by Carey Corp
“Me too!” Jonah’s fist pounds the table in agreement. His halo darkens a shade and whips around him, making a complete revolution before settling.
“Let’s hope it never comes to that,” I interject, eager to stop all talk of taking another’s life. “Let’s pray Mr. Creepy got Gabriel’s message loud and clear and believes it.”
“Do you think he’ll try to retaliate?” Derry asks. As he finishes his single sandwich, I slide him an Oreo and my grapes. He pops a grape into his mouth and makes a small face of indulgence.
“When—not if—Mr. Creepy retaliates,” Jonah confirms. “It won’t be obvious, or aimed at Gabriel. And probably not Alex either. He’ll probably go for Becke or Derrick.” As he reasons aloud, his arm wraps around Becke’s waist pulling her closer. Kissing her cheek, he murmurs, “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you, Babe.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to any of us.” Gabriel’s face is severe and cryptic. “But we should still be on our guard.”
Mr. Creepy’s class, however, is uneventful—not only that day but for the whole rest of the week. Despite the inactivity, none of us are foolish enough to believe we’re off the hook. Even if we did, the random activity spikes in his halo indicate otherwise.
The one good thing to come out of the Mr. Creepy confrontation is Gabriel and I clearing up the whole kissing thing. Now that my guardian has given in to his hormones, we spend much of the afternoon in the Fosters’ living room making up for lost time.
In my old life, I never dreamed about boys—much less having a boyfriend—but now… To be able to touch another person, to wrap my arms and my heart around him and know he’s mine is an amazing gift. It seems like an incredibly beautiful fairy tale.
But even in my happiest moments, like when Gabriel’s lips are softly exploring mine, dark thoughts stir in the back of my mind. Angels falling; the ominous, unforeseen event warranting my guardian; Gabriel leaving… I try to cling to the here and now, live in the happiness of the moment, but at the most unexpected of times I’m reminded many fairy tales end in tragedy. Unfortunately, I’ve seen too much darkness to make believe otherwise. Happily-ever-after is a myth.
During one marathon make-out session, as Gabriel and I take a breather, our lips swollen from one another’s kisses, I can’t help but vocalize some of the things bothering me. “After the incident with Mr. Creepy—when you told me you were sorry—I thought you were talking about crossing our boundaries.” Gabriel shakes his head back and forth, negating my words while confirming my mistaken assumption. “What did you really mean?”
He reaches for me, enveloping me in his strong embrace so my back’s cradled against the hard contours of his chest. “I meant I was sorry for deceiving you—for letting you believe I didn’t return your feelings—for not confessing everything that was in my heart.” His voice drops. “For not telling you I love you.”
My breath catches in my throat, as if the moment’s frozen in time. “You love me?”
“Yes.”
“I love you, too.” When he chuckles, I twist in his arms to better see his face. “What?”
“It’s just, this is so unexpected.”
“Falling in love?”
“My heart taking over. This isn’t supposed to happen.”
Only Gabriel can take me to unexpected heights one second, and then send me plunging over the edge to splatter below the next. His feelings for me are a complication making him weak and compromising his assignment. Biting at my lower lip, I feel the need to apologize. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that!” Placing his warm hand on my cheek, his fingertips smooth my furrows as he explains, “Love’s a gift, a miracle. You’re my miracle, Alexia.
“I fought against it as hard as I could. I thought it was a loss of control—but it’s not a loss of control. It’s a surrendering of control. So beautiful to lay yourself at the feet of another person, the person you love. I thought I understood—but this, us, you are a revelation to me.”
We kiss.
Love, all-encompassing, the most exquisite joy and piercing agony, always one and the same, flattens me. The more my love grows—and the happier I become—the more I fear it being ripped away. It’s as if Gabriel and I have reached our pinnacle, and while we remain at the top—for now—balancing in perfect harmony, there’s nowhere to go but down.
