by S. L. Naeole
“My British history class is here doing research on the King Henry VII, so I decided to wait for you two to get here so we can discuss what we’re doing on the fourteenth.”
I turned to look at Stacy whose face was suffused with a very intense blush—she looked nearly feverish. “I have no plans, really. Robert’s working that night. What about you, Stacy?”
“Graham asked me to go to the dance with him. I told him I’d think about it.”
Lark huffed. At least, it sounded like a huff. I turned to face her, and though she was smiling, I could see something else hidden behind it. She began discussing her plans with Stacy, but I didn’t hear any of it. Instead, my head filled with her voice that spoke about something completely different.
Graham called me up three nights ago to ask me what he should get for Stacy for Valentine’s day. Can you believe that?
I blinked as her words registered with me. Why would Graham feel the need to discuss Stacy with her? What could he possibly have to talk about that wouldn’t be awkward and misleading in some way?
I asked him why he didn’t just ask you, since you’re his best friend. He explained that I was closer to Stacy, that I would know better than you about what her likes and dislikes are. I tried to tell him that that was absolute rubbish, but I couldn’t. Apparently I’m closer to Stacy.
My face twitched in acknowledgement of that fact. I highly doubted that had circumstances been different, Lark would have ever revealed to me that she was an angel. I only knew about her by default, which hadn’t bothered me. Until now.
Oh please don’t start feeling sorry for yourself, Grace—focus. My entire existence has been focused on what you humans feel, what you humans think. Let me have a moment for myself, will you?
Sheepishly, I nodded my head. It didn’t go unnoticed by Stacy, whose eyes fixed in on my lack of communication. I quickly started fidgeting with my hair, tugging at the strands that were now so neatly confined in an impossibly tight ponytail—courtesy of Robert.
“What are you thinking about, Grace?” she asked, not buying my sudden distraction for a minute.
My eyes flicked around as my mind raced for an explanation. My hesitation only added to the obvious lie that soon spilled forth out of my mouth. “I was just thinking about whether or not Robert would take off from work to take me to the dance.”
To my surprise, Stacy seemed to accept this explanation, and then began to question Lark about whether she knew if her brother was going to ask. As Lark answered, more thoughts that weren’t my own filled my head.
You’re a lousy liar, Grace. It’s no wonder—you’ve surrounded yourself with people who are all unfailingly honest. Well…mostly.
I stopped a snort from coming out, knowing to whom she was referring. Lying isn’t something I’m used to doing. I hate doing it—even when it’s to help you and Robert. I know it’s not the same thing, but lying hurts me, too.
Lark’s physical voice continued to discuss Valentine’s day with Stacy, but her mental voice, the voice that sounded so much clearer and defined in my mind grew soft. I’m sorry that you feel you have to lie for us, Grace. You’re not an electus patronus—you weren’t bred for this. You shouldn’t have to be doing this for any of us—Robert included. We’ve managed to exist without being discovered for centuries without your help. We can continue to do so.
I pursed my lips in annoyance as her words settled into my head. For someone who can read minds, you sure are obtuse, Lark. I don’t lie just to protect you and Robert. I also do it to protect myself and my interests. I’m finally happy, for the most part, and I don’t want anything threatening my happiness.
“Grace, what do you think? Do you think I should go to this dance?”
I turned to look at Stacy, her face earnest, the topic of discussion obviously having headed in a direction that had become less about partying and more about something else. “That’s up to you, Stacy.”
She threw her hands up, exasperated at my half-hearted answer. “You’re no help! This is something major here—everyone in class has been talking about the “after” parties, and Graham being who he is will be expected to go. If I say yes to him, I’ll be expected to go, too, and you know what happens at those parties.
Recognition finally dawned on me and I felt utterly stupid for giving her such an empty response. Everyone, even anti-social me knew what happened at those parties. They weren’t called baby-maker bashes for nothing.
