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Lesser Gods

Page 26

by Adrian Howell


  “Well, I care, to a point,” I replied evasively.

  Laila said teasingly, “I’m guessing God isn’t the only thing you don’t believe in.”

  “I don’t believe in werewolves, vampires, fairies, ghosts, UFOs, magic or fate, to name a few.”

  Laila laughed. “I always thought of psionics as a sort of magic.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure there’s some science behind it that we just don’t understand yet. Nothing ever happens without cause.”

  “In a way, you’re much like Terry, Adrian. So down-to-earth it’s almost painful.”

  I shrugged. “I admit when I first gained my power, I thought it was something special. Something magical. Maybe even the beginning of something wonderful. And in a way, it was, but... Well, you know that my parents were killed, and my sister was converted by Larissa Divine, same as your father.”

  “Would you tell me about your sister? About Cat?”

  “I never told you?” I asked in surprise. I thought that I had told Laila about Cat long ago.

  Laila remained silent.

  “Laila?” I asked, wondering what was the matter.

  Suddenly Laila laughed, saying, “No. I mean, you never told me.”

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “I’m sorry, Adrian,” Laila said between giggles. “I’m just so stupid sometimes. I was shaking my head, thinking you could see me. You’d think I would have learned by now.”

  “Oh,” I said, laughing too. “I really wish I could see you, Laila.” It took me a few seconds before I realized how that must have sounded. I added embarrassedly, “You know, I mean, if I could see you...”

  “You’d know it when I shook my head,” said Laila, still laughing.

  “Yeah,” I said, staring down at the table. I didn’t want Laila to see my expression, which probably looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

  “So,” said Laila, “would you tell me about her?”

  “Sure,” I said, happy to be back on a normal conversation. “But on one condition.”

  “Death if I tell anyone?” Laila asked innocently.

  I chuckled. “No. Actually...” I paused, trying to find the right words to say this without actually saying it.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, you know Alia’s really feeling down about Terry and... well, Alia likes you a lot and... I – I know you probably have other friends at school who’ll be only too happy that Terry’s out of your life but...” My mouth wasn’t even stammering the right words, and I just ended by mumbling, “It would, um, be nice if we could all still be friends.”

  I felt Laila touch my right hand. “Adrian, I’m truly shocked. We are friends, and nothing’s going to change that. Even if Ms. Gifford hadn’t called, I was planning on visiting you today to make sure you and Alia were alright.”

  “I just thought with all the trouble you’ve been through on Terry’s account...”

  “Nobody chooses my friends for me,” Laila said forcefully, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

  “I remember you said that once about Terry,” I said, pulling my hand free and holding my coffee cup in both hands.

  “Well, now I’m saying it about you, Adrian. I’m really mad at Terry for running off like this, and I hope she comes to her senses, but meanwhile we can definitely still be friends.” Laila paused for a moment and then added in a hesitant tone, “That is, if that’s what you want.”

  Another uncomfortable silence. My coffee had cooled just enough to gulp, so I did.

  In fact, I had caught myself thinking a lot about Laila since around my birthday, and “friends” wasn’t exactly how I pictured our relationship. I remembered how Terry had claimed that Laila felt the same way about me, and all I’d have to do was ask. But getting myself to ask was like trying to levitate New Haven One while wearing a suit of armor. My mouth just wouldn’t form the words.

  Instead, I killed the silence by telling Laila about Cat. Laila in turn told me a bit more about her father, and how she feared that he might already have been killed in some battle with the Guardians or another faction. We talked about Terry, and about our takes on the possible outcomes of the Angel-Guardian war.

  We had a donut and a second cup of coffee each, and I insisted on paying the bill. Leaving the coffee shop, Laila walked me back across the street to the entrance of NH-1.

  “I’d love to say hello to Alia, Adrian,” said Laila, “but I still have a ton of homework waiting. I’ll come over tomorrow or Saturday at the latest, okay?”

