Glass Heart

by Amy Garvey

  Well, that idea is completely terrifying, but I decide to believe he’s joking. “I’ll call you.”

  “You better. I want to see what other tricks you can do.”

  I laugh. “Better than balloons, I promise.”

  “Who was that?” Dar asks when I go back into my room, and I shrug casually. Dar never thinks anyone has a secret—or a reason for keeping it.

  “Ryan. Just checking in about Becker.”

  Her mouth forms a perfect O of pity, the way I knew it would. Becker still hasn’t come back to school, and the last time I saw him, he was so high on pain pills he could barely keep his eyes open. No one knows what to say when it comes to him, so most people just don’t say anything.

  The lie feels dirty, even if it’s just a little one. After everything that happened when Danny died, I promised myself no more secrets, no more keeping anything I didn’t absolutely have to from my friends.

  But now . . . I stuff my phone into my pocket, and my guilt with it.

  I turn the corner onto Dudley at eight o’clock on Thursday night, where Jess and Dar are supposed to be waiting for me. Noah Strickler’s parents are skiing in Vermont, and he’s having the kind of enormous open house that everyone goes to, no matter who you are. Noah’s house is epic, and so are his parties. His parents are, I guess, either clueless or completely unconcerned, even though the house usually smells like it was marinated in beer the day after one of his keggers.

  Jess and Darcia are waiting, as planned, huddled together in the cold, but they’re not alone. Gabriel is standing with them, a tall slash of boy in the darkness, moonlight on his hair.

  And the carefully built wall that had been keeping all my feelings about him safely hidden starts to crumble, right there. I can feel the first crack whispering up from the ground and the bricks shifting and breaking.

  It’s all I can do not to scream or cry. It’s even more of an effort not to turn and run.

  “Wren, just . . . just give him a chance, okay?”

  From Darcia, I might have expected it. Dar believes in happy endings and refuses to admit that anyone doesn’t deserve one. But Jess? I thought she was going to be on my side.

  “There are no sides,” Gabriel says quietly, and my hands curl into fists.

  “No fair.” Jess and Dar will think I’m talking about their meddling, and that’s okay. I’m as mad about that as I am that Gabriel is already poking into my head.

  “We just wanted to help,” Darcia says, walking up and bumping me with her shoulder. I can’t decide if I want to hug her or squash her. “We thought maybe if you had a chance to talk . . .”

  “Sometimes it’s not that easy,” I tell her, but I’m looking right at Gabriel.

  He looks awful. Pale and sort of pinched, as wrecked as I could ever imagine. Like maybe he has a wall that’s cracking, too, and it hurts.

  “There’s a party to get to, people,” Jess points out. She’s stamping her feet to stay warm. “You guys can talk on the way. Consider it a Christmas gift. To me.”

  Even Gabriel rolls his eyes at that, and I can’t help it, I want to climb all over him and laugh with him and kiss him. It turns out it’s hard to hold on to a mad for five days.

  The hurt is going to last a while, though.

  “All right, walk,” I say, and Dar and Jess set off together, carefully ahead of Gabriel and me. The pom-pom on Dar’s hat bounces as they go, and Jess lights a cigarette.

  Beside me, Gabriel is tall and quiet and so close. I hate the completely inappropriate urge to slide in even closer and let him wrap me up with one arm, the way I would have done a week ago. “Wren, I want to explain,” he starts, and I hold up a hand to stop him.

  “Me first.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod, and he looks so miserable, nearly haunted, that a little more of the ice around my heart melts. But I don’t want to give in completely; I won’t.

  “You really hurt me,” I say, proud that my voice is steady. “That was me that day, Gabriel. I mean, I took the pictures, yeah, and I wanted them to be special, and I really wanted you to like them, but I could have given the same kind of gift to Dar, or Jess.”

  He frowns, and I plunge ahead. “But when I made it snow, that’s not something I can do for anyone else except my family. Not even my friends, Gabriel. I can share stuff like that with you not just because you know about it but because I want to. Do you get that at all?”

  “I do.” The words are choked with regret, heavy in the silence.

