The Halo Chronicles: The Guardian
Page 4
In a stupor, I let him seat me facing the wall. As he settles across the table, I fidget uncomfortably, panicking because I can’t have my back to everyone. Needing to watch for the darkness, I try to glance over my shoulders at my surroundings without being obvious about it, but the movements make me nauseous and agitate my injured neck. Noticing my distress, Gabriel stops unpacking his lunch to pat the seat beside him.
“Why don’t you come sit next to me, Alexia.”
I want to, but worry what kids will think.
Continuing to read my mind, he offers, “They’re already talking about us. There’s no reason for you to be sitting over there in agony, when you would be more comfortable on this side.”
As painful as it is to admit, he’s right. So I switch sides. I try not to sit too close but, because there’s a metal bar in my way, end up touching his thigh with mine. Despite our layers of clothing, my leg tingles where we connect.
If Gabriel notices, though, he doesn’t react. Instead, he watches with interest as I pull a Vitamin Water and a cereal bar from my backpack. With a frown he asks, “That’s all you’re having?”
I shrug. “Didn’t think I’d be very hungry.”
Nodding, he begins unpacking his lunch, producing a thick sandwich loaded with veggies and meat on wholegrain bread, an apple, a banana, a Vitamin Water like mine, and a tiny package of Oreos.
“Here,” he says handing me his banana.
Hungrier than I anticipated, I take it without arguing. “Thanks.”
“You’re most welcome.” Crooking an eyebrow, he contemplates me challengingly. “You’re also eating half my Oreos.”
His edict makes me laugh because he has no clue how crazy I am for Oreos. “Half?” I retort, “I was planning on eating them all.” I grab them possessively, clutching them to my chest. Pulling at my hands, Gabriel makes a mock attempt to reclaim his dessert. We scuffle, wrenching the cookies back and forth, until we’re both quaking with laughter.
“Is this seat taken?”
I look up to see two cheerleaders smiling—all vacant and phony but dazzling nonetheless—down at Gabriel. My heart slams painfully in my chest as I realize I’ve let my guard down yet again.
Or maybe my pain has to do with how lovely the two girls are with their perfect makeup and short, sexy uniforms. One blonde and the other brunette, they resemble what I imagine to be the epitome of every teenaged boy’s fantasy. Once they capture Gabriel’s attention, they sit down uninvited.
“I’m Naomi Bennett,” the brunette bimbo says coyly. Her halo’s a smudge, merely a slight darkening around her edges like a grease stain. She nods toward the blonde. “This is Kendra Douglas.”
“Hi,” chirps the blonde one. “You’re Gabriel, right?” She tosses her hair with such skill it should be an Olympic event. Kendra’s surrounded by a flimsy ring the color of stale beer. She’s barely good, which becomes apparent in the way she’s blindly following Naomi’s lead.
They don’t acknowledge my existence as they make themselves at home at our table. Their attention is exclusively for the gorgeous boy at my side. Suddenly, I’m invisible again.
Deflated by the turn of events, I turn away to catch Jonah watching us. Hate shoots like daggers from his eyes toward the two girls seated opposite me and I wonder at the history behind his scowl. All of a sudden, he’s conscious of my scrutiny. Giving me a quick, sharp glare, he turns back into himself, his chaotic halo darkening into slate as he picks at his lunch.
“Alexia?” Gabriel’s breath is low and humid against my ear. I realize he’s been speaking to me, waiting for some kind of response. At some point he has nestled his hand against my back. My skin begins to sing with awareness and I scoot away.
Shaking my head to clear it, I snap back to him. “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.” As I turn toward him, he doesn’t pull back. He—is—so—close.
An involuntary shiver trembles down my spine as our noses brush. He swallows, a small gulp so loud it fills my ears causing me to tremble even more. My stomach tingles in an unfamiliar yet not unpleasant way.
Alarmed he pulls back, holding me at an arm’s length for evaluation. “Are you all right?” The concern in his sea-colored eyes makes them wide.
“Fine.” Nodding self-consciously I fiddle with my water as Gabriel opens his Oreos, giving me two and keeping the other half for himself.
