Bird Song (Grace Series)

by S. L. Naeole

  But when it did…

  “Why did you do that? You could have been seriously hurt!” Lark complained as she tried to hold me up. Robert was at my side just a split second after the blow landed on my shoulder which forced me into Graham, the two of us falling onto the pavement. Graham had managed to crawl out from under me as Robert gingerly turned me over, his hands immediately healing what I knew was a dislocated shoulder.

  “You were going to hurt Graham,” I wheezed, the pain constricting my chest and making the simple task of talking a painful venture. “He doesn’t know…”

  “I don’t know what?”

  “That Lark’s been taking lessons with me,” Stacy stepped in, her voice pitchy and nervous. Did I sound like that when I lied, too? If I did, I really was a bad liar.

  “Lark’s been taking lessons and she’s really good…for being blind. She’s very advanced—she might surpass me, and I can see. And she’s really coordinated, too,” Stacy continued, obviously having inherited the “I’m-so-nervous-I-can’t-stop-talking” gene.

  “Oh.” That was it. Graham didn’t question it. Had I said it, he would have automatically known I was lying—I had inherited that same gene, after all. Instead, he accepted Stacy’s explanation. I didn’t know if that was out of guilt or genuine naiveté but it would bother me for days afterwards.

  Graham’s attention turned back to me, amusement and concern blending together to distort his features. “Are you okay? I’m sorry…”

  I shook my head at his apology. “Don’t. I’m fine. It’s just a little bump. See?” I pointed to my shoulder, now nearly pain free and mobile thanks to Robert’s unseen ability. “It’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

  He snorted, his gaze turning back to Stacy. “You’re a lot stronger than this, Stace—there isn’t even any bruising. You’ve knocked me flat on my rear-end; Grace looks like she was bitten by an ant.”

  It was as close to a compliment as I had heard him pay her and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Thanks,” Stacy murmured, her face growing red with embarrassment. Or was that pleasure?

  “Okay, now that we’ve established that I’m a complete weakling, can we get back to the issue at hand?” Lark asked, her head tilted upwards, her eyes blinking rapidly.

  I felt my heart skip and threw a quick look at Robert. He had the same concern and quickly stood in front of his sister, blocking her from view. It took less than a minute, but when he stepped aside, I knew that the danger of Lark’s crystal tears falling in front of Graham had passed.

  Unfortunately, he noticed the silent exchange and stepped forward, his hand reaching out to comfort her before dropping to his side limply just before it could have brushed against her face. “Are-are you alright, Lark?”

  She nodded stiffly, something that resembled pride taking over her demeanor. “I’ll be fine. Let’s get back on topic, okay?”

  His head bobbed up and down but the concern remained even as Stacy began asking about what else had happened. “Did Mr. Kenner threaten you, Grace? Did he actually threaten to blackmail you?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t give him the chance. I-I think I ended up blackmailing him…”

  The incredulous looks on Stacy and Graham’s faces were almost enough to have made my threat worth it. “You blackmailed the Vice-Principal?” Graham gasped, voicing the question that I knew was poised on Stacy’s lips.

  “I guess I did,” I said, giggling nervously. “Oh dear bananas…I blackmailed the vice-principal.”

  Robert grinned. “I think I like this side of you”

  “What side of me? The side that’s going to get me suspended?”

  “The side that’s proving to everyone just how special and unique you truly are,” he said behind his grin, his eyes crinkling with amusement at my resulting scowl.

  “Fat lot of good being special and unique is going to do me when I’m not only Grace-the-Freak, I’m also Grace-the-girl-who-got-the-school-sued.”

  Stacy placed her hand on my shoulder, a comforting gesture that only made me feel worse. “Oh geez, Stacy, look at me. You’re the one with the concussion, and I’m here complaining.”

  “Don’t forget three stitches,” she said mockingly before laughing. “Grace, what did you say to Mr. Kenner exactly?”