“I think…you should say no, Stacy,” I answered, half-attempting to redeem myself, half-wanting to save both her and Graham from falling prey to the immense peer pressure that would be pressing on them should they go.
Lark nodded her head as she chimed in, “I think Grace is right. You should tell him that you’ve got other plans.”
Stacy pondered our advice, leaving the table silent as Lark and I picked up where our conversation had left off. Grace, there are times when it’s okay to be selfish, but never when it costs you a part of yourself.
My jaw jutted out in defiance. Lying is what had kept the most important part of me safe; I would do whatever it took to keep Robert safe—he was far more important to this world than I was…far more important to me than anything that I might “lose” as a result.
Do you really believe that?
I didn’t have to say anything for her to know that I did. She had never spent a moment of her life as a human being, with the human emotions that separated us in ways her immortality and her abilities didn’t; she would never understand.
Good grief, you’re far more naïve than I thought. Grace, do you believe that losing the trust of people you care about because of your lying is worth it? The electus, they don’t need to lie to their family because the electus is their family. They are born into that life, it’s chosen for them. You’ve chosen this for yourself, and the consequences might not be something you can accept.
There was some truth to her words, I knew that the moment they began to fill my head. I simply couldn’t accept them, though. The lying I had been doing was minor, even if it hurt me to do it, and I knew my dad—knew that even Graham would forgive me for doing it if it meant protecting someone far greater than any of us combined.
“Okay, it’s settled then. I’m not going.” Stacy’s voice jostled me from my thoughts, and I turned to smile at her nervously.
“I’ve decided that I’m going to turn Graham down. I’d rather hang out with you guys than go to some silly dance. I mean, we’ve only been dating a month; that’s too soon,” she continued.
My nervous smile turned into a grin as I replied, “Well, what do you want to do then? Everyone will be at the dance, which means we’ll pretty much have Heath to ourselves.”
Lark snorted. “We always have Heath to ourselves. It’s a small town.”
I started to speak up when Stacy interrupted. “Actually, it’s not as small as you’d like to think. Heath has over eight thousand residents, which makes it small in comparison to, say, Cleveland, but definitely not as small as some other town around here…and I’m babbling.”
Lark and I both nodded.
She blushed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been doing that lately, haven’t I?”
Lark and I nodded in agreement, and then burst out laughing at the frustrated look that spread across Stacy’s face, further intensifying her deepening blush. “You’re too easy, Stacy,” Lark laughed. Stacy started giggling, knowing that it was true.
When the bell rang, announcing lunch, the three of us headed towards the cafeteria, bemoaning the gastronomical terror that awaited us. The heavy odor of grease and something rancid assailed our noses as we walked through the double doors.
“I’ve smelled many awful things over the past few centuries, but this—this stuff absolutely reeks,” Lark grumbled, her voice muffled by her hand which she held above her nose and mouth.
Stacy and I mimicked her as we approached our usual table. Graham was already seated, a plate piled high with an unidentifiable mass of
what resembled food, his mouth dutifully chewing as he waved at the three of us. If one paid attention too closely to his face, they’d spot the subtle differences when he looked upon each one of us. Seeing me, his eyes crinkled with mischief—the usual look that one gave his best friend I suppose. Stacy got an expectant smile, although the corners of his mouth didn’t turn up nearly as much as I think they should have.
But Lark…there was something about the way his green eyes grew intensely bright, the color deepening to a rich hunter green, then quickly faded into a nearly dull, lifeless olive that told me far more than anything else that “like” wasn’t what he felt for her at all. I felt my heart clench at that realization.
My head whipped around to Lark to see if she had heard my thoughts, but to my relief she had not. Instead, her face was riveted onto his, probably seeing the same differences that I had and drawing her own conclusions. But what would those conclusions be? Would they be similar to mine?
As the three of us sat down, Stacy taking her preordained seat beside Graham, I became aware of one important absence. The seat beside me that should have been occupied by Robert was conspicuously empty. I looked at Lark once more and thought of the question in a clear voice so that she’d hear it.