“Oooh,” crows Naomi enthusiastically. “I just love Oreos. They’re the best.”
Gabriel grins. “Yep.”
To my extreme satisfaction, not only doesn’t he offer her any, but he seems to take great pleasure in breaking them apart and slowly savoring them in her face. His thigh presses against mine and I wonder if his action is conscious, if he’s deliberately maximizing our contact.
“So Gabriel, how do you like Midlands High?” Naomi smiles at him sweetly, overlooking the cookies. But I get the impression she’s not used to being ignored.
“Fine.”
“Is it better than your old school?” Kendra bats her eyelashes at him then backs off as Naomi elbows her discreetly.
“Yes.”
As the two girls attempt to chat with him, Gabriel remains polite and brief. Even in the face of his one-syllable answers, they can’t take a hint. He makes a private joke of rolling his eyes at me as he exaggeratedly eats his Oreos, and before I know it, I’m playing along with my own cookies.
When the bell rings, Gabriel clears our combined trash without a word. I’m still sitting when the cheerleaders stand in tandem. “What class have you got next?” Naomi asks.
“English,” he answers curtly.
They move to intercept him on his way back from the waste bin, chattering over the top of one another. “We’ve got English too!”
“Isn’t Mr. Abernathy the best?”
“Did you get yesterday’s homework assignment, since you were out?”
“He’s one of the best teachers at this school. He’s won National awards and everything.”
“My locker’s right on the way, I could get you the answers.”
“He’s really handsome, for a teacher and all.”
Naomi tries to take his arm, but Gabriel successfully evades her grasp. Parting them like the Red Sea, he reaches out to help me to my feet. His lips twitch with barely contained mirth that makes his eyes sparkle.
Glancing at me as if I’m some spider she just noticed crawling across her shoe, Naomi shoves at Kendra and they flank Gabriel in unison. “Walk with us,” she begs.
“No thank you.” Looking pointedly at me he asks, “Are you ready, Alexia?”
I’m anything but ready. But I won’t admit it. He remains motionless, hand outstretched, waiting for me to surrender my bag to him. The cheerleaders are hovering and in a fit of impulsiveness, I sling my backpack at Gabriel in an enthusiastic arc that nearly knocks Naomi down. Choking back a giggle, I enjoy the rush of satisfaction as she stumbles backwards.
Kendra rushes to her friend’s aid as Gabriel catches my carelessly flung bag. Disapproval radiates from his eyes and the tight set of his lips, but I don’t care. In this strange new world where I have to suffer perky cheerleaders and perfect boys, it feels good to lash out. As Jonah brushes past me, I see the smirk on his face. His halo has lightened and I realize he gets it.
Shooting daggers with her eyes, Naomi stomps past us dragging Kendra by the arm. “Bitch,” she snarls.
“Was that really necessary, Alexia?” The disappointment in Gabriel’s eyes fuels my mood.
“Yes,” I answer, feeling defiant and perversely happy.
With a soft shake of his head, he asks, “Are you ready for our next class?”
The smile freezes on my face as the realization that I have English next sinks in. The knowledge causes instant cramping and I regret having eaten. My heart sharply accelerates in anticipation as my legs turn to rubber. Mr. Creepy’s sickening behavior speeds through my mind blurring the present surroundings.
The scene before me goes fuzzy ar
ound the edges. Solid objects start to dissipate as the floor tilts, pitching up to meet me at an impossible angle. Then, everything vanishes.
CHAPTER 3
Before I can crumple to the ground, Gabriel catches me. “Hey,” he soothes. His mouth brushes against my ear. “If you’re not feeling well, I can take you home. Right now. Do you want to go?”
Everything’s spinning in a way that makes me want to lie down or put my head between my knees at the very least. If it weren’t for Gabriel holding me upright I’d be splayed out on the floor, out cold and making a total spectacle of myself. Again, he asks if I want to leave—I can’t help feeling he knows more than he’s saying—but I shake my head. Something within me stubbornly refuses to take him up on his offer, despite its appeal.
