vero could do about it. He could never reveal to Danny that he was his guardian angel.

  “We better line up,” Danny said. “Sure you’re okay, Vero? Or do you want me to walk you over to the front row?” He snickered.

  “I’m not in the front row,” Vero said, gritting his teeth.

  “Of course not,” Davina soothed. “You’re not that short.”

  Vero sighed. This conversation was not going his way.

  “I don’t have all day, people!” the photographer said as he waved Vero to the bleachers.

  There was no doubt Danny was headed for the back row. He was a year older than the other students in the class, and he was a big kid on top on that. Danny was the undisputed class bully. Or he used to be anyway, until Davina Acker showed up last year. She was new to the school and didn’t know Danny’s reputation. Ever since she had arrived, the most feared kid in the school had suddenly begun to soften. Danny stopped shoving innocent kids in lockers and talking back to teachers. He carried Davina’s tray at lunch. Once, he even held the door open for Principal Meyers and smiled.

  There was only one problem. Davina liked Vero just as much as she liked Danny, which explained why, no matter what Vero did, Danny refused to be friends with him. Vero made Danny nervous. Vero was still rubbing his elbow as he took his place in the next to last row from the back. The photographer looked the group over. He rearranged a few kids. And when he turned his back to set up the camera, Tack nudged a tall boy standing next to him.

  “Henry, quick, switch with Vero.”

  “You’re going to friend me with your sister, right?” the tall boy asked urgently.

  “Yeah, I said I would,” Tack promised.

  Henry tapped Vero on the shoulder, and the two traded places. Henry bent his knees, and the photographer was none the wiser. Tack turned to Vero.

  Vero was sure Tack was about to congratulate himself for pulling off his ruse, but instead he looked at Vero and said, “I’m not feeling so good.”

  Vero noted that Tack’s face was nearly the same shade of green as his pants. “You don’t look great.”

  The photographer moved behind the camera and made a few adjustments to the lens. Vero looked over at Tack. He was not smiling. He seemed to be turning greener by the second.

  “Maybe you should go to Nurse Kunkel’s office,” Vero suggested.

  “It’s okay . . . if this guy would just hurry up and take the stinkin’ picture.”

  “All right, everyone, give me your best smiles,” the photographer instructed the class. “On the count of three say, ‘cheese.’ ”

  As the kids straightened up, the photographer shouted, “One, two . . .”

  One count ahead of schedule, the kids simultaneously shouted, “FEAR ME.” Vero looked around, completely freaked out. The class chanted the phrase over and over, with the photographer leading them, his hand up in the air — ​each time getting louder and louder, smiles still plastered across their faces. They appeared to be in a trance, even the green-faced Tack. Vero’s heart pounded. Was anyone else aware of what was happening? Finally, the photographer put his eye to the lens and yelled, “Three!” The kids shouted “cheese” as he snapped the shot. And at the precise moment the flash went off, Tack lost his battle for control over the contents of his stomach. Chunks blew all over his classmates in the rows below. Kids screamed. Some ducked. Some ran. The sight — ​and sound and smell — ​of Tack throwing up, caused more than a handful of other kids to become sympathetic pukers. Within moments, the entire gym was in chaos: kids hurling on each other, while others bolted for the doors, slipping and sliding in vomit on the now slick wooden bleachers. The teachers couldn’t control the pandemonium. Tack gave Vero a guilty look.

  “Yep. That sandwich was definitely bad. But at least I feel better now.”

  However, this time it was Vero’s turn to have an uneasy feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. And it had nothing to do with the vomit.

  A loud clang pierced the air, the unmistakable sound of metal striking metal. Several more hard blows followed, then a foil thrust straight into Vero’s torso. The force of the weapon made him lose his footing. He stumbled back and fell hard to the floor. Relentless, his attacker advanced. Vero looked up at the menacing steel mesh mask standing over him.

  “Lucky shot,” Vero said.

  “If that was luck, then what were those last three attacks that landed you right on your butt?” a teenage girl’s voice answered.

  “Bad luck?”

