Earth Angel (Falling Angels Saga) (2 page)

“Look, that’s Ashley Scott’s locker,” I said wagging my finger at the locker with no invite. Ashley Scott was the gold standard, the girl every girl at G.U. wanted to be, every guy at G.U. wanted to have. “How come there’s not one on her locker? She’s a member of the Poplarati. And she’s got a Chanel purse and it’s not a knockoff. This was probably meant for her.” I stuffed the invite back into the envelope, diving into my purse in search of a fresh piece of tape.

“Meagan, isn’t your name on the envelope?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

So, there it was. I’d been invited to The Explosion. I knew I should have been feeling giddy about it. I am on the debate team and the math team, which makes me a bona fide member of the school’s geek squad. Geeks do not get invited to cool parties. And yet, somehow I had been. I couldn’t help but wonder why.

The answer came at lunch.

Ever since the funeral, my habit at lunch had been to stop by the cafeteria, grab something portable to eat, then join Guy in the football field bleachers for lunch and whatever else might be on his mind.

While I enjoyed the time with Guy, the reason I started taking lunch away from the cafeteria was because I could no longer handle the looks. It seemed every time I picked my head up from talking, or eating, I would catch someone looking away. I knew they were whispering about Matt.

Poor thing. Her best friend committed suicide.

I hated all the sympathy coming my way, partly because I was still digesting a heavy dose of guilt over Matt’s suicide. I also hated being a sideshow attraction.

At least I didn’t have to eat in the bleachers alone. I had a boyfriend. I still had to pinch myself when I realized I actually had one. What was even harder to believe is that my mother didn’t put up a stink about it, even though I knew she didn’t like him. I was free to see Guy with some restrictions.

Obviously I could see him in school. But no dating—and no riding in his car. Since Guy’s wings had been clipped—literally—he’d acquired a white Mustang convertible. Even though I had lost my ride to school, I was forbidden to ride in it.

The only time I was allowed to see Guy outside of school is when he came over to my house on Saturday evenings, sat on our living room sofa, and watched TV, with Suze always hovering somewhere nearby.

I am sure the only reason she allowed the relationship was because of how much we’d been through already this year—her illness, then me being hospitalized, along with Matt’s death. The restrictions made my bleacher time with Guy even more special. It was our only alone time.

I stopped off in the cafeteria and was on line getting ready to pay for a bag of Fritos and a soda when I noticed Jeremy Bowen staring in my direction. He was smiling. I started looking around uncomfortably.
He couldn’t be smiling at me.

Jeremy was a tall senior, bulging with muscles like an NBA basketball player. He wore his shirts a size too small so everyone would notice. Jeremy was the star of the basketball team and the track team, with a scholarship to Arizona State. He was also a jerk, and one of the biggest snobs at G.U.

Jeremy Bowen has never spoken to me. He has never so much as acknowledged my existence. When Matt would bring Erin and me to sit at the jocks table Jeremy didn’t frown or protest, he did us one better—he pretended we weren’t even there.

I continued looking around, but didn’t see anyone else he could have been smiling at, so I smiled back, giving a weak wave. His smile widened. He came over.

“How’re they hangin’, Barnett?”

Famous pick-up lines of the eighties.

“Um, Hi, Jeremy.”

His voice lowered. “You get the invitation?”

I squinted. “Invitation?”

“To The Explosion. Ashley Scott was supposed to pin one to your locker. If that dumb chick didn’t—”

“Oh! Yes, I did get it. Um… thanks.”

“Well…” his voice lowered even more. “Sorry about Dawson’s Creek. He was one of the good ones.” He gave my shoulder a fragile pat.

“Um, yes. He was.”

“Hope to see ya there. It’s gonna be a blast,” he said before jogging across the cafeteria to join the other jocks at their table.

I stood staring after him, frozen to the spot. Matt, aka Dawson’s Creek, was the reason I’d been invited to The Explosion. ThePoplarati felt sorry for me.

Jeremy knew that Matt and I were best friends. He knew that Matt’s death was shrouded in a cloud of controversy. Everyone at school was whispering about it. This was his way of reaching out to me, of letting me know the Poplarati were closing ranks around Matt, and that I was included in the circle. I suddenly felt sorry for all the times I’d called him a jerk—even though he was… but still.

