Read Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) Online
Authors: Sara Mack
Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy)
Guardian
By
S
ARA
M
ACK
Guardian (Book 1 in The
Guardian Trilogy)
Copyright © 2013 Sara Mack
All
Rights Reserved
First
Kindle Edition: 2013
Cover art by S. Mack & S.M.
Koz
Edited
by Abbie Gale Lemmon -
[email protected]
Without
limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above
author of this book.
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The
author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products listed in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized,
associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Dedicated to
Koz, Aubs, Bree, and Abbie Gale
Thank
you for living in my fictional world
e
I sit and
stare. My gaze is concentrated on a plant, an orchid. One single, curved stem
holds six fuchsia flowers, each with a white center. The plant is beautiful. I
allow a small part of my mind to wonder who might have sent it, while the rest
of my consciousness blocks the reason why.
Faces
blur in and out of my vision, and I hear muffled voices. They remind me of the
old
Peanuts
cartoons that come on around the holidays, where the adult
voices sound garbled. I know the blurry, muffle-voiced people mean well; they
remind me of the “Great Pumpkin” episode in which all Charlie Brown gets trick-or-treating
is rocks. Rocks. My chest feels full of them. It’s hard to breathe.
My
grandma takes a seat next to me. I can tell it’s her because she takes my hand
in hers and her skin feels like sandpaper. Grandma Ethel’s skin has always felt
this way. I can sense her getting settled in her chair when something hits my
foot. Instinctively, I reach down to pick up the purse she has dropped. My
concentration on the plant is broken, and I remember why I am here.
A
scream rips through my throat.
I
lift my face toward the sun, its brightness illuminating the darkness behind my
eyelids. I have escaped my house and walked to a nearby park with the excuse
of needing to get out and enjoy the warmth while it lasts. Michigan weather is
never predictable, so this excuse is accepted. My hope is that the sun will
burn me and redden my skin to replace the sorrow in my heart with physical pain.
A pain that can be relieved and cured. Something that I know has an end,
something I can see healing.
“There
you are.”
Squinting,
I see the outline of a person walking toward me. As it gets closer, my eyes
focus on my best friend, Shel.
“Your
mom told me I’d find you here.” She produces two bottles of water and offers
me one. “Thirsty?”
I shake
my head.
She
sits down next to me and opens her bottle. “It’s warm for this time of year.”
We sit
in silence for countless minutes staring at the park. A family of three plays
in the sand by the water, taking advantage of the spontaneous warm weather. A
few people hang out on a shaded picnic table; a jogger runs along the
sidewalk. I play with the grass underneath my fingers as Shel follows my lead
and watches what is going on around us. I’ve known Shel forever, since
elementary school, and even she can’t bring up what’s happened. I suppose for
fear of my reaction. But that’s okay. I’d rather sit here in silence
indefinitely than discuss it.
“So,”
she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair. “When are you going back to
school?”
“I’m
not,” I turn to look at her. “I’ll be finishing from home.”
Her
brown eyes widen. “Oh. Online?”
I nod.
“You heading back this weekend?”
“Saturday.”
“I’m sorry
I haven’t been much company.”
“No
worries,” she says and lounges back on her elbows. “I’ll be coming home for
the summer; I need a break.”
During
our senior year, Shel was selected to attend the University of Michigan on an
accelerated scholarship which meant she started her college classes during our
last semester of high school. She’s been attending college longer than anyone
I know. It doesn’t help that she wants to be an M.D.; she’ll never be done
with school.
“I
talked to Matt yesterday,” she says. “He told me to tell you he’s thinking
about you. He tried to catch up with you the other day, but…you know…”
I pull
my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them. “Tell him I said hi.”
She
nods. “You know you do have to eat, right?”
Obviously
my mother has mentioned my lack of appetite. “I know.”
“I was
told your dinner would be ready in an hour.”
We sit
in silence and watch the sun fade. The small family packs their blanket and
leaves, the friends say goodbye and leave the picnic table. The jogger has long
since run off.
“Em?”
“Hmm?”
“Are
you going to be okay?” Shel asks quietly.
I
can’t answer her.
Rubbing
the sleep from my eyes, I check the alarm clock. 10:42 a.m. Yawning, I
stretch and then change position, snuggling into my old bed and familiar
smelling sheets. I don’t think my mom has used a different detergent since I
was born. The smell is comforting.
“Knock,
knock,” my dad says as he cracks open my bedroom door.
I pick
up my head. “Hey dad.”
“Mornin’,”
he says as he opens the door wide. “Just checking to see if you’re awake.
Hungry?”
I’m not,
but I don’t want to admit it. For the first time since I’ve been home I notice
a significant amount of gray now peppers my father’s brown hair. Positive I am
the cause I answer, “Sure,” even though hunger is a need I haven’t felt in a
long time.