*
Winter continues to taunt, dumping snow then taking it away, leaving a gray dirty slush behind. As the school year continues, Kendra remains MIA. Mr. Creepy deliberately ignores us, while we warily wait for retaliation. Gabriel and I continue to kiss and to love one another, exploring the heights of our relationship and doing our best not to talk about the unknown—yet inevitable—event looming in our future.
By March, spring blesses the land with an early thaw. Flowers begin to bloom along our seven blocks, coaxed into life by the unseasonably warm sun. As I watch their tentative shoots growing into colorful buds, I reflect how this tease of weather is a cruel trick—lulling them into false hope before devastating them by the frigid cold that’ll inevitably follow.
And because their destruction is imminent—I want to tell them not to be so trusting. But hope’s in their nature, resilience in their design. Even if the reappearance of winter decimates them, they’ll return the following year as vibrant as ever. In the life cycle of perennials, gone for now doesn’t mean gone for good.
Like the flowers, the students of Midlands High have traded in their hoodies and jeans for t-shirts and shorts and the promise of changing seasons. A few of the more adventurous kids even sport flip-flops. Optimism permeates the school, and it’s easy to get sucked in—to trust in the here and now—and believe better days are coming.
The cafeteria’s a buzzing hive of activity, everyone making plans to take advantage of the weather while it lasts. As I unpack my hearty lunch, half a loaded turkey sandwich, grapes, Pringles, and Vitamin Water, Becke declares, “We should do something over the break.”
The following week is spring vacation, and although it promises a break from school, it also means a week without Derry. Turning to my best friend, I ask, “Are you making any progress with the Eccles?”
He grunts. “No! My stupid grades, I mean I’m getting ‘B’s and ‘C’s in practically everything except English. I got ‘D’s on the last four assignments, and I’ve been working my ass off in that class.”
Darkly, Jonah adds, “I don’t think your grades have anything to do with the quality of your work. English is one of my best subjects and I’ve gone from ‘A’s to ‘C’s.” There are nods all around as we each vocalize our own drop in grades. When Becke says it’s clearly Mr. Creepy’s way of getting back at us, Jonah’s reply is grim. “He shouldn’t be able to get away with the crap he pulls. Eventually, somebody’s got to stop him.”
“Let’s dwell on brighter topics.” Becke rubs her hands together as her halo swirls, enveloping her in gossamer lemon chiffon. “So what should we do over break?”
“Well.” Gabriel pauses getting our attention. “There’s a concert next week, and my father wants to get tickets for me and my friends as a belated birthday gift.”
“What band?”
He tells us, and I can’t help but squeal when he casually drops the name of one of my most favorite bands. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“No way!” Even Jonah’s excited. “And your dad’s just going to get us tickets?”
“Not just tickets,” Gabriel grins, clearly enjoying the moment. “Good tickets.” He pauses to give me a playful wink. “He doesn’t do anything half way.”
Becke frowns. “I’m sorry we missed your birthday. When was it?”
“I turned sixteen on the first day of the school year.” I almost laugh at his private joke, covering my chuckle at the last second with a cough.
Not quite convinced, Becke clarifies, “And this is a belated birthday present? School started eight months ago.”
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He just shrugs. “In that case, it’s a very belated present.” Before Becke can further pick apart his story, he inquires, “So five tickets?”
“Four.” Derry runs a hand over his shorn head. His face is so wistful I think my heart will break. “You know I can’t go, Gabe.”
Wanting to do something for him, however small, I slide my grapes toward him. It’s a lame gesture, but I don’t know what else to do. “Here.”
Glaring miserably at the fruit, he swallows loudly before pushing the bag back at me. “Not hungry. I don’t want your charity, Lexi. Or your pity.” He jumps from the table and nearly runs from the room. Giving Gabriel and our friends a somber glance, I start to follow hoping they understand my need to go after him, alone.
The long hall is empty when I get there—confirming Derry’s holed up in the bathroom. It’s the same place I would hide. When he finally emerges, I corner him. “What’s the matter with you? Is this about the concert?”