“At least lean on me until you catch your breath. Here.”
With a nod, I sag against him, allowing myself a rare moment of comfort. But it feels too indulgent. My self-preservation kicks in as I admit to myself I can’t afford to draw strength from him, even in this one instance. Pushing against the lean muscle of his chest, I manage to stand on my own two feet.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just light-headed for a sec. I probably should’ve packed a better lunch. Come on.”
For one moment Gabriel doesn’t let go, he just examines me gravely. Behind his extraordinary eyes, a struggle wages that I can’t decipher. Then his grip loosens as he quietly says, “Okay.”
Placing one foot in front of the other, I begin to walk. I’m both terrified and relieved that English is in the same wing, on the same floor as the cafeteria, since I don’t think I could manage stairs in my present state. As we enter the hall, Mr. Creepy’s classroom looms at the end of it like a gaping black hole.
Gabriel gives me my space, but his fingertips press sharply into my spine. His free hand fists tautly at his side. As we move, he whispers, “Let’s not sit up front for this one, okay?” Again I wonder what he knows and how, but I’m too preoccupied to confront him.
Later… after…
Dipping my head in agreement, I try not to imagine the trials of the upcoming hour. I don’t glance at Mr. Creepy as we enter, but I feel his halo, his sickening attention, as Gabriel guides me to the far left seat of the third row. “Scoot closer to the wall,” he whispers.
I obey, looking down to watch Gabriel’s faded jeans settle next to me. Below the din of the class, I hear the gentle scrape of the desk as Gabriel draws himself to me until our knees touch. Staring at the expertly frayed white ends of his expensive jeans as they flop haphazardly about his tan suede boots, I concentrate on counting the individual fibers that make up each twisted end. And I wait.
Off to my right, I hear a boy complain, “Hey that’s my seat, dude.”
Dismissively, Gabriel replies, “Not anymore, dude. Go sit somewhere else.”
The class is called to order. As it gets quiet, I raise my head to see Mr. Creepy eyeing me critically from behind his desk. His halo—while as dark and disgusting as the previous day—doesn’t have quite the same impact. When he contemplates the boy beside me, his face pinches.
“Mr. Kustosz, I presume.”
Gabriel regards him impassively. Stoically. “Yes, sir.”
“You missed my class yesterday, Mr. Kustosz. Why?”
“I got delayed.”
“Coming from where?”
“Los Angeles.”
He calculates. “Hmmm.”
Around us, the class whispers about the golden boy from the Golden State. In the distraction, Mr. Creepy’s cunning eyes slide sideways to bore down on me. “Alexia, please come sit up front.”
Gabriel’s hand seeks mine under my desk becoming my anchor.
“Now Alexia.” The teacher’s voice holds a faint whine as he indicates the far corner seat in the empty front row. “Up here, please.”
I squeeze Gabriel’s hand and he reciprocates so hard I’m afraid one of us will break. I bite my lip against the pain, but when I glance to him, his face appears untroubled.
Mr. Creepy continues to stare at me, his arms crossed disapprovingly.
Although I’m trembling with fear, I don’t move. Not that Gabriel would let me go even if I wanted to, which I don’t. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jonah leaning in, paying rapt attention to our interaction.
When Gabriel speaks for me, his voice is deceptively smooth and doesn’t betray the iron grip he has on my body. “Alex is fine, Mr. Abernathy. Please continue with today’s lesson.”
Gabriel’s halo has grown bigger, brighter than before. Seeming to encompass both of us, it’s nearly white and visibly bristling. All I can think of is righteous anger, but it makes no sense to me even though I’m seeing it with my own two eyes. Inexplicably, I feel safe—nearly at peace—inside the protection of Gabriel’s burning halo.
Unaccustomed to being challenged, Mr. Creepy continues to stare Gabriel down. After a few seconds, his eyes narrow into snake-like slits as he opens his mouth to speak. Then he seems to change his mind. His nonexistent lips snap shut as he changes tactics. Mr. Creepy stands and makes a big show of strolling around his desk, stopping to casually lean against it with his hip.