  “That’d be great, Laila,” I said. “It’s, uh... it’s good to have a friend.”

  Suddenly I felt a light peck on my left cheek, and I said uncertainly, “We are, um, friends, right, Laila?”

  Laila giggled nervously. “Very good friends, Adrian.”

  “I like that,” I said over the thumping of my erratically beating heart. “Very good friends.”

  I felt Laila’s nose brush lightly against mine, and then our lips touched for the briefest, and yet longest, of instances.

  “See you, Adrian!” Laila called out before I even realized we were no longer kissing. I heard Laila sprint away down the sidewalk. It might have been a full five minutes before I had recovered enough of myself to find my way into the building.

  When I returned to the penthouse, Cindy said to me from somewhere near the center of the living room, “So, did Laila know about Terry?”

  “Um... yeah... I mean no,” I replied, still in a daze over what had just happened.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied quietly.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt. I was still coming to grips with the fact that I had just kissed Laila Brown. Or rather, she had kissed me. But then, so had I kissed her. Terry had been gone less than forty-eight hours, and the purpose of my chat with Laila had been purely to ascertain Terry’s destination. What had just happened? I felt awful about my sudden happiness. I knew I shouldn’t feel so great, even embarrassedly great, when Alia was still upset, as I certainly should be, over Terry’s disappearance. And I was upset over Terry’s disappearance, just as much as Cindy, Alia and Laila were. Post-traumatic stress disorder wasn’t nearly as maddening as what was going through me now. I wasn’t feeling up one moment and feeling down the next. I was up and down at the same moment.

  “Adrian?” said Cindy, coming closer. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing,” I whispered softly.

  No doubt Cindy would find out soon enough anyway. And then what would Alia say? Would she tease me again like she had when she claimed that Terry was my girlfriend? I realized that I didn’t care. Alia could say whatever she wanted. I was more worried about what I was going to say to Laila the next time we met.

  Cindy said worriedly, “Obviously something happened, Adrian. I haven’t seen you so spaced out since, well, forever.”

  “There’s a first to everything,” I mumbled, leaving the living room and heading down the corridor. I could hear the shower running, which meant my bedroom would be Alia-free, so I quickly entered and sat down at the window.

  Cindy had followed me. “Adrian? What’s going on? Is Laila alright?”

  “I think so,” I breathed. “She went home.”

  “Adrian Howell! What is the matter with you?!”

  My head snapped toward her voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that, um... we, uh... Laila and I, that is... we, um... we kissed.”

  A blink later, Cindy let out a deep breath and laughed loudly. “Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry, Adrian! I was about ready to call the Knights in case you were under some kind of psionic control.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, laughing awkwardly. “I mean, I think I’m fine.”

  “So, you and Laila are going together now?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, I’m really happy for you,” Cindy said sincerely. “Laila’s a great girl. Terry’s been trying to get you two together for months. It’s a shame she’s not here to see it.


  “I hope she writes,” I said, quickly deflating at the mention of Terry. “So I can thank her.”

  “I hope she writes too, Adrian.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you, Cindy. My mind was all over the place. And I’m still really sad about Terry.”

  “I’m sad about Terry too,” said Cindy. “We’ll all have to work hard to get through this. But you and Laila are in this together, since Terry was friends with both of you. I just hope you don’t forget that your sister misses Terry as much as you do. And she likes Laila too.”

  “Don’t worry, Cindy. I won’t forget about Alia,” I said, though I was already pondering what excuses I might make to Alia in order to guarantee Laila and I had a little more time to ourselves.

  Terry didn’t return that week, or the next. Eventually Alia stopped asking whether Terry would even write, which she didn’t, but I knew it was on Alia’s mind as much as it was on mine. I didn’t have the heart to suggest that my sister move into Terry’s old room, even if only until Terry came back. Cindy didn’t want to do anything with it either. We had little use for a guestroom in the penthouse.