  I shake my head, trying to understand. “Then why . . . ?”

  He puts a hand on my arm, and I stop, letting the others turn the corner ahead of us. When I look up, I think I can see everything Gabriel is in his eyes—warm and true and sweet, but troubled, too. There are shadows there, and in them the shapes of fear and loss and helplessness.

  “Because I love you, Wren,” he says, and I can hear my breath escape, the softest gasp of surprise. It shimmers in the cold air. He’s never said that before—we’ve never said it before.

  I don’t even have time to process it, though, because he’s still talking, one hand still resting on my arm, not tight, not possessive, just there, connecting us.

  “There’s just a lot you don’t understand yet about your power, Wren, and when you use it . . .”

  I tip my head back, focusing on the cold sky, the glittering pinpricks of stars. “And you do?” I say when I finally look at him again. “Gabriel, you don’t know any more about it than I do. It’s just power. Magic. It’s natural, for me at least, and my family. I’m not some ticking bomb, you know. I’m only a girl.”

  “A girl who can raise her dead boyfriend from the grave,” he reminds me, and that’s when I shrug his hand away.

  “I learned my lesson. And I can control my power now, you know that.” I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Stop worrying about me, Gabriel. I have a mom for that. I have me for that. I want you to like me, all of me.” Then, before I can think twice, “I want you to love me.”

  He rakes his hands through his hair. “And when you love someone you worry about them. I don’t see what’s wrong with that!”

  Suddenly the cold night is reaching inside my coat, into my bones and blood, and I don’t think it’s just the temperature. “I made it snow for you, Gabriel. I made it . . . beautiful. And what’s wrong is that when it comes to my power, all you do is worry.”

  I leave him standing there and run to catch up with my friends.

  Chapter Thirteen

  NOAH’S IS PACKED, PEOPLE AND LIGHT AND noise spilling out onto the frozen lawn in front, and huddled in half-drunk, shivering circles around the covered pool in back, smoking. I give it another half hour before a drunk sophomore tries to walk across the tarp.

  Music is blaring in the living room, and someone has moved all the dining room furniture to one side so people can dance. Jess heads off in search of Noah, as if saying hi to the host is really an issue, and Dar sticks close to me as we push through to the kitchen.

  Gabriel trails along behind us at a respectable distance of about six feet.

  I hate how much I love that he’s not giving up.

  “It’s really crowded,” Dar says, and I can barely hear her above a bunch of senior guys laughing and hooting over the keg. I grab her right before a spray of beer arcs across the kitchen, and she groans.

  When I look over my shoulder, Gabriel has been cornered by Brian Sung and Phoebe Gleason, who can spot a guy fighting with his girlfriend at five miles. She already has one hand on his arm and her cleavage exposed, and I want to pull her out of the house by her shiny, over-conditioned hair and pounce on her. Hard.

  Not that I’m jealous, of course. I’m not even worried, since I know in my bones that Gabriel wouldn’t cheat. But I still don’t like the way she’s hanging all over him, in her perfect little outfit with her perfect not-so-little breasts, or the way she’s telegraphing “available for random make outs” in huge, neon letters.
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  Gabriel’s attention is focused strictly on Brian, though, and in another minute Phoebe loses interest and wanders away.

  “See?” Darcia whispers, still clinging to my jacket with one hand. “Nothing to worry about there.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” I snap. Not about that, is what I don’t add. Instead, I pull her toward the family room. The sweaty press of bodies all around is already too hot.

  The French doors off the family room lead out to the patio, where there are coolers full of soda and more beer, and the cold is biting and welcome after the crush inside. Dar wipes down a diet cola with the sleeve of her jacket and cracks it open, sitting on the low stone wall that borders the patio.

  “Why are we here again?” she asks me, trying to smile. This kind of thing is never her idea of fun.

  “To have a good time,” I inform her, and grab a bottle of beer out of the other cooler. I’ll just have one, because I know what can happen if I don’t stop, but I don’t mind the idea of a little buzz for now.

  “You don’t have to babysit, you know,” Dar tells me when I sit down beside her. “Go have fun. Or even better, go find Gabriel and talk some more. Isn’t that a good idea?” She makes a hopeful puppy face, and I snort.