  His opponent removed her heavy mask. It was Clover, Vero’s fourteen-year-old sister. She offered her hand and pulled Vero to his feet. Needing a bit of fresh air on his sweaty face, Vero also pulled off his mask. He blinked in the sudden light of the small sports club. Two other fencers battled in a heated match nearby. The fencing classes were over for the day, but Vero and Clover stayed behind to practice their parrying and jabs.

  “What’s up with you?” Clover wondered. “You can’t focus at all.”

  It was true. The uncanny events of the day had put Vero’s mind elsewhere. First the doctor’s office, then the class photo — ​Vero was totally distracted. But he couldn’t tell his sister about what had happened. Even though Clover was the only human being who knew he was a guardian angel, Vero was unsure how many details of his life in the Ether he should share with her. As wonderful as the Ether was, maltures and demons consumed by hatred also dwelled there. They terrified Vero, and he wanted to protect his sister from them, and the knowledge of them.

  But as much as both Vero and Clover wanted to deny it, Clover was already at risk. She had a gift — ​a gift she wanted so desperately to return, like the terrible pink polka-dot dress her grandmother gave her for her last birthday. No matter how hard she tried to deny or ignore its existence, it only seemed to grow stronger. Gradually, Clover had to make peace with the fact that she saw things that other people simply did not see — ​frightening things, like maltures disguised as teenage boys. And closing her eyes did not make the images go away.

  “I’m just tired, I guess,” Vero said, which wasn’t altogether a lie.

  “You wanna quit?”

  “No.” Vero put his mask back on and smiled weakly. “Bring it.”

  Clover and Vero stepped into position to square off. Each placed their feet at ninety-degree right angles, remembering their instructions about the importance of proper stance. The correct foot placement created better stability and control. Both raised the blades in their hands. Dressed from head to toe in protective white garments, Vero noticed Clover almost looked like an angel, minus the wings.

  It had been Vero’s idea to take up fencing. After having engaged in a vicious sword fight in the Ether a few months ago, he felt he needed to sharpen his skills. Clover wasn’t as excited to take up the sport, but she agreed to accompany him at her parents’ prodding. They were really keen on the sport, not because they loved fencing, but because they thought it might lead to a college scholarship for both their kids.

  Vero and Clover sized up one another. Fencing not only taught agility and endurance, it required a great deal of mental energy. A fencer needed to lo
ok for the vulnerable spots in his or her opponent. Vero lunged toward Clover, but she blocked his attack with her foil. Clover counter​attacked harshly with an envelopment, taking Vero’s blade and moving it in a complete circle, freeing the target area. She quickly followed with a jab to his chest. The match was pretty much over before it began.

  “Touché,” Vero conceded. “I’m done.”

  Clover lowered her blade and removed her mask. Vero also yanked off his mask and slid to the floor, his back against the red padded gym wall.

  “I never beat you,” Clover said, concerned. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Vero looked at her, his eyes full of hesitation. Clover plopped down next to him. “I can handle it, you know. Somehow I’m mixed up in all your stuff too.”

  Vero knew it was true. It was no coincidence that Clover was his sister or that she had visions. Whatever God’s plan was for him, it definitely involved Clover. He was placed into the Leland family for a reason, that much was sure. The sound of clanging metal reverberated throughout the gym as the other fencers continued to spar.

  “Something’s happening,” Vero said at last.

  “How do you know?”

  “Maybe because the nurse in the doctor’s office tried to kill me today,” Vero said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Seriously?” Clover asked, her eyes widening.

  Vero nodded.

  “Which nurse?”

  “She wasn’t human. She was only pretending to be a nurse.”

  “Mom must have freaked,” Clover said.

  “She had no clue. She was in the waiting room the whole time.”

  Worry lines spread across Clover’s forehead. “What if she comes back? You shouldn’t ever be alone.”

  Her words hit a nerve with Vero. He let his mask drop to the floor between his knees. “What do you want me to do? Take my mommy everywhere with me?”

  “No, but you need to be more careful.”

  Vero stood up and ripped off his fencing chest vest. “I am careful,” he said angrily.

  At the exact moment Vero threw his chest top to the floor, one of the sparring fencers hit the other’s blade with such force that the protective rubber tip flew off the foil, and the weapon itself went flying end over end. Vero’s eyes went wide as the sharp projectile spiraled straight toward his heart.