A tear I didn’t realize was coming drizzled down my cheek. Matt had been invited to The Explosion last year, but he didn’t go. I knew it was some kind of solidarity thing he was doing for me, even though he didn’t say it. On ditch day last spring we went to a movie—me, Matt and Erin.

Now there was just me.

#

When I got outside I spotted Guy making his way across the field. He moved with the grace of a gazelle, his Carolina blue hoodie slung across the back of his shoulder, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. On his left wrist he wore the braided three color friendship bracelet I’d made for him to replace the gum wrapper bracelet. Black, pink and white. I figured now that I had a real boyfriend, he deserved a real bracelet. A matching bracelet, signifying our togetherness, was on my right wrist.

“Aren’t you going to grab something to eat?” I said, catching up to him. I was a bit breathy because running is not my thing.

“You know I don’t eat.”

Right. I keep forgetting my boyfriend is an angel who had been sent to earth to guard me, but instead, fell in love with me.

“You eat at my house,” I countered, even though I knew the answer.

“That’s for Ms. Barnett’s sake. She already doesn’t like me. If she met a teenage boy who didn’t like to eat, she’d be even more suspicious.”

Everyone calls my mom Suze. All of her friends and all of my friends. Everyone but me. She wouldn’t have it any other way—except when it came to Guy. The first time Guy called her Ms. Barnett she didn’t correct him as she’d done with all my other friends. She was sending me a message. Message received.

We reached the bleachers. Despite the gorgeous day, the bleachers were deserted. We had them all to ourselves. With no one around, my mind and eyes wandered to Guy’s lips. They were gorgeous lips.

“There’s something up with you today,” he said, as we sat in our favorite spot at the very bottom. I opened the Fritos, not because I was planning on eating them. It was busy work for my hands. I had other plans for my lips.

“I had another dream. I wish you could have been there to hold me.” I inched closer, gaped at his mouth.

He pulled back, staring at me for a few seconds, his head cocked to the side. “No. That’s not it. Normally you’d be freaking out about the dream. There’s something else on your mind.”

Kissing!

“Oh, right. I’ve been invited to The Explosion,” I said somberly. Guy was very intuitive about what was going on inside of me. He had been gifted with some kind of special angel sense to help him protect me when he was my guardian, although he didn’t seem to be getting the message about kissing.

“Someone’s going to blow something up, and you’ve been invited to watch?” His face was twisted into a big question mark.

I laughed. “No, silly. The Explosion is a ditch day party given by the Poplarati. Getting invited is an honor.”

“And yet you don’t seem honored.” He reached into the bag, pulled out a Frito and held it in front of my lips. “Eat.” Strong, masculine hands holding the chip so delicately were a definite turn-on. I nibbled the Frito, sucking the salt from his fingertips.

“They only invited me because of Matt. He was one of them. By accepting me into their ranks, they’re sending a message to the rest of the school to stop the gossip about his
supposed
suicide.” Guy pulled another Frito from the bag, held before my lips. “I can feed myself, you know?”

“Righteeo.” He smiled his smile and I melted, nibbling the chip from his fingertips.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. They don’t care about me.”

Guy pulled another Frito from the bag. I frowned. “How do you feel about them?” He popped the chip into his mouth, made a face. I couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t feel anything. Jeremy and his jock friends are all jerks. And so is Ashley Scott and her crowd.”

“Sounds to me like you’re even. You don’t care about them, they don’t care about you.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

He looked at me with his dreamy eyes and I almost forgot what we were talking about. “Do you want to go to this Explosion?”

“No. But Maudrina sure does. She talked my ear off about it all through English.”

“Well…” He munched another Frito. Made another face.

“If you don’t like the way they taste, stop eating them!” I barked.

“A ditch day party is a daytime party, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“We’ve never been out together. We’ve never danced together. I’d like to dance with you at least once before… the semester’s over.” His voice dropped.