  “I’m not babysitting, I’m hanging with my best friend.” I bump her shoulder companionably with my own, but I’m restless. I spent the afternoon running around the deserted park with Bay and Fiona, showing Bay how I could levitate, turn brittle, brown leaves into pinwheels, and make a shimmering carpet of pine needles.

  There’s nothing like the feeling of magic running hot in your blood. It’s like being made of light, silver shimmering in every cell. In comparison, the party feels like nothing but noise and confusion.

  Meg D’Angelo wanders toward us, nodding at Dar before she sits down. “I’ve got a pool going on who pukes first. Want in?”

  That startles a laugh out of me. “No, thanks. I’m tapped out at the moment.”

  She nods. “Yeah, well, me too. Why do you think I’m running it?”

  Darcia stands up abruptly. Her chin is set firmly, and I watch her squaring her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle. “I’m going to go . . . mingle. Just so I can tell Jess I did.”

  “Good girl.” I raise my beer, and Meg does the same. As I watch her push back into the crowd, I tell myself I’m not looking for Gabriel at the same time, and either way, I don’t see him.

  Meg saves me from that by asking if I’ve heard the new Pilots song. We spend the next half hour slowly drinking our beer and discussing the incredibly lame music being played by whoever’s in charge of the sound system. At one point, a couple of sophomores walk by talking about Adam, and Meg and I fall quiet for a few minutes. We’re both shivering, teeth chattering around the wet mouths of our bottles, when Jess plops down beside me.

  “Hey, you,” she says, and grabs my bottle to down the last little bit.

  Meg nods at her, and Jess nods back, and I frown at Jess. “That was my beer, you know.”

  “I tell myself a sip here and there doesn’t count as long as I don’t grab a bottle for myself. Anyway, the keg’s already spent.” She’s pink-cheeked and pretty, eyes bright with happiness and a faint smear of alcohol, and I grin at her.

  “Where’s Dar?” She twists around to scan the crowd around the pool, her ponytail just missing my cheek.

  “She headed inside a while ago. Which I should do, because I’m freezing and I need to pee,” I say, standing up. “I’ll find her.”

  “What did you think of the Brown brochures?” Meg is asking when I walk away. She and Jess aren’t exactly friends, but Meg is another not-so-secret brainiac who’s going to end up somewhere with ancient ivy crawling up the walls.

  I spot Gabriel and Brian sitting on the stairs, each with a half-full beer. They’re talking so intently that Gabriel doesn’t notice me, which I decide is a good thing. I cut through the packed living room and peek into the dining room, where a couple of junior girls are dancing to Kesha, but no Darcia there, either. The last thing I want to do is go up the stairs, which would mean practically climbing over Gabriel, so I decide to look out front before circling around to the back and into the kitchen.

  A few freshmen are sitting in the driveway, passing around a lone red cup, and Jenny Carpenter and Greg Nowak are tangled up in a redwood deck chair someone dragged into the middle of the front lawn. Her shirt is half open, but since his hand is inside it, I figure she’s probably plenty warm enough.

  I don’t look over toward the garage until I hear voices, and then every hair on the back of my neck bristles. Cal Gilford is there, looming over Dar in an actual letterman jacket, like every bad cliché from an after-school special ever written. She has her back up against the garage door and her face tilted up to him, and even from a distance I can see the reflected gleam of tears in her eyes.

  Oh, no way.

  I don’t think twice, just unleash my power in a gust of wind that sends a formerly nonexistent basketball rolling off the roof onto Cal’s head. It lands with a nasty thunk, and he staggers backward, yelping. His red cup of beer splashes all over his jacket, and he winds up on his ass in the driveway, shaking his head and swearing.

  And Darcia is . . . leaning over to help him, horrified, checking for a lump.

  She’s supposed to be running away, because Cal, who’s supposed to be crushing on Jess, was making a move. I think. I thought. Crap.

  I swallow hard, and walk toward them, pasting on my best innocent face. “Everybody okay?”

