Before I could respond, Mr. Velt cleared his throat and looked daggers in our direction.
“Miss Harrison, I assume you are explaining to our new student the concept of covalent bonding.”
“Um, not exactly, Mr. Velt,” Molly replied. “I don’t want to bore her to death on her first day.”
I saw a vein throb on Mr. Velt’s forehead and realized I should probably intervene. I channeled a calming energy toward him and watched with satisfaction as he started looking less harangued. His shoulders seem to relax, and his face lost its livid hue and returned to a more natural shade. He looked at Molly and gave a tolerant, almost paternal chuckle.
“Your sense of humor is unfailing, Miss Harrison.”
Molly looked confused but was smart enough to refrain from further comment.
“My theory is he’s having a midlife crisis,” she whispered to me instead. Mr. Velt ignored us and busied himself setting up a projector slide. I groaned inwardly and tried to suppress a rising wave of panic. We angels were radiant enough in daylight. In the dark it was worse but concealable, but in the halogen light of an overhead projector, who knew what might happen. I decided it wasn’t worth taking the risk. I asked for permission to go to the bathroom and then slipped out. I hung around just outside, waiting for Mr. Velt to finish his presentation and switch the lights back on. The slides clicked sharply into place, and through the glass panel on the classroom door I could see that they demonstrated a simplified description of the valence bond theory. I was glad I wouldn’t have to study such basic things on a permanent basis.
“Are you lost?”
The voice came from behind, startling me. I spun around to see a boy lounging against the lockers opposite the classroom. Even though he looked more formal with his shirt buttoned, tie neatly knotted, and school blazer, there was no mistaking that face or the nut-colored hair flopping over vivid blue eyes. I hadn’t expected to run into him again, but now the boy from the pier was standing right in front of me, wearing that same wry smile.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said, turning away quickly. If he had recognized me, he wasn’t giving himself away. I hoped that turning my back on him, as rude as it seemed, might cut the conversation short. He had caught me unawares, and something about him made me unsure where to look or what to do with my hands. But he seemed in no hurry.
“You know, the more conventional way to learn is from inside the classroom,” he continued.
I was forced to turn back then and acknowledge his presence. I tried to communicate my reluctance to engage in conversation with a cool look, but when I met his eyes, something entirely different happened. I had an instant, gut-wrenching physical reaction as if the world were falling from under me and I had to steady myself to stop from falling with it.
I must have looked like I was about to pass out because he involuntarily put out an arm to catch me. I noticed the fine cord of plaited leather he wore around his wrist, the only item out of keeping with his otherwise traditional appearance.
My memory of him hadn’t done him justice. He had the striking good looks of an actor but without any trace of conceit. His mouth was curved into a half-smile, and his limpid eyes had a depth I hadn’t noticed the first time. He was tall and slender, but underneath his uniform I could make out the shoulders of a swimmer. He was looking at me as though he wanted to help me but didn’t quite know how, and as I stared back at him, I realized that his attractiveness had as much to do with his air of composure as his regular features and smooth skin. I wished I could come up with some witty retort to match his confidence, but I couldn’t think of anything.
“Just feeling a little light-headed, that’s all,” I mumbled. He took a step closer, still looking concerned.
“Do you need to sit down?”
“No, I’m fine now.” I shook my head decisively.
Reassured that I wasn’t going to faint, he held out his hand and flashed me a dazzling smile.
“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last time we met — I’m Xavier.”
So he hadn’t forgotten.
His hand was broad and warm. He held mine a fraction too long. I remembered what Gabriel had said about steering clear of risky human interaction. Warning bells sounded in my head as I frowned and pulled my hand away. It wouldn’t exactly be the wisest move befriending this boy with his ridiculous good looks and hundred-watt smile. The flutter in my chest when I looked at him told me I was already in hot water. I was learning to read the signals given out by my body and knew that this boy was making me nervous. But there was a hint of another feeling, one that I couldn’t identify. I backed away from him, toward the classroom door, where I could see the lights had just come on. I knew I was being rude, but I was too unsettled to care. Xavier didn’t look offended, just bemused by my behavior.
“I’m Bethany,” I managed to say, already halfway through the door.
“See you around, Bethany,” he said.
My face felt beet red as I came back into the chem lab, and Mr. Velt threw me an accusatory look for having taken so long in the bathroom.
By lunchtime I’d realized that Bryce Hamilton was a minefield of projector slides and other traps designed to ferret out undercover angels like me. In gym class I had a mild panic attack when I realized I was expected to change in front of all the other girls. They peeled off their clothes without a second thought and tossed them into lockers or onto the floor. Molly got her bra straps tangled and asked for my help, which I gave nervously, hoping she wouldn’t notice the unnaturally soft touch of my hands.
“Wow, you must moisturize like mad,” she said.
“Every night,” I replied lightly.
“So what do you think of the Bryce Hamilton crowd so far? Boys hot enough for you?”
“I wouldn’t say hot,” I said, puzzled. “Most of them seem to have a normal body temperature.”
