by Megan Linski
I shrug and say, “I’m fine. Something scared me in the woods.”
“Was it a bear?” she asks, concerned.
“No. I don’t know what it was.” Not a lie. “I just got scared and ran back.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not hurt.” She sets the food down on the table. “Eat up. We’ll have to be quick if we want to get to town before the stores close.”
I sit down at the table, trying to act like everything is normal as I begin eating. What was that thing in the woods that saved me? One thing’s for sure, it wasn’t normal, like anything I’d ever seen.
Isolde chatters on through dinner while I’m immersed in my thoughts. I add in all the proper responses when she asks me a question, but really, I’m far away. I know how to appear like I care about living. If I’m really honest with myself, I could really care less.
I want to like her. I really do. But I have a plan, and part of it doesn’t include getting close to her.
If I’m honest with myself, Isolde is just one more foster mom on a huge list of disappointments.
*
I barely know how to use makeup, but I smeared some on before I got to school and threw on an outfit resembling what I think teenagers up here wear.
It seems I’ve made the right choice, as it looks like a hoodie and jeans are the standard uniform in the north, completely outfitted with sneakers, a backpack, and topped off with a load of unflinching realism.
Heaven High School barely has a hundred kids, and only six or so teachers. Everyone pretty much takes the same classes, just at different times of the day. It’s so different compared to Pioneer, where there were thousands of kids and I was able to take whatever I wanted. You could be invisible in a student populace that large. Not so here. Guess that’s what you get for living in the middle of nowhere.
Whatever. It’s just one more year, I think, shoving my bag upward on my shoulders. I try to keep my head down and stay out of the way, but it’s impossible. I’m sure most of these kids have known each other since grade school, and they don’t get many newcomers around here. I’m fresh meat.
There are people whispering when I find my locker. I try to ignore the gazes, but my hand fumbles nervously with the spines of my textbooks while I try to to grab them from the shelf.
I end up dropping them all over the floor. Shit. The giggles that chorus around me make my face glow bright red.
“Hey,” a silken, warm voice asks.
I look up from my mess and see a pair of gentle, brown eyes gazing directly at me. I can’t really call the one who’s standing beside me a boy, because he’s more of a man. Broad shoulders, a thick jawline, and a pronounced nose are set off by tanned skin and a mess of dark hair, all put together underneath a leather jacket and ripped jeans.
This guy looks like he just stepped out of a Hollister catalog. Talk about sexy.
“Hi,” I say, letting out a breath. I scowl at my books and say, “Not exactly making a great first impression, am I?”
“Here.” He stoops down and collects my books for me, setting them back in my arms. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone messes up on their first day.”
“Oh, so I’m messing up then?” I ask, teasing him.
“No!” He starts. “That’s not what I meant. I… uh…”
As I raise an eyebrow and give him a coy grin, he relaxes. “Sorry. Let me start over. I’m Thames.” He gives me a broad smile and extends his hand. I grin back, taking it lightly and shaking it.
“Nice to meet you, Thames. I’m Cassia.” When I touch his hand, I notice it’s incredibly hot, the heat transferring from his thick hand to my small, cool one. “Wow! You okay? You feel like you have a fever or something.”
“It’s no big deal.” He laughs. “I’m really hot.”
“I can see that,” I mutter, and Thames blushes. I’m astonished at his shyness. Usually, guys like him would eat up the flattery. They’re used to getting the attention from girls, but Thames seems like he’s new to it. I guess when you go to a school where you’ve known everybody since they’ve been in diapers, you can’t see them as anything more, no matter how attractive they turn out to be.
I’m not beyond a little flirting. It’s always harmless, anyway. I never stay in one place long enough to have a boyfriend, but I should probably go easy on him.
“Do you know your way around?” I ask, shifting the books. “I know it’s a small school, but I’m a little lost.”
“Let me see your schedule.” Thames takes the sheet from me and looks it over. “You have Chemistry your first hour. That means you’re with me.”