  I repeated the entire event, the words spilling out without any effort, the final sentence barely leaving my mouth before Stacy launched into a tirade that rivaled the one she displayed in the emergency room. “I’m going to destroy her—physically, socially, and then physically again,” she seethed. “Well, my parents are definitely going to sue the school now. This isn’t going to fly; my dad is going to have a field day with this.”

  Lark, finally able to express her anger over the situation had her teeth bared in a silent snarl. “She’s got a death wish. She doesn’t know who she’s messing with.”

  Robert’s stoic features belied the low, rumbling growl that he emitted, while Graham looked disgusted.

  “God, I didn’t think I could feel any more sorry, be any more sorry than I already am, but man, Grace…I am so—oh God, I cannot believe this—I am incredibly sorry for ever getting involved with someone like Erica. I had no idea that she’d be this vindictive,” Graham said as he shoved both hands through his hair, turning the tame hair into a field of twisted spikes. “I wish I could go back in time and change everything.”

  “Ditto,” I muttered. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore whether or not you used to date her. Erica hates me and has it out for me for some unknown reason, so whatever it is that I do won’t matter.” I turned to look at Robert, wrapping my arms around his waist and tilting my face upwards so that I could be sure he saw the truth in my eyes as well as my mind when I said, “I’m not breaking up with you. Not for anything.”

  It would have sounded like typical high school ignorance to anyone else listening. If I had heard it uttered by someone else, I probably would have rolled my eyes and made some kind of off-hand comment about the stupidity and cluelessness of the statement, but I wasn’t talking about someone else. “Not for anything,” I mouthed.

  “So what’s the plan?” Robert asked Stacy just before he pressed his lips against my forehead. “Are your parents going to confront Mr. Kenner? The Hamiltons?”

  “The plan right now is to get through the rest of the day without me killing Erica, and then I’ll tell my dad about what happened. Grace, I think you should tell yours, too.” Graham stood beside her, his hand awkwardly pressed against her back as he attempted to give her the strength that she clearly did not need, but judging by the look on her face, greatly appreciated.

  “We’ll talk to our mom about the Hamiltons. They’re a fairly important family here from what I know about them, but they’ll be quite surprised to see just how important the Bellegardes are as well,” Lark said smugly. She had her arms folded across her chest and I imagined Erica slowly suffocating in her arms. This thought brought a smile to Lark’s face. “She has no clue what’s coming to her, does she?”

  I shook my head. No one did. As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, I wondered if anyone ever would.

  LOOKS AND DAMAGES

  I felt incredibly anxious during fifth period as the clock’s second hand ticked slowly around the dial. Each minute movement seemed to cause my emotions to flip flop, changing from angry to fearful. Sixth period loomed ahead, with the one person who seemed most intent on ruining my life in every way possible.

  She had attacked Stacy thinking it was me. She had somehow managed to convince Mr. Kenner that blackmailing me was somehow a good idea. What was there left?

  When at last the bell rang, and the class gathered their things to leave, I felt all the suspense leave me. I grabbed my backpack and headed towards the classroom exit, searching for the pair of silver eyes that I knew would be there waiting for me.

  “I didn’t see you after fourth period,” I said as Robert grabbed my bag from my shoulder and hefted it onto his own. “Did you have to…�
�

  “Yes. I was hoping that you’d have met up with Lark afterwards, but she’s left campus.”

  “Why?” I asked, half-knowingly.

  “She’s upset with herself, and with you,” he answered. He placed his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against his side. The closeness helped disguise the next few minutes as he shared with me what couldn’t be said out loud.

  She attacked Graham, not to hurt him, but to incite you to feel concern for him, remind you that despite his many flaws, you still care for him. She didn’t expect you to jump in front of him at all—hurting you upset her greatly today, and awakened some of that compassion that she’s kept tamped down for the past century or two.

  I immediately felt quite, well…stupid. That’s why she only dislocated my shoulder, instead of tearing it off.