Molly stared at me. She looked like she was about to snicker, but my expression convinced her I wasn’t trying to be funny. “Hot means good-looking,” she said. “Have you seriously never heard that before? Where was your last school — Mars?”
I blushed as soon as I understood the meaning of her original question. “I haven’t really met any boys yet,” I said, shrugging. “I did run into someone called Xavier.” Speaking his name aloud was strange. There was a cadence to it that made it sound special. I was glad the boy with the intense eyes and the floppy hair wasn’t a Peter or Rob. I’d hoped to sound casual bringing him up, but his name exploded into the conversation like a firework.
“Which Xavier?” Molly quizzed, all ears now. “Is he blond? Xavier Laro’s blond and plays on the lacrosse team. He’s pretty hot. I wouldn’t blame you for liking him, but I think he might already have a girlfriend. Or did they break up? I’m not sure; I could try and find out.”
“This one had light brown hair,” I interrupted her, “and blue eyes.”
“Oh.” Molly’s expression changed. “That would be Xavier Woods. He’s the school captain.”
“Well, he seemed nice.”
“I wouldn’t go for him if I were you,” she counseled. Her expression was all concern, but I got the feeling she expected me to take her advice no matter what. Maybe that was one of the rules in the world of teenage girls: “Friends are always right.”
“I’m not really going for anyone, Molly,” I said, but was unable to resist asking, “Why, what’s wrong with him?” It didn’t seem possible that the boy I’d met could be anything other than perfect.
“Oh, he’s nice enough,” Molly replied, “but let’s just say he’s got baggage.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, a whole heap of girls have been trying to get his attention for ages, but he’s emotionally unavailable.”
“You mean he’s already got a girlfriend?”
“He did have. Her name was Emily. But no one’s been able to comfort him since…” She trailed off.
“They broke up?” I prompted.
“How awful,” I said. “He would have been only…”
“Sixteen,” Molly finished. “He was pretty close with Henry Taylor as well — he spoke at the funeral. He was just getting over Emily when it happened. Everyone kinda expected him to break down, but he just shut off emotionally and kept going.”
I didn’t know what else to say. Looking at Xavier’s face, you would never have guessed the pain he must have endured, although now I remembered there was a slightly guarded look about his eyes.
“He’s all right now,” Molly said. “He’s still friends with everyone, still plays on the rugby team, and coaches the junior swimmers. It’s not like he can’t crack a smile, it’s just that relationships are sort of off-limits. I don’t think he wants to get involved again after the crappy luck he’s had.”
“I guess you can’t blame him,” I said.
Molly suddenly noticed that I was still in my uniform and her serious tone lifted. “Hurry up and get changed,” she urged. “What are you, shy?”
“Just a bit.” I smiled at her and disappeared into a shower cubicle.
My thoughts about Xavier Woods were cut off as soon as I saw the sports uniform I was expected to wear. I even contemplated crawling out the window to make my escape. It was completely unflattering; the shorts were too short, and the top rode up so much that I could hardly move without flashing my midriff. That was going to be a problem during games seeing as we angels didn’t have a navel — just smooth white skin, freckle and indentation free. Luckily my wings (feathered but paper thin) folded flat across my back, so I didn’t have to worry about them showing, but they were starting to cramp from lack of exercise. I couldn’t wait until the predawn flight in the mountains that Gabriel had promised us soon.
I tugged the top down as far as I could and joined Molly, who was at the mirror applying a liberal coating of lip gloss. I wasn’t sure why she needed lip gloss for gym class, but when she offered me the brush, I accepted, not wanting to appear ungracious. I wasn’t exactly sure how to use the applicator but managed to apply a fairly uneven coating. I assumed it was something that took practice. Unlike the other girls, I hadn’t been experimenting with my mom’s cosmetics since I was five. I hadn’t even known what my human face looked like until recently.
“Rub your lips together,” said Molly. “Like this…”
I mimicked her and found that the motion smoothed out the gloss, making me look less clownlike.
“That’s better,” she said approvingly.
“Thanks.”
“I guess you don’t wear makeup very often.”
I shook my head.
“Well, it’s not like you need it. That color suits you though.”
“It smells amazing.”
“It’s called Melon Sorbet.” Molly looked pleased with herself, then became distracted by something and began sniffing the air.
“Can you smell that?” she asked.
I stiffened, gripped by a sudden rush of insecurity. Was it me? Was it possible that we smelled terrible to people on earth? Had Ivy sprayed my clothes with some sort of perfume that was socially unacceptable in Molly’s world?
“It smells like… like rain or something,” she said. I relaxed instantly. What she could smell was just the characteristic scent that all angels carried, and rain was a pretty good description on her part.
“Don’t be a ditz, Molly,” one of her friends said. Taylah, I thought her name was, recalling earlier rushed introductions. “It’s not raining in here, duh.”
Molly shrugged and tugged on my sleeve, leading me out of the locker room and into the gym where a blonde fifty-something woman with a sun-ravaged face and Lycra shorts was bouncing on the balls of her feet and shouting at us to drop and give her twenty.
“Don’t you just hate gym teachers?” Molly said, rolling her eyes. “They’re so… up all the time.”
