“What?” Kian leaned against the tree, his disheveled hair blowing in the wind. For a micro-second I lost myself in his hazel eyes, and then I shook my head.
“I just wanted to be clear.”
“Clear about what?”
“About me and Dameon. We’re a thing.”
“You’re a thing now.”
“Have been since Monday. And I’m not sure where this thing is going, but I want to give it a shot.”
A grimace shot across his face. “I can’t believe you’re taking him seriously.” His hands gripped my shoulders. “You can’t be falling for him!”
“I am...and I just want to tell you that I choose him. I need you to stay out of our business.”
“I see that nothing I say will change your mind.”
“Nope.”
“Well then. I respect your decision.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll stay out of your way,” he said, his tone acrid, as the bell rang. But the twinkle in his eyes told me he didn’t mean it.
The rest of my classes were uneventful, one big blur until I got to fifth. When the fifth period bell was about to ring, I darted into the Journalism classroom just in time. Noticing Nathaniel in the back row, I smiled as I slipped into my seat near the wall. I kept my focus on the teacher, Mr. Zimmerman, as he introduced us to a new student, Nathaniel Harbour, from Washington. Mr. Zimmerman was an older man with a balding head and spectacles, and I got the distinct impression he used to be cute when he was younger...like eons ago, but aging didn’t do him justice. Adjusting my NOOK to the textbook for this class, I flipped open my assignment folder with the other hand.
“Is everyone ready to turn in their assignments?” Silence. “I realize under the recent circumstances some of you may need more time, and the deadline is extended until Friday, but I just wanted an idea of how many of you are ready.”
About half the class raised their hands. I wanted to...desperately. I had never failed to turn in an assignment in any of my classes. I didn’t want to start now. The debate waged war in my mind, whether or not I should write up what I had learned about Tommy’s death. The possible murderer, Clark. His motivations. The lack of reason for suicide on Tommy’s part. The strange silvery-black feathers found on the roof. (No, I’d have to leave that part out.) The newbies to the school and their opinion on the suicide. I could even incorporate Kian’s statement. What’d he say? ‘Not a who, but a what.’ That would turn heads. I’d get an A for sure.
But I couldn’t. Something inside nagged on me. Something did not add up. And I didn’t want to go around accusing perfectly innocent people. There was a strong possibility that Clark had nothing to do with this. I didn’t want to drag the notion of what the ‘what’ could be in Kian’s statement. No, if I were to do this I would need more information. Besides, I couldn’t be sure at all whether I still wanted to. Nathaniel had that look while shaking his head. He knew what I knew. At least, I thought he knew. He had paid attention on the roof.
“Ali?” Mr. Zimmerman quirked his brow and glared at me, disappointed.
“No, Mr. Zimmerman. I don’t have it yet.”
“Alright then, let us get back to our reading. Everyone turn to chapter twelve.” The NOOKS, Kindles and a few other eReaders flipped on and fingers began scanning the various screens.
Before class ended, Zimmerman waved me to his desk. Standing above him as he sat in the wooden chair made me feel taller, more authoritative. But the moment he spoke I went back to feeling like a little kid.
“I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You just seem...distracted. And you don’t have your assignment ready. That is not like you.”
I stood speechless. “I’m sorry...”
“No need to be sorry, Ali.” His tone sharpened. “There is a very good counselor at this school. She can help you through whatever it is you’re going through. Tommy’s death shocked us all.”
“Ummm... no really, I’m fine. I’m just real busy.”
“Are you sure?”
‘Yeah.” I nodded, spreading a smile of certainty across my face. In a way he had been right; my distraction did have to do with Tommy, but not in the way he concluded. Not in the way anyone concluded. Certainly not in any way a counselor could help me.
What I needed were more answers.
By the end of the day I had still not seen Dameon again. After first period, he had simply disappeared. As I was asking around, I ran into Sally Hoffe in the administration office. Short blond bob, blue eyes and a naive smile. Leaning over the counter, I gestured to her to come to me with a curling forefinger.
“Whatcha need?” Sally asked, eyes widening.
“I need to know what happened to Dameon. He vanished after English class this morning.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“The office received a call from his father. His mother is deceased.” She lowered her head as if in short prayer. “Seems his father needed Dameon to come home for a family emergency.”
“Emergency! What kind of emergency?”
“Don’t know. Father didn’t say.”
“Thanks.” I turned around from the office counter, dejected that Dameon wouldn’t have told me something, anything, before he left. I had thought we were making a real connection. But then, maybe he didn’t have time. At least I wasn’t being blown off.
“Say, why don’t you just call him?” Sally suggested cheerfully.
“Dameon has a cell? He told me he didn’t have one.”
“No, not a cell. His home phone.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I don’t have his number though.”
“Never mind, I’ll get it for you.” Sally rummaged through the files behind her and pulled Dameon’s records. “Got a paper and pen?”
I yanked the items out of my miniature backpack.
“555-6037.”
“Thanks, Sally. I owe you one.”
“Not a problem. It’s the least I could do after your brother Samuel helped us with that parking ticket.” I held the paper with Dameon’s home phone in my hands, and, as I had been struck with tunnel vision, everything else around me turned black.