  Meanwhile, Laila and I got a good deal closer. Like Terry, Laila was a year older than me, but unlike Terry, she wasn’t noticeably so. I found that I could talk with Laila just as comfortably as I could before we were dating, if one could even call it dating with my sister hanging around so often. The penthouse always felt a little empty without Terry there, so I understood Alia’s desire to stick close to Laila and me, and I did my best to tolerate her. Laila seemed perfectly happy to have Alia chaperone whenever we went out, and Alia didn’t mind me holding hands with Laila so long as she got my other hand.

  With the winter closing fast, I frequently wore the scarf Laila had given me and the sweater Alia had made, and the three of us roamed around New Haven together, strolling through the park or stopping at cafes or restaurants. Laila’s busy school schedule prevented us from meeting daily, but on Saturdays we usually spent the whole day out.

  Though just barely within Cindy’s hiding bubble, New Haven contained both a movie theater and a concert hall. I found that I could enjoy most non-action movies just listening to the actors speaking. I hated action movies anyway – too much gunfire and meaningless violence. I had had enough of both. Laila liked classical music, and I developed a bit of a taste for it myself when I first felt the concert hall vibrate with the sound of a full orchestra playing live Mozart.

  Being blind, the eyes of the public bothered me very little, but despite how this had all started, Laila preferred to keep our outdoor kissing to a minimum. I didn’t mind that too much. It was nice just to talk with her and hold her hand, and whenever it was more than that, it was something special.

  Though Alia had shown no surprise when she first learned that Laila and I were going together, she nevertheless did tease me from time to time, probably because she felt that she wasn’t getting enough of my attention these days. While the three of us played together much as we used to, it was equally true that I no longer spent very much time alone with Alia. And there were occasions, however infrequent, when I insisted that my sister stay home so Laila and I could go out without a nine-year-old tagging along.

  Just once, I even went to Sunday church service with Laila, where I finally got to hear Mark Parnell give a sermon. It was strange listening to Mark at the pulpit addressing the crowd like a teacher. My late uncle had taken me to Sunday service a few times when I was much younger, and I remembered how the preacher there had a fiery temper, shouting about heavenly punishment and damnation. In contrast, Mark spoke in a near-whisper about how God loved even the people who were against him. Personally, I no longer believed in his message of “love thy enemy,” but it was nevertheless nice to hear it from someone who did. Mark probably spotted me in the crowd, but thoughtfully refrained from introducing me to the congregation. We talked after the service. I assured Mark that my visit was purely secular, upon which he laughed and said, “You are quickly redefining the word ‘agnostic,’ Adrian.”

  Attending Sunday service also meant that I finally got to meet Laila’s mother. Though I couldn’t picture her face, Mrs. Brown seemed very friendly and not at all worried about me dating her daughter. She asked me how Cindy was doing and told me not to give up hoping for Terry’s return. Upon seeing how Mark treated me in the church, Mrs. Brown forgave my lack of faith as easily as Laila had, and I was spared the need for future Sunday visits.

  The end of the year came quietly. New Year’s Eve turned out to be a chilly but clear day. Laila came up to the penthouse in the morning and spent the day with us. As with the previous year, there was a New Year’s countdown party for the Council and their families down in the subbasement gathering place, but this time Cindy was going by herself. I had tried to get Alia to accompany her so that I could be alone with Laila, who also wasn’t going to the party, but no such luck.

  “Someone needs to keep an eye on you kids while I’m gone,” Cindy said teasingly as she left in the late evening. “Who better than Alia?”

  I frowned. Tonight would be my last chance to be with Laila for the next three weeks.

  Late tomorrow morning, Laila would be heading off with her mother and another Council member on a journey to visit a handful of independent psionic settlements across the country and beyond, as well as two breakaway Guardian factions. The purpose of this expedition was to establish better relations with them and possibly get them to join us here. Since the two Council members and their escorts wouldn’t return to New Haven until well after Laila’s winter vacation ended, the original plan was for Laila to stay with us in Terry’s old room, but Laila had convinced her mother that the possibility of finding Terry in one of these settlements outweighed anything school could offer. I really didn’t like the idea of not seeing Laila for three whole weeks, especially since Laila wouldn’t even be permitted to make telephone calls during her trip, but I agreed that the possible prize would be worth the sacrifice.