“Great.” The tension leaves my shoulders. Thames seems really nice. It’ll be easier having an ally.
“I’ll walk you there.” Thames takes my side a little too eagerly, as we head down the hall. I notice people are talking about us as we walk into class together. A woman at the head of the room watches me as Thames and I take the desks near the back of the room.
“Good morning, class. I’m Mrs. Rorick. Welcome to your first day of senior year,” she starts. There’s a bit of cheering, and she smiles. “Yes, we’re almost done. Normally I wouldn’t introduce myself, as most of you have had me since your freshman year, but we have a new student.”
She gazes coyly at me like a cat, and I feel vastly uncomfortable as all eyes turn on me. “Please, dear, tell us your name, so we may get to know you.”
Swallowing a lump of nervousness in my throat, I rise from my seat and say, “Hi. I’m… Cassia Delamore. I came here from Ann Arbor.”
“Ann Arbor! How nice. I suppose your parents moved here to take part in the logging business?” Rorick beams.
I bet in her entire career of teaching she’s never been wrong on that one, because who else would move up here for any other reason? Of course it’s me that’s here to burst her bubble. “No. I’m a foster kid,” I say, voice hollow.
“Oh.” Mrs. Rorick blinks. “I see. Very well, then. Welcome to Heaven, Cassia.”
Rorick turns back to the class like nothing has happened and says, “Please turn to page three-hundred in your textbooks so we may begin.”
What a disaster. I fall back in my seat, hands shaking as the class opens their books. Thames leans in and says, “You handled that pretty well.”
“I feel like I just got thrown into a shark tank,” I whisper back.
“You’ll be all right. People up here are pretty friendly,” Thames informs me. “You’ll see.”
After a fifteen-minute lecture Rorick gives us worksheets, along with a set of vials and an assortment of chemicals. Thames and I cluster around my desk and work on the experiment, me with my back to the class so I don’t see them staring at me.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I start after he’s been quiet for a while. “How did I end up here?”
“I didn’t want to be rude.” He glances up once before returning his attention back to the vials. “You don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t wanna talk. Simple as that.”
“Thanks,” I say, relieved.
“We’ve all got our stuff we gotta deal with, and it’s your own business,” Thames says, shrugging. “My baggage is probably just as heavy as yours.”
I’m wondering what kind of dirt Thames is hiding when he moves his arm, and the vials we’re working with spill all over the place. I try to jump out of the way, but most of the liquid soaks onto my shirt.
“Damn! I’m so sorry!” Thames fumbles for the glasses, trying to put them upright.
“It’s okay, Thames,” I say, holding out my shirt as the rest of the class snickers. It’s completely ruined. I jump to my feet and ask, “Mrs. Rorick, may I go to the restroom?”
“Very well, Miss Delamore,” Rorick says. “But hurry back.”
I duck my head behind my hair and try not to run outside. Thames’ face is miserable as I head out. I feel sorry for making him feel bad. My lip quivers as the door closes behind me. Thankfully, the hallway is empty.
Cheer up, Cassia. It’s j
ust a bad day. Not a bad life. I take in a deep breath and try to steady myself so the tears won’t fall. I lean against a locker and wipe away a stray tear with the back of my hand. Just stay strong.
A shadow diverts my attention. My head whips to the side as a glorious light encompasses me. Just down the hallway and before a large window there’s the figure of a tall, sturdy man, surrounded by a circle of protective light.
I can’t make out his features with the halo surrounding him. But somehow, I’m convinced that this is the creature that saved me in the woods last night. The light surrounding him is exactly the same as that which encompassed the wings.
“Hey!” I cry. I push myself off the lockers and break into a jog. The figure sees me coming and flees in the other direction, the light following. He’s fast, but I’m determined to catch up. I increase my strides to a sprint, hoping none of the teachers come out and catch me.
“I just want to say thank you!” I yell. I whip around a staircase, chasing the light into an empty classroom. The being is boxed in, walls on all sides and me blocking the only exit.
“Ha! Cornered!” I smirk. “Nowhere to go!”