“Well I certainly cannot teach to an empty first row.” He throws his hands up acting baffled, as if he has reached an impasse. Slowly he searches the class for a target. When he finds his prey, his eyes glimmer with perverse excitement. “Becke Finch,” he beckons. “Come sit up here.”
I wince because I didn’t know Becke was in this class. Suddenly, I feel protective of the quiet girl with frizzy red hair and lemon chiffon halo. Turning to look behind my row, I see Becke loosely gather her things and shuffle forward to the far right seat in the first row.
“Good girl, Becke.” Mr. Creepy smirks. “Any other volunteers?” When Kendra Douglas practically runs from the back of the class to sit front and center, he beams at her. “Thank you Kendra.”
With a triumphant glare toward Gabriel and me, he begins to teach. For the next fifty minutes, we’re ignored as he divides his attentions between the two girls in the front row. But it’s Becke I watch, because Mr. Creepy has singled her out in my stead. Hovering around her, he lingers.
After English, Gabriel keeps his body between Mr. Creepy and me as we exit. I expect this. What is unexpected is Jonah, who goes out of his way to circle around behind us. With surprise, I realize he’s getting my back. His way of making amends, maybe?
Escaping English unscathed makes me feel buoyant. In the hallway, my face cracks in a huge, spontaneous grin. There’s a bounce in my step as I walk down the hall with Gabriel fast at my side.
On the way to PE, I wonder if Gabriel will accompany me into the girl’s locker room and how I’m going to play badminton with Gabriel’s hand pressed against my back. The thoughts make me giggle.
Gabriel inclines his head to study me. “What?”
“Nothing.” I bite down on my lip, stopping as we reach the entrance to the girls’ locker room to smile at the boy who has stuck closer to me than my own shadow.
He smiles back, trying to coax the information out of me. “Please tell me?”
Before slipping inside, I plant a big ol’ spontaneous kiss on his cheek. “See you in class, Gabriel.”
My last glimpse of him is standing in the doorway, dazed and dreamy, his hand over the spot on his cheek where my lips have recently been.
*
Since it’s our second day of school, we spend most of the period learning the rules of badminton. At one point Gabriel leans in and whispers, “How hard can it be? Drop and swat—like flies.”
His accompanying gestures look more like he’s trying to hit a one handed home run. And I reply, “I pity the flies you swat.”
At the end of class, there are about ten minutes left to volley. We’re asked to partner up, and Gabriel’s hand slides possessively across my back, before Naomi can get her clutches on him. As we swat the birdie back and forth, I’m pleased to find out he has a competitive streak.
We rally, our volleys closing the distance between one another, our strikes getting more vicious with each return. Then, somehow, Gabriel manages to turn badminton into a contact sport, and we wind up in a tangled heap on the floor with Coach Mann and her whistle looming over us.
As Gabriel helps me to my feet, I can’t help but notice how amazing he looks after a little exertion. Up to now I’ve only seen him looking fantastic in expensive looking jeans and muted, button down shirts. But he looks incredible in gym clothes, too. Longish basketball shorts and a tank top display his lean, well-defined muscles coated with a fine sheen of sweat that makes his tan skin glisten. Cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, he grins impishly at me while raking his fingers through his damp hair.
I’m not the only one who stares at him. Every girl in the room and at least a few of the boys, admire his teenage male perfection. Even Coach Mann succumbs when Gabriel apologizes for our scuffle, placing all the blame squarely on himself. “Sorry Coach,” he explains with an ‘aw shucks’ shrug. “I don’t like to lose—and she was kickin’ my butt.”
She responds to his confession with a goofy, girlish grin. “No need to apologize, Gabriel. Healthy competition is a good thing.”
Just like that, he’s forgiven—worshiped. And while a minute ago I felt the lightness of being in his glow, my heart now plummets as I understand Gabriel’s world is galaxies away from my own. His world’s bathed in golden brilliance while I survive in the shadows trying to hide from the dark. I’ve known him less than twenty four hours and already I’m changed. So I caution myself that I can’t learn to rely on him. And no matter what, I can’t let myself—not even in secret—fall in love with him.