“No. I’m just a little cranky today. That’s all.” Then his stomach growls so loudly it can probably be heard in the next state. His face flushes crimson as he mumbles, “Sorry.”
“You said you weren’t hungry.”
“I’m fine.”
“All you ever bring is one peanut butter sandwich. What did you eat for breakfast?”
“A bowl of cereal.”
“What about dinner last night.” He’s thinking about lying to me, I can see it in his eyes. Glaring, as if I can wrench the truth from him with my mind, I wait. He turns away looking down at the scuffed vinyl floor, but tells me the truth. “I had a sandwich for dinner—and before you ask, it was peanut butter.”
“When’s the last time they fed you anything other than cereal or a peanut butter sandwich?”
Still staring at the ground he just shrugs. “At least they feed me, Lexi.”
His words cut through my heart like a knife because I know what it has been like for him. “Can you have more than one sandwich if you ask for more?”
Derry shakes his head. “Money’s tight. They’ve got all these extra mouths to feed, and taking care of us costs more than the State pays them.”
His words sound hollow, and I know he’s repeating what he’s been told on more than one occasion. I can also tell from his face he believes it. He doesn’t think he’s worth more. The knowledge wrenches my heart.
“That’s such crap Derry! Do you have any idea how well the State pays them to take care of you? Plus with the free babysitting, hand-me-down-clothes, and limited meals of peanut butter sandwiches, they’re probably turning a nice little profit. But you don’t have to stay. You can talk to—”
“Just stop, Lexi!” He folds his arms across his scrawny chest. “I’m not talking to anyone, okay? It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not! Your clothes don’t fit. They shave your head nearly bald and they’re not feeding you. You need to get—”
“I need to be where you are, Lexi. Do you know how many foster homes I got myself kicked out of to get here? Seven. Please, don’t do anything to make them send me away. I’m begging you.”
And I realize while my life has expanded to include a small circle of friends and family, Derry has only me.
The plea in his eyes mirrors the one in his voice, as he implores, “Let me stay where you are. Please?”
“Okay,” I nod, thinking furiously. “But you have to tell me if things get worse.”
“Okay.”
“Pinky promise?”
Lifting his little finger to mine, he declares, “I pinky promise.”
“And you have to let me share my lunch with you.”
As if in response to my condition, Derry stomach growls again. With a self-conscious grin he says, “I guess I could do that… As long as your offer includes Gabe’s Oreos.”
*
Just a few short days later, we’re officially on spring vacation, and while I should be excited, I’m too worried about Derry to focus on anything else. “Here,” I order when Gabriel and I meet up with him after school, “slip this into your bag.”
Obediently, he does so. “What is it?”
“Protein bars, nuts, jerky, and dried fruit. It should be enough to get you through the week.” Worried that raiding the Fosters’ panty will cause them to ask questions, most of the food has come from Gabriel. But I don’t tell Derry this for obvious reasons.
“Thanks.” He gives me a total body bear hug that crushes my heart. “Have fun at the concert. Take pictures.” With a last wistful look he walks away, a familiar and terrible pattern I’m helpless to break. Before I can give in to my despair, Gabriel takes me into his arms, uttering words meant to reassure me. A week suddenly feels like an eternity.
Despite the slow, dragging break and my worrisome separation from Derry, I do manage to fill the time. Mostly with Gabriel. There’s a lot of kissing, a little television watching, more kissing, lots of listening to music, and—well—kissing.
There’s also the concert. And I can hardly contain my excitement because I’ve never been to a concert before. Music’s a passion of mine. I mean I really love it, and this is my first live music experience unless you count the choirs which sang at the Center during the holidays. But they were haphazard and off key, as if charitable intentions excuse poor performance.
It doesn’t come up, but somehow Gabriel knows how momentous this is for me. Is it a coincidence his “mother” wanted to get us tickets to one of my favorite bands? Probably not. This is Gabriel’s way of doing something special in the indeterminate time we have together. My first live band—together with him.