I knew he wasn’t thinking about the end of the semester. He was too polite to say what was really on his mind. Guy was an angel who had been exiled to walk the earth because he fell in love with me. He wanted to experience all he could with me before his exile came to an end.

“Geeks do dance, don’t they?” he teased, his words bringing me back to the moment.

“Yes, of course we do.” I could feel myself getting giddy inside. All of a sudden The Explosion was sounding like a good idea. Guy dancing in my arms all afternoon, without my mother hovering nearby. A very good idea.

“And it’s ditch day. So it’s not like you’re really ditching. Most students ditch all their classes after lunch anyway. Right?”

“For someone new at G.U. you sure know a lot about ditch day.”

“I am a master of ditching,” he said with a mischievous smile and a wink.

When I met Guy, he had presented himself to me as a bad boy to get my attention. It worked. But now he was towing the line, and making sure I did, too.

“What about Maudrina? She really wants to go. She’ll be crushed if I tell her I’m going with you.”

“If the Poplarati are bending over backwards to invite you, I’m sure they won’t mind if you show up with two dates.” He moved to pull another Frito from the bag, then thought better of it.

I inched closer, and he put his arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and we sat in silence, enjoying the warm spring air, and closeness. As much as I wanted to be kissed, I enjoyed Guy's arms around me more. I could sit for hours, neither of us uttering a word, and yet communicating volumes through our touch.

The danger I had been feeling the past few days, along with the horror of this morning’s dream, faded away. I even allowed myself the luxury of ignoring the greater danger, the danger to my heart and soul that lurked at the edge of my consciousness. The end of exile.

I had promised myself I would take it slow, that I would enjoy the fact I had found a boy I cared for and who loved me, and that I wouldn’t ruin things by looking into an uncertain future.

Live for today. Enjoy the moment
, is what I told myself. But when life is this good, it’s hard not wishing the good days could last forever.

#

When I walked into the math lab that afternoon, everyone stopped what they were doing and applauded.

Tran raced over to greet me at the door and bowed. “Welcome, my queen.”

I was so caught off guard I started blushing. “Shut up!” I said trying to play it off. I gave him a playful shove, and he pretended to fall on the floor.

I hadn’t been in the math lab since last semester when I got kicked off the team. It felt strange being back. It was good seeing Tran, Geoffrey and the other geeks smiling at me. I hadn’t hung with them for so long. I missed my friends.

But there was someone missing. Erin and I had joined the mathletes together. Now that she had transferred to another school, there was just me. It was another reminder of how much my life had changed in such a short period of time.

“I don’t know how we won the regionals without you,” Tran said, getting up off the floor. “But we’re going to need your brain if we’re going to win state.”

“It’s good to be back. What are we working on?”

“You ready for this, Barnett?” Tran asked, turning serious. “No more playing around like last semester.” He was obviously talking about Guy.

I bit my tongue. “Yes. I’m ready.”

He turned to Mrs. Brewster who was seated in the back. “I told you! We gonna kick some serious butt!”

“We’re doing a few warm-up exercises with different number bases. Join us,” Mrs. Brewster called.

And I did.

#

Ditch day at most high schools is a senior thing, a privilege the graduating class has bestowed upon themselves. But not at G.U. Sometime during the nineties, juniors began taking advantage of the day off, and before long it was a school-wide tradition.

The date for ditch day is always chosen by the senior class. They held onto that honor, holding secret meetings starting in December. Sometime after winter break, the date is announced. Once word is out, there is nothing teachers or administrators can do. They try to encourage students not to boycott school on ditch day. They request that parents talk to us. But it does no good. Even if you attended class on ditch day—which I usually did—there were so few students present after lunch, teachers couldn’t follow the lesson plan. And so the teachers and administrators quietly went along, pretending as though ditch day didn’t exist.

Local legend around The Explosion is another terrific piece of trivia. About ten years ago the Poplarati threw a ditch day party at some rich kid’s house whose parents were out of town. Alcohol was served. A lot of people got drunk and someone called the police. Parents and the administration were outraged that this had occurred on a school day, right under their noses. So the school decreed that if anyone was caught attending a daytime party on a school day, those persons would be expelled.