  A few weeks ago, Cindy had bought me a radio for my bedroom, and Alia brought it into the living room so we could listen to the countdown, which was still hours away. We left it on at low volume as we talked and played board games to pass the time. I told Laila about how Terry had made fun of me last year for my refusal to drink more than one glass of champagne at the countdown party, and how she spent the first half of New Year’s Day in bed with a hangover so severe that she could barely sit up. I was exaggerating, of course, but not by much.

  “That’s Terry alright,” laughed Laila. “I hope she’s doing okay.”

  “I’m sure she is,” I said, though my faith in Terry’s resilience had been severely shaken. “If you find her, give her a good whack on the head and say it’s from me. That way, she’ll have to come back here to return it.”

  The three of us drank a non-alcoholic toast to Terry, after which Alia suddenly exclaimed aloud, “Look! It’s snowing.”

  “Wow, it’s pretty heavy too,” commented Laila. “Maybe it’ll stay on the ground this time.”

  It had hardly snowed at all this winter, and it certainly hadn’t piled up enough to have any kind of snowball fight like in previous years. Laila had lamented the lack of snow on Christmas.

  Alia wanted to go to the greenhouse where the glass ceiling would allow her to see the snow falling from above. Laila agreed, and I had nothing better to do, so we all stood up and made our way through the library to the greenhouse.

  “It’s beautiful,” breathed Laila as we stood in the warm and mildly humid room. “But I hope it doesn’t pile up too much or the roads are going to be terrible tomorrow.”

  I tried my best to remember what it had looked like last year. I guessed that some of the glass ceiling might already be covered in snow by now.

  “The phone’s ringing,” I said, just barely catching the almost inaudible tone making its way here from the living room. “Alia?”

  “Okay, okay!” said Alia, rushing out of the greenhouse.r />
  As my sister’s footstep receded, I felt Laila touch my hand. “I really wish you could see this, Adrian,” she said.

  “I can, in a way,” I replied. “I can hear the snow hitting the glass.”

  “I can hear it too,” whispered Laila. “I never really noticed that before.”

  “There are a lot of things you learn to notice when you’re blind, Laila.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how close you’re standing.”

  “It’s a little early, Adrian,” Laila said softly, “but Happy New Year.”

  I felt our lips touch, and I kissed her back, wrapping my arms tightly around her, my right hand on her back and my left stroking her soft, sweet-smelling hair. I felt her arms around me too, pulling us ever tighter, and I knew she could feel my rapidly beating heart against hers as clearly as I felt hers on mine. As we stood embraced under the soft tapping of the falling snow, I wished with all my being that time itself would freeze solid so that Laila and I could remain this way forever.

  I heard Alia clear her throat. “Addy!”

  “Who was it?” I asked, hastily disentangling myself from Laila.

  “Nobody,” replied Alia. “I said hello, and in a clear voice too, but nobody answered.”

  “It must have been a wrong number,” said Laila, giggling nervously. “Everyone’s drunk and calling each other on New Year’s Eve.”

  I flipped open the cover of my Braille watch and ran my fingers over the watch hands. “It’s about 11:30. Let’s, um, get back to the radio.”

  Laila started to agree, but her words were cut off by a high-pitch siren that suddenly rang out through the penthouse.

  “What is that?!” Laila shouted over the blaring noise. “Fire?!”

  “Panic alarm!” I said. “Did anyone push the button?”

  After a team of Angels had managed to kidnap Cindy from the penthouse back in April, every room had been fitted with a red panic button to call up the building’s security forces. Mr. Baker had warned us that if we ever accidentally pushed one of the buttons, we should keep the front door unlocked or else the Knights would break it down.

 

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