  He nodded grimly. I suggest you never do that again, Grace. I don’t like seeing you hurt; it was very difficult for me to not hurt Lark in return, or even Graham for that matter when I felt the pain in your mind, saw the injuries to your shoulder.

  The thought that Robert had to struggle to keep from harming his own sister because of my foolishness compounded the guilt that I felt for upsetting Lark. Wait, you said injuries. I know she dislocated my shoulder—she didn’t break it, did she?

  No, she didn’t break it. Like I said, she had no real intention of hurting Graham. Not severely anyway. The angle at which you were hit is what caused the dislocation. The other injury was dermal.

  Dermal? You mean skin, right?

  He smirked. Do you really hate Mr. Branke’s class that much that you’d need to ask that?

  I pictured myself stomping on his foot and smiled when his smirk disappeared and was replaced with an apologetic frown. Sorry. Yes, dermal as in involving your skin. No one could see it except me, but it was there, Grace.

  The word “it” shouldn’t have meant anything to me. It shouldn’t have, but it did. That awful bruise I got on my hand at the wedding. You mean, that was on my shoulder?

  He shook his head slightly, and pulled me in even closer to him, steering us towards a small alcove between some lockers. He pressed me up against the side of them and placed his hands beside my head, his arms trapping me between him and the cold metal behind me. It’s everywhere, Grace. It’s…all over your chest. I stopped it from spreading down your legs but there’s some faint lacing of it crawling up your neck and down your arms.

  He traced his finger along the column of my neck, the touch causing me to forget everything he had said, everything I had been thinking of. All I was able to do was fight back the need to groan as he traced the path that led up to my pulse and then back down to the collar of my shirt.

  Grace, focus please.

  I shook my head. You started it.

  I need you to listen. The bruising is very unique in appearance, Grace. It doesn’t look like a normal bruise. You remember-

  I remembered. Despite the delicious feeling of having him so close, I remembered everything about that bruise. I had punched Lark playfully in her arm, the contact brief and painless for the both of us. It shouldn’t have been for me because according to Robert, the chemical makeup of an angel’s skin was like that of spider’s silk: it was unbelievably strong, like steel, but felt like the exact opposite. It was soft, smooth and supple…deceptively supple. The brief connection between Lark’s arm and my fist had broken every single bone in my hand, and turned my flesh into a veritable palette of blues and blacks.

  But, while the bruising, the breakage, and the fact that I didn’t feel a thing was all incomprehensible enough on their own, the pattern of the bruising is what had left Lark and Robert with little in the way of explanation. I quickly lifted my arm and pulled at my sleeve, gasping as I saw the familiar markings. My arm looked like a purple and black honeycomb, the hexagonal shapes fading gently down my forearm and disappearing shortly before my wrist.

  I quickly yanked my sleeve back down and stared, wide-eyed at Robert’s face. What am I going to do? I can’t go home like this—Dad’ll freak!

  Robert’s eyelids lowered as he thought about what it was that could be done to quickly heal the bruising that was slowly going to reach my hands and demand an explanation to the unexplainable. I grinned. I more than grinned; I nearly whooped for joy.

  Grace, be serious here. This is to help heal you. It will only be for a little while, and we do not want to gather too much attention because of it.

  I turned my head to look at the mass of students that walked by, each one stealing a quick glance in our direction and then looking away, embarrassed that they had been seen looking in the first place. If you don’t want us to gather too much attention, I suggest you hurry up and kiss me before the bell rings.

  As he leaned in, his method of healing now the only thing I ever wanted to think of ever again, I felt the familiar stumbling of my heart as it sped up and lost control of its rhythm. I held my breath, held myself completely still while his painfully slow approach increased the building anticipation within me.

  When his lips finally, softly pressed against mine, the first time he’d ever actually done so in school, the self-control that I was holding onto so desperately broke free. My hands flew to his face, wanting to hold him there forever. I felt his mouth turn up into a smile against mine as he heard my thoughts.