She turned to face me and smiled sadly. “Robert had an errand to run during lunch. He’ll be back soon,” she answered me, not realizing that I hadn’t actually asked the question out loud. Thankfully, neither Stacy nor Graham seemed to have noticed as they were in the middle of a heated, though unusually quiet exchange.
They’re arguing about Valentine’s Day.
Lark hadn’t pried into their thoughts. I knew she hadn’t, but her ability to hear what others were saying, even at a tremendous distance, prevented any sense of discretion, although Stacy seemed to have forgotten that as she lowered her voice even more to a low hum. Lark shook her head and turned to face me, her expression one of dismay and hurt. For most normal high school kids, a month was more than enough time to get over a snub—even one as shocking and disappointing as the one Graham had dealt her—but for Lark, time passed by in blinks. It doesn’t matter what you are: human or angel, hurt like that cannot fade in a blink.
You went from being wholly naïve to being surprisingly astute in the span of just an hour. I’m proud of you. A wan smile replaced the grimace that had marred the angelic beauty of her face and I smiled in return. I didn’t know what else to do as we sat there, trying very hard not to listen to the argument going on right in front of us while also trying to pretend that we were completely oblivious to it.
“Lark, could you come with me to the bathroom, please?”
Lark and I both turned to look at a red-faced Stacy with Lark nodding a reluctant yes as she stood up. She and Stacy headed off towards the restroom and I immediately turned to glare at Graham.
“Don’t give me that look, Grace. I didn’t do anything but ask Stacy to the dance,” he said, the scowl on his face mirroring my own. “How was I supposed to know you guys had plans?”
I feigned disgust as I processed what he had just revealed. Stacy had lied to him! I looked around us to make sure that no one was within earshot and then leaned in, my voice barely above a whisper as I spoke. “Why did you ask her in the first place?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Isn’t that what a boyfriend is supposed to do? Ask his girlfriend to some kind of dance?” He sighed and slunk down in his chair, his eyes flitting back and forth, the same concern for eavesdroppers apparently filling his own head. “Truth is, I wanted to ask Lark. I like Stacy—I really, really do—but she and I are just going to end up breaking up. You know it, I know it. Even Stacy knows it.”
He didn’t have to go any further for me to know that. I already knew what his mouth couldn’t say. I wanted to encourage him to tell Lark how he felt, but before I could lean in even further, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, warning me that something bad was about to happen.
I couldn’t have been any more right.
FREAKS OF A FEATHER
I spun around in my seat as the screech reached us from across the cafeteria. It wasn’t that the sound was nail-on-a-chalkboard piercing, or that it felt like it was bouncing off the walls—a testament to the sound construction of the school, or the universal disgust that had led most students to eat elsewhere—but rather the fact that I recognized it.
From a distance, it looked like some kind of gold and black striped fan was being waved around in the air as a pair of dancers circled the cafeteria floor. A quick flash of a hand, a swift lifting of a leg, and the blond half of the fan was on the ground while the shrieking grew ever louder.
“I’m going to kill you for that,” the voice cried out as the golden arc stood up.
“Oh. My. God.”
Erica Hamilton struggled to stand as the black haired individual laughed, the sound melodious, like a scale of bells ringing in unison. “I don’t think so,” Lark’s voice chimed, and I turned to look to Graham, who watched with rapt fascination as the two girls once again began their dance. My only question was where had Stacy gone.
A figure stood up, as if to answer me and I gasped. Stacy’s forehead was covered with blood, the unstoppable flow sliding down her cheek and onto the floor. I rushed forward and reached her just as a wave of dizziness hit her, causing her to lurch forward in a faint. Graham was beside me as I struggled to lower Stacy to the ground. He removed his button-down shirt and handed it to me. I balled it up and placed it beneath her head as he used his undershirt to dab at the blood that was still flowing freely from a gash on her forehead.