Aftershock
After I tried calling Dameon for the third time Thursday I finally gave up. He hadn’t answered his home phone yesterday evening either. Thursday lunch grated on my nerves. Since I had announced my decision for Dameon, Kian kept quiet and only occasionally glanced up at me, looking like the weight of the world hung on his shoulders. The whole thing felt awkward.
So when I saw Dameon walk into the front doors of Millennium High on Friday morning, my heart skipped a beat. Swinging in behind him, the doors finally clicked shut, and everyone in the whole of the hallway turned to him as if his presence demanded their attention. I could feel a delicious heat radiating off his body. I wanted him even more, if possible.
“Dameon!” I scurried toward him, fighting the up-current of students flowing to their first class. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you. Called you like a gazillion times, and you never picked up.”
“Home phone?’
“Yeah.”
“I wouldn’t have. Wasn’t there.”
“What happened?”
He threw his arm around my neck, drawing me closer to him. He still wanted me, thank God, despite my clingy phone calls. My nose nestled between his shoulder and his lower ear, enjoying the fresh male smell of him. Like Swiss Chocolate, his temptation engulfed me.
We walked down the hallway like Sandy and Danny in Grease, with all the jealous eyes on us. I never felt higher; even weed couldn’t make me feel this high.
“I...had to go away with my father. Emergency.”
‘“I know. I spoke with the front office. Everything OK?”
“Sure.”
I didn’t want to press him on it, yet I still felt like I had gotten nothing out of him. Ho
w could he answer a question, without ever answering it? He did that all the time.
“So, you’re not going to tell me what happened? You don’t have to.” I leaned into him; the feel of the soft leather over my arm felt warm. My long locks draped over my left shoulder and cascaded to my breasts.
His silence told me no.
When we got to first period, we walked hand in hand to our seats. I never felt such envy of so many girls. No one could be certain just what we all liked about Dameon. Or lusted? His bad boy image? The fact that he never took crap from anyone, not even football players or teachers? Or perhaps that he seemed so aloof. The fact that I got him, the first girl at this school to snag him, made me feel...well, important. Popular even. Everyone talked about me. About what I wore; about what I did. Whispers quieted when I turned corners as eyes fell on me. Just what was it about me that Dameon liked so much? I wasn’t the only one asking.
In the middle of Mrs. Engstrom’s lecture, between us yawning and dropping our heads to our desks, Meredith Justin swung her silky blond hair from its ponytail and began combing. Stroking a stick of red over her lips, she puckered once before craning her neck back toward Dameon. Her freshly sprayed flowery perfume emanated from her supple neck, the kind of creamy-colored neck with such length and elegance that reminded us all of a swan.
“Are you getting all this?” She fluttered her lashes, and her green eyes glittered with her smile. Despite her arrogance, she really could be charming and stunning. I fidgeted in my seat. How could she? The temptress! As I glared at Meredith, my eyes could have burned a hole right through her perfectly fitted pine-green sweater.
“Sure.” Dameon looked up from his fix on me, and his eyes met Meredith’s. This was it. The moment of truth. If Dameon could withstand her flirtations, he truly had a fascination with me beyond natural explanation. He handed her his Kindle with the notes without so much as really seeing her. It was as if he looked right through her. Usually guys went all google-eyed around her, but Dameon kept his cool. And as soon as he handed her his Kindle, he returned his stare to me. Good God, the guy really did like me! I couldn’t explain it. No one understood it. But I didn’t care; I’d take it. I’d wanted him since the first time I had seen him several months ago.
At lunch, I finally felt like Dameon and I had some real time to talk. Five-minute hallway runs didn’t suffice, and classrooms offered no privacy. In his tight black jeans, he sat across from me at our usual table. A table cornered along the metal bars to the right of the cafeteria, acting as a barrier between it and the hallways and the chalk-white sidewall. With the halls empty, school couldn’t get more private than that.
Setting my tray of spaghetti in front of me I sighed.
“Something wrong?”
“I just...nothing.”
He shrugged with an ‘explain yourself’ expression.
“I just don’t know much about you is all. Like where were you the past two days? How come you don’t own a cell? Why did you move here? From where?” I could go on and on...like why do you always wear the same leather jacket? Or why do you detest Kian so much? Or what happened to your mother? But I didn’t want to get too personal, and those few questions would suffice, for now.
Stone-black eyes hit me. He appeared to be twisted in agony. Hooking my fingers around the tray I anticipated his response eagerly. Then a harsh sharpening rounded his eyes.
“I don’t have a cell because I don’t need one. Don’t know many people. We moved here from Washington because we had to get away from our old home. When mother died everything changed. The emergency had to do with family funeral arrangements.”
“You’re mother passed?” I said as if I didn’t know, because he should be the one to tell me, not the front office.
“Several months ago. Car accident.”
“I’m so sorry.” That explained a lot. Why he seemed so distant and emotionally closed off.
“Well, there you go. Happy?”
“I’m glad you opened up. I’m here for you. You can trust me.”