His slate
blue eyes light up. “What’ll it be?”
“Cereal
is fine.”
“You
sure? I can make pancakes.”
Pancakes
are somewhat of my dad’s specialty. This is how I know he’s hurting for me but
can’t express it. Dad’s pancakes usually only get made for special occasions,
like birthdays. “I guess so, if you want to.”
A smile
breaks across his face. “Coming right up.”
As he
closes the door, I sit up slowly and catch a look at myself in the dresser
mirror. I can see why everyone is concerned; I look like shit. No amount of
makeup is going to cover my eye bags. The puffy, dark shadows look painted on
my light skin. Peeling myself out of bed, I brush my teeth, attempt to tame my
hair into a messy ponytail, and then head downstairs to the familiar smell of pancakes.
Unfortunately, the buttery aroma does nothing for my appetite.
“There
she is,” my dad smiles at me, spatula in hand. “Just in time.”
I take
a seat at the kitchen island as he slides an “E” shaped pancake onto a waiting
plate. “For you, madam.”
I give
him a small smile. “Where’s the syrup?”
“In the
fridge.”
I stand
and walk over to the refrigerator, reaching for the handle. Something catches
my eye and I freeze. I can see the corner of a picture peeking out from behind
a calendar. I slowly lift the paper, preparing myself to be confronted with a
stinging memory. Instead I see Michael and Kate, my older brother and his
girlfriend, staring back at me, smiling with their new puppy, Jake.
I open
the fridge, grab the syrup, and go back to my “E.”
“Good
morning,” I hear my mom come through the door after her morning run. She
smiles at me as she takes off her shoes. “How’d you sleep?”
“Okay.”
“Good,”
she says. She walks over and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m happy
you’re eating something.”
I nod
and take a bite. I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s more for my dad’s
benefit than mine.
“Michael
will be over in about a half an hour so we can head out,” she tells my dad.
Turning to me she adds, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
I nod.
My parents and brother are heading to my dorm room at Western Michigan to
gather my things, since I won’t be returning to the campus until next fall. “I
think it’ll be better if I stay here.”
My
mom’s face crinkles and her caramel-colored eyes soften into her worried/I’m so
sorry/I don’t know what to do look that I’ve seen a million times over the last
week and a half. I can’t bear to tell her that I’m afraid I will start
screaming again if I see all of my memories from the past three years in one
place, let alone try to pack them away in a box.
“Well,
what will you do all day?” she asks worriedly.
I want
to tell her that I won’t off myself, but instead I say, “I’ll be catching up on
some reading. Once I get my laptop back I can start submitting my late
assignments.”
This
appears to ease her worry. “All right. You have our numbers if you need us.
And Mrs. Miller is next door too.”
I nod.
She
releases her auburn hair from her low pony, and it falls to her shoulders,
thick and mop-like. “I’m going to shower. Dale, did you put gas in the
truck?”
“Yes,
ma’am.” My dad salutes her with the spatula.
I look
down at my plate. I’ve only managed to eat my “E” into an “L.” I poke at my
alphabetical pancake, not wanting the rest of it.
“Here’s
a stack for Michael,” my dad says, setting a plate of pancakes down by me. My
brother is always hungry. “Coffee’s kicking in,” he winks as he heads to the
bathroom.
Now my
appetite is really gone. I sit and poke at my breakfast for a few more minutes
before deciding that now is the time to throw it away without anyone seeing
me. I head over to the wastebasket and toss it in. Even better, I return to
the island with the empty plate in an effort to reassure my parents that I’ve
eaten and I’m feeling less depressed.
I hear
the back door creak open and slam shut. A moment later a taller version of my
father appears in the kitchen. “Hey Ems.” My brother walks over and gives me
a lopsided one-armed hug. “Feeling okay today?”
I nod
and lean in to his awkward hug. That’s the extent of his inquiry. What else
can he say? What do you say to someone who, just days ago, you had to pull off
a casket screaming? He releases me and digs into the stack of pancakes, instinctively
knowing they are for him.
“Hey
Mike,” my dad says as he reenters the kitchen. My brother waves his fork at
him, mouth full. Dad eyes my empty plate. “Want another? I’ll make you
another.” His hands are busy whisking before I can tell him no.
Soon
they are all ready to head out the door to bring my college life back to me in
boxes. I follow my mother and brother to the door, so I can watch them leave.
My dad turns off the stove and pauses to place more breakfast on my plate. He
gives me a quick hug as he passes me.
I make
my way back to my seat at the island and look down. A pancake in the shape of
the letter “J” awaits me. I suck in my breath and turn quickly to look at my
father with wide eyes before he steps out the door. Our gaze locks.
“I miss
him too,” he says quietly, closing the door behind him.