Behind us, the battle between Lark and Erica came to a halt. An angry Mr. Branke and an even angrier Madame Hidani were holding the two girls apart. Okay, so both teachers were holding a frantic Erica back while Lark snarled. Not a single hair on her head was out of place, her clothing lay smooth and wrinkle free on her body, while Erica’s hair resembled a tumbleweed straight out of some old western movie, and her clothing showed some significant tears and staining.
“What’s going on here?” Mr. Branke asked, taking a lazy blow to the side of his head without so much as a blink when Erica reached through her cage of arms to try to claw at Lark, another piercing shriek the only sound she seemed capable of making at the moment.
Lark tucked an invisible strand of hair behind her ear and motioned towards Stacy on the ground. It was then that everyone else noticed the three of us crouched on the cafeteria floor, a bloodied Stacy unconscious in my arms, a worried Graham dutifully pressing down on her wound with his shirt, a cold gleam in his eyes directed at his ex-girlfriend.
“Stacy and I were returning from using the restroom when Erica came out of nowhere and shoved Stacy into the doorway. Stacy hit the edge of the door and fell to the ground, and Erica tried to kick her while she was down. I wasn’t about to let that happen, so I hit her.” Lark’s voice was flat, her demeanor nonchalant, but I knew by the way each word caused Erica to flinch that “hit” wasn’t the only thing that she had done.
Erica’s clawed hands turned into an accusatory point directed at Lark’s head, howling as she did so. “She did something to me. I could hear her in my head. I think she drugged me!”
Lark rolled her pale gray eyes at the sudden outburst and I could have sworn I saw Madame Hidani do the same. “If you’re hearing voices in your head then that surely explains a lot.”
All around us, murmurs of agreement could be heard. The cafeteria was now full of gawkers and onlookers, curious to see who had drawn the wrath of Erica Hamilton this time. No one expected it to be Lark and the fact that—essentially—she was blind only fueled the growing disgust.
“You blind freak!” Erica screamed, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd surrounding us. “It’s no wonder you’re friends with Grace. Freaks! You’re all freaks!”
Mr. Branke, finally tired of being pummeled by Erica’s flailing hands, grabbed both of them and pulled them behind her, forcing her shoulders to hunch back and a c
ry of pain to disrupt her rant. “Come on, Miss Hamilton. I’m taking you to the Vice-Principal’s office.”
Madame Hidani, now accompanied by the school nurse, knelt beside me to see how Stacy was doing. I could feel the fear bubbling within me as I stood up and moved aside to give them room; she hadn’t woken up yet, hadn’t even moved. Graham, too, stood up to allow them room, and the two of us stood silently as they ran through a virtual checklist of things to see how bad things were.
I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder and I glanced up, but it wasn’t Graham’s eyes I was looking into. “Robert,” I sobbed, and felt myself collapse into his waiting arms. “I don’t understand why—Erica just attacked Stacy out of the blue, for no reason, and now Stacy won’t get up.” I fought back the urge to start sobbing, biting my tongue to distract me.
“Shh. It’s okay, she’s going to be fine,” he whispered in my ear. I sighed with relief and eased myself away from him. Sensing my intent, his grip on me tightened. Grace, I’m not going to do anything—I can’t, remember?
Foolishly, I had hoped that the little stipulation about him being unable to use his healing ability for anyone but me could somehow be put aside for a friend, but apparently the rules applied no matter the person. I nodded my head to acknowledge his thoughts and hid my face against his chest, not wanting to witness what was going on behind me.
“It’s okay, Grace. She’s waking up. Look.”
Tentatively, I peeked out from the shelter of Robert’s arms. Stacy’s eyes were open. Well, only one eye; the other eye was sealed shut by dried, crusty blood. She was mumbling something to Lark who was kneeling beside her, her hands wrapped around Stacy’s upraised one. Graham, still standing silently beside me, looked pale. I could only imagine what was running through his mind but whatever it was, it wasn’t doing anything but adding to the difficulty he already faced with the battles going on inside of him.