As I advance closer, the halo only grows. I have to shield my eyes as I come closer, but I have to know what it is. My trembling hand stretches before me, caressing the fringes of the magnificent halo, fingers nearly stroking perfect skin.
But before I can reach out to touch him, whatever he is, he vanishes. Completely.
I know living with Eric made me insane. But I’m not that crazy.
My hand is still frozen in the position it was when the specter vanished. All the light’s gone from the classroom, and it feels like the warmth is as well.
The bell rings, snapping me out of it. I scramble to look at my schedule for my next class.
It’s History. I exit the empty classroom and force my way through the crowds of kids, too preoccupied to pay attention to their curious glances. What was it that I saw back there? Am I just imagining things? Is all the stress of moving to yet another place getting to me? Or is what I saw real?
Thankfully, Rorick isn’t in her classroom when I return to get my stuff. I grab my backpack and hustle to my next class just before the final bell rings.
“Hey. You never came back to Chemistry,” Thames says, waving me over when I enter History.
“We have another class together? Sweet,” I say, and he grins. One less class I have to worry about being alone in.
I take the seat next to his, and he asks, “Did you get the stain out of your shirt?”
“Huh?” I had forgotten all about it. I look down, and see that it’s permanently dried into the cashmere. Great. “No. I guess not.”
He narrows his eyes. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Yeah.” I nod my head methodically.
“You sure?” he narrows his eyes. “You were gone for a really long time.”
I bite my lip. “Okay. It’s kind of weird, but I saw… something. Something in the hallway.”
“What kind of something?” Thames starts, and leans forward. He seems immensely interested. And a bit too concerned.
“Probably just my eyes playing tricks on me,” I say vaguely. “I think.”
“Cass, what did you see?” he asks abruptly.
I pause. I don’t like people calling me Cass. It’s one of my pet peeves when strangers give me nicknames. But when Thames says it, it’s okay. It makes me want to be honest.
“I don’t know. It was just a bunch of light,” I finally confess. I shake my head. “Whatever. It was nothing.”
I don’t want to lose the only friend I’ve made here by making him think I’m unstable. I open my book and pretend to be reviewing the syllabus I printed off yesterday.
Thames seems worried. His brow is furrowed when the teacher starts the lecture. All throughout the session, it stays that way.
The next couple hours go by in a blur. Calculus is boring, but during gym, I make a successful spike at volleyball that hits a snarky-looking prep in the head. I feel bad, but directly afterwards a gaggle of three excited girls grab me and drag me to the lunchroom before I can say I’m sorry.
“Did you see the look on Veronica’s face when you smacked her with that ball?” a stylish, pretty black girl says eagerly as she clutches my arm, grinning gleefully. “It was like Christmas!”
“I wanted to apologize,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to hit her.”
“You really shouldn’t,” a honey-haired plain girl clips. “She’s rotten.”
“Completely awful,” the goth adds. “You made our day. I’ve wanted to do that since kindergarden. You’re like, my hero.”
They plop me down at a circular table, tell me their names in a flash, and launch into a detailed conversation about makeup sales online, acting like I’ve always been part of the group. Thames was right. The people up here are nice.
“Anything tested on animals does not go on my face,” Sydney the goth says as she stabs her salad, which I notice doesn’t have any meat.
“What about you, Cassia? What are shade of lipstick are you wearing? It looks like Mary Kay,” the blonde Emalee asks nicely, holding up a napkin to my lips to compare.
“Oh, um…” I stall. “I actually borrowed it from my foster mom. I don’t know what color it is.”
“Whatever it is, it’s the perfect color,” Sydney gushes.
I don’t care that these girls seem superficial. Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that. Besides, at Pioneer I usually ate in the bathroom. Anything beats eating a sandwich on the porcelain throne.
“So we see you’ve been hanging out with the big bad boy,” the trendy Lavonne teases, smacking my shoulder. “Well done. I knew someone would break though that tough exterior eventually.”
