Come on Garreth. Where are you?
I looked my mother square in the eye. “Why can’t the fourth person be Garreth? A nice little family dinner. Like a double date.”
Mom sighed deeply, returning the stare.
“It would make us so happy if you two would just try to get along.”
“She’s not even his daughter!” My stress level was skyrocketing. Not a good thing for a Monday before school. I could hear my calculus grade flushing down the toilet already.
“She’s his stepdaughter. And it still makes her family.”
“Well he’s not family yet, either.”
Oops. Without looking at my mom I knew I opened my mouth a little too wide with that one. I heard the refrigerator door open and the plastic salami bag slap forcefully against the back, where it would probably stay now, rotting. Then I heard the loud tapping of her shoes make their way into the small powder room in the hall.
Conversation over.
With perfect timing, Garreth appeared on the back porch, umbrella in hand, to escort me to school. I could hear the faint idling of his Jeep in the driveway.
“Hi.” He leaned over to kiss my forehead, then leaned his head and shoulders into the door frame to call good morning to my mom.
“Don’t bother. It’s not a very good morning.”
“She tried again, huh?” Garreth’s eyes met mine as he noted my sullen attitude. I felt guilty this time. Well, maybe not that much.
“I guess I laid the resistance on a little too thick. You ready?” I asked, grabbing my books and my house key.
I closed the back door behind us, with my mother sulking inside. I knew things would be better when I came home this afternoon. We would eat dinner.
She would try again. I wanted to make her happy, I really did, but sometimes it was hard. Dr. Dean was the first man to seriously sweep her off her feet since my father, and I had to be the one to put a glitch in things.
Garreth opened the door for me and ran around to his side, avoiding the puddles in our neglected and uneven driveway. I looked over at him and forced a smile. Being with him made me beyond happy; it was just taking a little longer this morning.
He shifted the Jeep in reverse and his warm hand found mine. I absently traced his palm with my finger, feeling the soft embedded lines that completed a circle with the intersecting points of his star. His mark never ceased to amaze me. There were days I forgot he wasn’t human. It was so easy to take for granted that a person was born with human traits, little identifiable markings that showed they belonged to the human race … blue eyes, green eyes … arms and legs … curly hair, straight hair. And the odd little markings to distinguish one person from the other, fingerprints for example. No two were alike. Like a snowflake or birthmarks.
But when it came to the palms of our hands, I was still blown away. We were born with markings, but angels were created with their own, too. An octagram engraved in the palm of an angel’s hand. It was the mark of a guardian.
I flipped his hand over, then turned mine over as well. I had my own mark. It wasn’t an octagram because I wasn’t a guardian, but it was just as rare and made me feel special. Garreth called it the Circle of Unity when it first appeared on my hand last spring. Circle of Unity sure sounded a lot better than what I originally thought it was, since it started off looking like an ugly, raised welt—a sure sign of some variety of poison.
I wasn’t quite sure what my mark meant or why I was chosen to have it, but it didn’t scare me. I’ve seen too much to scare easily and it was a relief knowing I’m destined for something else. Something important. Something that will never cease to exist … like my human life.
But human I was for now, and a stubborn one at that.
“I just wish Dr. Dean didn’t come as a package deal. It really would be easier if it was just him,” I said, trying to rationalize.
“You mean it would be easier for you if it was just him. So what you’re really saying is things are difficult enough with just one teenager for them to deal with.” Garreth smiled sideways at me, keeping his eyes fixed on the slick streets on the way to school.
“That’s not what I meant.” I bit down on my tongue. I was only digging myself deeper. “I know I’m no angel.”
Garreth looked right at me, keeping the car steady, and raised his eyebrows inquisitively until they disappeared beneath the lengths of his sandy blonde hair.
“You know what I mean. She’s trouble, that’s all.”
Trouble.
That didn’t even begin to cover it.
I stared at the tiny drops on the windshield in front of me, not saying another word until we pulled into the student parking lot of Carver High School. It was bad enough I had to go to the same school as Brynn Hanson, but to spend every Friday now, scarfing down pepperoni and mushroom pizza with her, was pushing it.
The Jeep stopped. The rain came down heavier in large, inflated drops. Garreth made a grab for the umbrella, but I stopped him. This time I was the one to reach across and touch him. He looked at me and a warm smile formed across his lips, and then I kissed him.
“Ready to go ace calculus?” he asked, still leaning in my direction.
“Yeah, ready to fail it.” I joked half-heartedly.
He rolled his eyes at me.
Miraculously, the rain was letting up a little, and by little I mean little. But it made me feel hopeful, not just that maybe I could make it to the front entrance without soggy sneakers, but hopeful about things in general. Reluctantly, I made a silent vow to not get too pissed off about Fridays—or Brynn for that matter.
Garreth’s locker was on the third level, since he was a transfer student last spring, so we split up by the main staircase and I proceeded down the hallway toward my locker, which was next to the library this year. Nothing was out of the ordinary, just a typical Monday morning: yawning students, the techno-pings of text messages being sent and received, lockers slamming in frustration. My shoes were squeaking with every step across the gray and white tiled floor, but so were everyone else’s.
Then, just as my mood began to lighten, it darkened. Gone. Just like that.
It was the clicking of heels in perfect unison that penetrated my morning routine. I reluctantly turned my head to catch a glimpse of the evil foursome, quickly approaching my stretch of hallway. Lauren Atkins and Emily Lawrence were smiling, their chins held high, members of the school’s royal court.
Sage Fisher kept up while rummaging through her tiny handbag, pursing her glossy, pink lips together until at last, she found a stick of gum. She absentmindedly flicked the wrapper from her fingers, where it floated weightlessly to the floor. Doing my best to ignore them, I turned to my locker again.
Finding my English textbook became utterly important all of a sudden.
Their leader, Brynn Hanson, was moments away from the quad where my locker stood. I stared into the cavernous metal opening and held my breath.
Synchronized footsteps slowed behind me, then abruptly stopped and I sighed, having no choice but to turn and face her.
“I heard about Friday,” Brynn cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes.
“The charity dinner?” crooned Lauren from behind us.
Brynn quickly shot her hand up, silencing her obnoxious friend. There was only one person she was giving her attention to right now.
“All I’m saying is if you’re nice to me for your mom’s sake don’t expect any reciprocation. Come Monday morning, you’ll mean nothing to me, just like any other day,” she hissed through her smile.
“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual,” I chided back.
Brynn shot me another meaningful glare, then looked me up and down, taking in my dressed down attire for P.E. Her eyes settled on the dampened hem of my sweatpants and her mouth turned up in disgust; then they proceeded to walk away. I could feel my face burn with anger and embarrassment.
Practically everyone was soaked from the rain this morning, everyone except Brynn, whose little leather shoes were dry and perfect. Within moments, Ryan Jameson emerged by my side, his backpack slung over his shoulder as he stared after the entourage.