The concert arena—a stadium, really—is huge! Bypassing the floor seats, we follow a yellow-shirted staff member to the VIP pit. Trading our tickets for little silver wristbands, we step right up to front and center, less than a foot from the stage.
Looking at us, Gabriel grins, the kind of open-mouthed smile that broadens his full lips and teases his dimples. His halo is breathtaking in its brilliance. “I hope you don’t mind standing,” he says with a modest shrug.
“Are you insane?” Jonah’s expression is part shock and part sarcasm, but underneath his sheer excitement’s obvious. His hair is freshly washed and he’s wearing a vintage Ramones t-shirt that looks great with his jeans and combat boots.
“This is fantastic!” Becke practically bounces on her toes as Jonah takes her in his arms and kisses the top of her auburn head. In one of her trademark multicolored peasant skirts and a bright green top, she has a natural style that enhances the vibrancy of her hair and the emerald of her eyes. As Jonah holds her, her lemon halo seems to engulf both of them in a shimmery glow. Raising my camera, I capture them in this moment.
Taking his cue from Jonah, Gabriel wraps his arms around me from behind. I feel his lips brush the top of my head as he asks, “Excited?”
Nestling against him, I angle my head to whisper in his ear. “You know I am. Thank you.” His unspoken reply is a soft, gentle kiss that goes on and on.
The lights cut out. As I turn back toward the stage, Gabriel’s whisper fills the darkness. He murmurs, “I love you.”
The opening acts are pretty good, but they can’t compare to the headliner. When the band I’ve been waiting for walks on stage, I’m thankful for all the cameras and flashing stage lights because I have to shield my eyes against their blazing bright halos. “Wow! They’re really bright!”
“Aren’t they?” The roar of the crowd drowns our conversation and we press our lips against one another’s ears to be heard. I’ve explained to Gabriel what I see, but it occurs to me I have no concept of how things appear to him. Being a Greater Seraph, I have no doubts he sees something amazing, miraculous even—but what?
“Do you see what I see? Halos?”
“It’s not exactly the same, more like an extra sense, more intuition or a strong conviction than sight. While you see colors and movement and have to put the pieces together, I instantly know whether people are good or evil, and t
o what degree. The more extreme, the more profoundly I am affected.”
“Affected how?”
“Righteous anger, rage, even ire—an immediate gut reaction to protect the weak and shut the evil down. But with goodness, I feel awe, joy, even exultation that can be equally as powerful.”
“What about me?” In order to be heard, I’m pressed up against his warm cheek, without the luxury of gazing into his expressive eyes.
When he answers, he pours all of his emotion into his voice, making it husky yet reverent. “The first time I laid eyes on you, Alexia, I thought—I mean, I felt—” He pulls back to stare at me for a moment, his bluer than blue eyes darkening as his pupils expand, his gaze so filled with heat that I’m certain I’ll melt. Then he presses his lips back against my ear, hard and close. “You were so beautiful I wanted to weep.”
Exquisite chills tremble across my body. And I want to respond, overwhelmed as I am, but before I can form coherent thought, Gabriel continues, “And each new morning you’re more beautiful than the day before.” Gently repositioning me, he teases, “You’re missing the concert.”
Grateful for the time to process, I turn back to the blinding brilliance of the stage. The lead singer stands right in front of me, close enough to touch. I let my thoughts tumble as he pulls me into his voice, and sings one of my favorite songs. A slow tugging ballad about the agony of happiness.
*
We’re standing on the sidewalk in front of the Fosters’—basking in the afterglow of the concert, and each other—when a tiny question wiggles its way up from my subconscious until I have to ask, “That day—when I was going to leave—why did I have to tell you my secret first?”
“Guardians aren’t supposed to reveal their true identity.”
“Like Superman?”
He laughs. “Sort of. Only in the most extreme circumstances can we reveal our divine nature.”
“I was an extreme circumstance?”
He rests his chin on my head until he’s speaking into my hair. “You were a necessity. I wanted to tell you that first day. When I look into your beautiful eyes, I want to tell you everything.”