  “Sort of?” Dar says, and tries to wipe beer off Cal’s jacket with one of her mittens. “A basketball rolled off the roof!”

  “Those things are harder than I thought,” Cal grunts, and stands up. “Hey, Wren.”

  Before I can say anything else, Darcia cuts in. “That awful Jimmy Coes was being a . . .”

  “A dick,” Cal says distinctly, and rubs his head again with a wince. “Had her practically pinned up against the door. Fucking drunk little geek. He took off down the block, probably puking all the way.”

  “I’m going to have beer-breath nightmares for days,” Darcia says with a shudder. “Why can’t anyone normal have a secret crush on me?”

  I’m pretty close to puking myself. Way to get every last detail wrong, I tell myself, and realize someone is standing just behind me. I turn my head and there’s Gabriel, looking very sober and completely grim.

  Perfect.

  “You okay, Dar?” Gabriel says, and she nods. The color is coming back into her cheeks, even if she’s holding one beery mitten by its thumb like it’s toxic.

  “Cal scared him, for life, I think. I almost feel bad.”

  “Well, don’t,” Cal says. “I’m going to, uh, get some ice, I think. Or maybe another beer. No pain, right?” He laughs as he ambles toward the house, the beginning of a spectacular blue egg on his forehead.

  “I’m going to make sure he’s okay,” Dar says with a worried smile. “And tell Jess he should get extra points if she’s still keeping track.”

  Which leaves Gabriel and me standing in the driveway alone, with the basketball in a puddle of spilled beer. This is definitely not my idea of a good party anymore.

  “What did you do?”

  “I don’t actually report to you, you know,” I say, and cross my arms over my chest. I’m already mad at myself. I don’t need him to join in.

  He scratches his head, still frowning. He’s wearing my favorite of his shirts, a dark blue button-down that makes his eyes look startlingly gray. Through the steam of anger, I wonder if he wore it on purpose. “I’m just saying, this is the kind of thing that could get you in trouble. I mean, what if you really hurt him or—”

  “But I didn’t.” I step closer, straightening my spine. “I feel awful about it, okay? But I thought he was hurting her. Plus, he’s supposed to be all in love with her best friend! And anyway, she was being hurt, just not by him.”

  It’s a stupid explanation, and I know it, b
ut now I’m mad at both of us. Clarity has never been a strong point when I’m vibrating with anger.

  “You could have walked up to them, you know, or yelled,” he argues, keeping his voice low. In the reflected light from an upstairs window, his eyes are dark as slate, and in each one is an accusation.

  Tears are hot in my eyes now, and the lump in my throat is going to be hard to talk around. “Well, I didn’t, okay? And I don’t need you supervising me every minute. I know I screwed up, believe me, but thanks so much for making sure to drive that point home a couple more times.”

  He clenches his jaw. “Wren, you don’t—”

  I let it come, fury and hurt whipping together inside me until I have to let it out. “You’re right, I don’t.” A sudden wind swirls up around us, tossing leaves and stray twigs at our feet, a personal storm. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t. I don’t care what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

  “Wren, please.” The agony in his voice would be hard to walk away from if I wasn’t so furious.

  “Just stop,” I tell him, and let my anger shatter the lightbulb in the fixture over the garage door in punctuation.

  He looks wrecked, lost, and I can’t tell whether he’s having another headache or if he hurts somewhere a little deeper.

  “Wren, you have to see this,” someone calls from the front yard, and I drag my gaze away to see Meg arm in arm with Jason Carlson, cracking up. Jason graduated last year, but a lot of kids are home on break and not too proud to come to a high school party. I didn’t know he and Meg were still together.

  Gabriel runs a hand over his face, and I want to walk away, but I also want to throw my arms around him. I’m so tired of being torn.

  I’m still wavering when Gabriel hisses, “Just go.”

  I swallow back a protest and walk over to Meg and Jason, who bends to kiss my cheek. He’s got a new tattoo and an even newer black leather jacket on, and Meg tugs at my hand.

  “Seriously, come on, two of the juniors on the wrestling team are stripped down to their tightie-whities and going at it in the backyard.”