  “Is that a promise?” he whispered, his breath sending every nerve I possessed into a frenzy as it hit my skin. I relished the way his breathing sounded as ragged as my own, the short connection between us doing just as much damage to him as it had done to me. “Damage? I thought I was healing you.” He leaned in and brushed my lips with his again…once, twice…the third time was done with as much pressure and insistence as I knew he was capable of before he lost his composure.

  When at last he rested his forehead against mine, I answered his question. “It’s damaging, being so close to you, needing you so much and not being able to do anything about it.”

  “Yes. I suppose we are doing some serious damage to ourselves then, aren’t we?” He pulled away, his arms dropping down to grab my arm. He lifted my sleeve and smiled at his handiwork. “No more bruising.”

  I didn’t look down. I didn’t want to. I could only see the disappointment in his eyes that contradicted the smile on his face. I wanted to ask him, needed to know what caused it, but as usual, my timing was all wrong; the bell rang, sending the remaining students in the hall into a mad dash towards their classes.

  Robert took a firm hold of me and stepped out of the alcove. Although I knew that we weren’t anywhere near our class, we still ended up standing in front of the door in the same amount of time it would have taken any normal person to have exited our little hideaway. He opened the door for me and gently coaxed me inside, his hand on the small of my back offering tremendous comfort as I realized that, with all eyes on the two of us, our exchange of affection had been witnessed or relayed to just about everyone possible in nearly no time at all.

  And you thought your ability to share thoughts was fantastic. I thought to Robert, smiling. Nothing beats the speed and accuracy of high school gossip.

  “Okay Mr. Bellegarde, Miss Shelley. Take your seats please,” Mr. Danielson called out to us from his office. “We’ll be starting in just a few moments so I think I’ll excuse your…tardiness.”

  The giggling and snorts of amusement that echoed around the large, auditorium-like classroom was enough for me to understand why we had never done anything like this until today, and why we probably wouldn’t do this ever again.

  I wouldn’t say that.

  My head turned slightly to acknowledge his thoughts as we sat down in our seats. Oh? Why?

  Just that it was worth all of this discomfort.

  I felt my eyes narrow as I looked at him, his features giving away nothing. Almost nothing—I saw it then: the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth told me everything I needed to know. You didn’t need to do that, did you? You could have healed the bruising the usual w
ay.

  The twitch grew until his bottom lip looked like it was trembling from trying to contain the grin I knew was threatening to break free. You little sneak! You did that to distract me!

  He nodded, the silver in his eyes shimmering with liquid heat. I had to blink before I lost my train of thought.

  It worked, didn’t it?

  This time, it was my turn to nod, and I turned around in my seat in a huff, miffed that he couldn’t have simply said that he wanted to kiss me. You’re enough of a distraction. I don’t need subterfuge to kiss you, Robert.

  He turned in his seat to face me, and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands held out for mine. I pretended I didn’t see them. Grace, you need whatever distractions you can get right now, but you still need to be able to focus. If I had simply told you that I wanted to kiss you, two things would have happened. The first one being that you’d want us to leave, and the second one being that you’d become very disappointed when I said no.

  I felt my bottom lip push out. He was right.

  And, even if I hadn’t said no, you would have still been very disappointed when I wouldn’t let you get carried away. At least here, there was a double reason for maintaining your self-control.

  I snorted. Self-control. Hah. You were having some difficulties yourself, Robert. You specifically chose the environment to help keep you in check; not me.

  His face paled at my words, his lips pulling into a surprised smile. Well, I suppose you’re right. I do have a problem with my own self-control around you, you know that. It’s becoming more and more difficult to reign in, but I’ve got time. So…forever, eh?

  I glared at him. Don’t change the subject!

  He chuckled softly as he motioned towards the front of the class with his head. I don’t think I have a choice. Quickly, very quickly, he reached for my hand and pressed a warm kiss to my palm, replacing my hand without anyone having seen a thing.