“Trust me enough that I can come over Saturday night?”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to Mom.” How could Mom turn him down now? He needed me, and her, in his life. His own mother was killed in a car accident. Mom could empathize; her husband had died suddenly. Dameon needed a mother figure, and Mom would be perfect for him. Certain Mom would approve now, I was grinning as the bell rang.
By fifth period, I had exhausted my mind and was dizzy with ideas on how to come out of Journalism without receiving an F for an uncompleted assignment. Slinking into my seat, I sighed in protest.
“Ali Maney.” Zimmerman hovered over me like my P.E. coach when he expected me to hit a ball harder than I could.
“I...”
“Ali and I are working on a project about the mayoral elections. We’ll have the final results on Monday,” Nathaniel interjected. He paid attention after all.
“Alright; I’ll expect the assignment Monday then.”
“Yes.” Nathaniel nodded with certainty, like he’d done this a thousand times.
“Thanks.” I whispered as Zimmerman moved away. I stopped biting the inside of my mouth. It was a perfect lie. The mayoral elections would not be concluded until after the weekend, and that gave us time to concoct a finished assignment. Why hadn’t I thought of it?
All through Journalism I passed notes back and forth to Nathaniel. I hadn’t written on actual paper in eons. Usually, notes were taken on eReaders or laptops. I crumbled the first note a bit in my hands as I laid it on his desk. Zimmerman had his back to us while he wrote on the white board, highlighting important facts from our reading assignment.
Taking the note in his hands, Nathaniel read.
Didn’t Zimmerman say you were from Washington?
He scribbled something and passed the note upside down back to me.
Yeah, why?
Dameon said he came from Washington, too.
So?
So, don’t you think it’s odd...that you, Kian, and Krysta all come from Washington as transfers and Dameon also transferred from Washington?
He shrugged as his doe-eyed expression dropped. I shoved another note onto his desk.
Did you all know each other?
His usual bronze hue paled as he passed back another note.
No, we must have lived in different cities. Besides, Kian didn’t really transfer from Washington.
He didn’t? Where then?
He’s from New York.
Why would he lie about it? He said you all were an adopted family?
Well, technically no. Krysta and I met him in New York after we left Washington. But the paperwork is in the mail. He is in the process of being adopted.
All of a sudden I became fascinated with Kian. The idea that he wasn’t exactly who he said intrigued me. Not in the same way bad boy Dameon intrigued me, but in a way that left my curiosity spinning. I had just assumed they all three came to New York together. But there was more to the story. I grabbed Nathaniel’s latest note just as Zimmerman turned around on his heel and hawk-eyed his class, as if he sensed suspicious activity. I held my breath. Minutes later, after ruffling through papers on his desk, he returned to the white board. I breathed.
Nathaniel read my inquisitive note...
So, he is from New York? And doesn’t have any biological parents?
A forlorn expression crossed Nathaniel’s face when he handed me the last note.
Yes and no. They died in a fire.
Amused that Kian had lived in the same city as me all our lives, I finally realized what Kian meant in the cafe when he said they were an adopted family. At first, the word ‘adopted’ didn’t really sink in, between all the talk of stoners and loosely spilled words and my obsession with Dameon. It didn’t really hit me that he had no parents. Kian lived on the difficult streets of New York with no real guidance other than maybe a foster family here and there. Then it occurred to me that Krysta and Nathaniel didn’t know their biolo
gical parents either. Suddenly, I felt very sad for the newbies.
When the bell rang for sixth period I plopped into my Calculus seat. Mathematically inclined, the whole nerd-persona didn’t work well for my popularity either. But somehow Dameon fixed that. More interested in sharing the latest news with my girlfriends than in derivatives and limits, I pulled out my cell and typed over my lap under my desk.
Jen and Mol,
OMG! Did you know that Kian’s parents died? Can you imagine! How long has he been living in foster homes? Shoveled around? And he is from New York, too!? I know; I assumed he was from Washington, because Nathaniel is from Washington, and they all seemed like one family.
Ali
As I watched Mr. Gasper play with his dark mustache in front of the white board, several students raised their hands. Honors class. We all wanted to say the answer first. Except me. I couldn’t get Kian out of my mind. Three transfers from Washington. All parentless, except Dameon apparently still had his father. One transfer from some another school in New York. And then Tommy dies, and I start seeing angels.
OMG! The angels came because of Tommy! I straightened my back in the chair. Because he died. Angels did that, didn’t they? To try to console the living from loss?
A message vibrated on my phone.
Ali,
Duh. This is news to you? Where have you been? Oh, yeah, fawning over Dameon. Kian has told us all about his parents. About the fire and how it took him so long to just feel normal again. That is why he couldn’t continue in his old school. Why he transferred here.
Molly
And then another one.
Ali,
I just don’t get you. First you blow us off and then Kian off...and now you are all fascinated. Which is it?
Jen
Why hadn’t I known this about Kian? Was I really so blinded by Dameon that I hadn’t even paid that much attention to my girlfriends or the newbies? Why did I all of a sudden care about Kian anyway? And then I had an Ah-ha moment. It was so obvious that I couldn’t imagine why I didn’t see it before.
She Speaks to Angels: YA Angel Thriller (AngelFire Chronicles Bk #1) Page 9