I didn’t reply, but given the steely-faced look of the woman and my lack of athletic enthusiasm, we probably weren’t going to get along very well.
Half an hour later we had run ten laps of the court, done fifty each of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and lunges, and that was only the warm-up. I felt sorry for the other students who were staggering around with chests heaving and shirts damp with sweat. Angels didn’t get tired; our energy was limitless and so didn’t need to be conserved. We didn’t perspire, either; we could run a marathon and not produce a single drop of sweat. Molly became suddenly aware of this.
“You’re not even puffing!” she said accusingly. “Jeez, you must be really fit.”
“Or use a really good deodorant,” added Taylah, tipping the contents of her water bottle down her cleavage. It attracted the attention of a gaggle of boys nearby, who gaped at her. “It’s getting hot in here!” she teased, parading past the boys with her now see-through shirt until the gym teacher noticed the spectacle and charged over to us like a raging bull.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, except that I found myself scouring the corridors, hoping to catch another glimpse of the school captain, the boy called Xavier Woods. Given what I had learned about him from Molly, I was feeling flattered that he had paid me any attention at all.
I thought back to our meeting on the pier and remembered marveling at his eyes — such a brilliant, startling blue. They were the kind of eyes you couldn’t look into for too long without going weak at the knees. I wondered now what might have happened had I accepted his invitation and sat down beside him. Would we have talked while I tried my hand at fishing? What would we have said?
I shook myself mentally. This wasn’t why I had been sent to earth. I made myself promise that in the days that followed I wouldn’t think about Xavier Woods at all. If I chanced to see him, I would ignore him. If he tried to speak to me, I would give token answers and move away. In short, I wouldn’t allow him to have any effect on me.
Needless to say, I was to fail spectacularly.
4
Earthbound
When the last bell sounded, I grabbed my books and literally made a run for it, eager to avoid the teeming halls. I’d been jostled, interrogated, and scrutinized enough for one day. Despite my efforts I hadn’t managed to find a single quiet moment; during my breaks Molly had dragged me off to meet her friends, who all shot questions at me like rounds of machine-gun fire. Despite that, I’d made it to the end of the first day without serious mishap, and I was pleased with my achievement.
I loitered under the palms outside the school gates, waiting for Gabriel. I leaned back and rested my head against the tree’s cool, jagged trunk. I was awed by the earth’s varied vegetation. Palms, for one, struck me as such strange-looking creations. They reminded me of sentries with their lean, straight trunks and their exploding branches that looked just like the plumed helmets of palace guards. As I stood there, I watched the students tossing their bags into cars, peeling off their blazers, and looking visibly more relaxed. Some were heading off in the direction of the town to gather at local cafés or favorite haunts.
I didn’t feel relaxed; I was suffering from information overload. My head buzzed as I tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the space of a few hours. Even the limitless energy we had been created with couldn’t prevent the creeping feeling of exhaustion that was coming over me. I wanted nothing more than the comfort of home.
I spotted Gabriel making his way down the main steps, closely followed by a small gaggle of admirers, mostly girls. My brother might have been a celebrity for the attention he attracted. The girls lingered several yards behind him, trying hard not to appear conspicuous. Judging by his appearance, Gabe had managed to maintain his composure and poise throughout the day, but I c
ould see from the hard set of his jaw and the slightly ruffled look of his hair that he was ready to go home. The girls stopped speaking mid-sentence when he glanced in their direction. I knew my brother and guessed that despite his apparent composure, he would never welcome such attention. He seemed embarrassed rather than flattered by it.
Gabriel was nearly at the gates when a shapely brunette stumbled in front of him in a poorly executed attempt at an accidental fall. In one smooth movement Gabe caught her in his arms just before she hit the ground. There were audible gasps of admiration from the watching students, and I saw some of the other girls bristle with jealousy at not having come up with the idea themselves. But there was little to warrant their envy: Gabriel merely steadied the girl, replaced the items that had fallen from her bag, wordlessly picked up his battered briefcase, and kept walking. He wasn’t being unfriendly; he simply wouldn’t have seen the need for any exchange of words. The girl stared wistfully after him and her friends crowded around, hoping some of the glamour of the moment might rub off on them.
“You poor thing, you have a fan club already,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically as we began our walk home.
“I’m not the only one,” Gabriel replied. “You didn’t exactly escape attention either.”
“Yes, but no one’s really tried to talk to me.” I didn’t mention my encounter with Xavier Woods — something told me Gabriel wouldn’t approve.
“Be grateful for small mercies,” said Gabriel drily.
I related the day, point by point, to Ivy when we got home. Gabriel, who hadn’t been thrilled by every little detail, remained silent. Ivy smothered a smile when I told the story of the swooning girls.
“Teenage girls can be quite lacking in subtlety,” Ivy mused. “The boys, on the hand, are much harder to read. It’s all very interesting, don’t you think?”
“They all just seem lost to me,” Gabe said. “I wonder if any of them really know what life is all about. I didn’t realize we’d be starting from scratch. This is going to be harder than I thought.” He fell silent, and we all were reminded of the epic task we had ahead of us.
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