“Who?” I ask, totally lost.
“Thames Deacon,” Sydney subs in. “Doesn’t let a lot of people in. As far as we know, you’re the first.”
“He came up to me,” I say, baffled. “Is that not normal?”
“Thames usually keeps to himself. He’s really quiet,” Emalee says. “It’s surprising that you got him to open up on your first day.”
“Where is he now?” I ask, searching around the room for him.
“Oh, Thames usually rides his bike during lunch,” Sydney says.
“His bike?” I ask, thinking of a ten speed.
“His motorcycle,” Emalee clarifies. “He won’t be able to ride it much longer. Snow’s coming in soon.”
“Who does he usually sit with?”
“No one.” Sydney shrugs. “Thames does his own thing.”
“When he shows up to class.” Lavonne snickers.
“Nobody can skip their first day of senior year,” Emalee insists. “Not even bad boys like Thames.”
I fiddle with my sandwich. Thames didn’t come off that way to me. Yeah, maybe he dressed the part of a bad boy, but cold and distant? He didn’t seem either.
“Oh, great, here comes the moral police,” Sydney moans. “Just what we need.”
I follow Sydney’s eyes to the other side of the cafeteria. A group of kids are setting up a long table and putting stacks of t-shirts on it.
“Local Key Clubbers. Here to ruin everyone’s fun,” Sydney complains.
“They help a lot of people,” Emalee says defensively. “Cut them a break.”
“All I’m saying is it’s irritating to have a bunch of do-gooders around, acting like they’re better than everyone else because they do some charity work,” Sydney replies.
“You just don’t like them because they voted down your vegan fundraiser,” Emalee quips back, and Sydney snaps her mouth shut.
The table has almost lost my attention until I see someone. It’s a guy, but not just any guy. He looks like someone who descended from paradise. He’s picturesque, with blond hair and pale green eyes. He’s tall, wearing a letterman jacket over a jersey. Football player, maybe?
“Hold on, guys,” I say. “I’ll be rig
ht back.”
I get up and head toward the table. The boy only seems to get more attractive with each step. He’s got a face like a movie star, handsome and masculine. Geez, does this school have a thing for producing incredibly hot guys? There were thousands of boys at Pioneer, but none of them were half as good looking as the dude in front of me.
“Hey,” he says when he notices me. His voice is strong and musical. “I haven’t seen you around before. How are you?”
“My name’s Cassia. I transferred here from down state,” I tell him. “And I’m just fine, thanks.”
“Nice to meet you, Cassia. I’m Cairo.”
Cairo. A perfect name for a perfect guy. My hands fiddle with the t-shirts. “So you’re part of the Key Club?”
“Yeah. I like helping people.” He grins, and I get a flash of white teeth. I thought only celebrities could have that perfect of a smile.
“That’s good.” I can’t seem to stop staring at him. His gaze is somewhat hypnotic. He pops a quirky smile. I force my eyes downward, but when I do, I let out a squeak of excitement. They’re selling bright green sweaters with cute owls and the Heaven High School initials on them. Cairo’s smile grows broader, and my cheeks redden.
“You like owls?” he asks, moving around the table and next to me. My heartbeat quickens.
“Kind of obsessed with them, actually.” I pick up the sweater and observe it. Just my size. It’s such an uncommon thing for me to have new clothes. Isolde got me some yesterday but I chose boring, standard jeans and t-shirts that were inexpensive because I felt bad for making her buy me stuff. I can’t remember the last time I got myself a present, just because. My insides burn with longing.
“Do you want it?” he asks. “Goes to a good cause. We’re raising funds for the children’s hospital.”
I press the sweater to my chest, as if it’s the most precious thing I could ever have. “I love owls. But I won’t be able to buy one.”
His eyes are on me as I slowly put it back. “I don’t have any money. Or I would.”
“That’s too bad.” His voice is sympathetic, but when I look at him, his green eyes have a peculiar gleam within them. “But keep your hopes up. Maybe you’ll get that sweater sooner than you think.”