Halo (23 page)

“I don’t think so,” he said, staring at me. “Not now—not with people like you around.”

The bell rang, and I packed up my books quickly, eager to go and meet Xavier.

“See you soon, Bethany,” said Jake. “Perhaps we’ll work more productively next time.”

I was seized by a sudden wave of insecurity when I caught up with Xavier at the lockers. For some reason I felt unsettled and wanted nothing more than to feel his protective arms around me, even though they had already spent most of the day in that position. As he put his books away, I ducked under his arm and clung to him like a limpet.

“Whoa,” he said, his arms closing around me. “It’s good to see you too. You okay?”

“Yes,” I said, burying my face in his shirt and inhaling his familiar scent. “Just missed you.”

“We’ve been apart an hour.” Xavier laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

We made our way to the parking lot together. Gabriel and Ivy had granted Xavier permission to drive me home occasionally, which he saw as great progress. His car was parked in its usual spot under the shade of a row of oak trees, and he opened the door for me. I wasn’t sure what he thought might happen if I was permitted to open my own door. Maybe he was worried it would fly off its hinges and flatten me or I might sprain my wrist trying to open it. Or maybe he was just brought up with good old-fashioned manners.

Xavier didn’t switch on the ignition until I had put my seat belt on and stowed my bag safely in the backseat. Gabriel had told him I was susceptible to pain and injury and that my human form could be damaged. Xavier was taking it all very much to heart and pulled out of the parking lot with an expression of intense concentration.

But even Xavier’s careful driving wasn’t able to prevent what happened next. As we were turning onto the main road, a shiny black motorcycle shot out from nowhere and cut across us. Xavier slammed on the brakes, sending the Chevy lurching forward and narrowly avoiding a collision. We veered to the right, hitting the curb. I was flung forward, my seat belt catching me and throwing me painfully back against the seat. The motorcycle screamed away down the street, leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake. Xavier stared dumbfounded after it, before quickly turning to make sure I was all right. Once he was satisfied that I was unharmed he was able to unleash his anger.

“What the hell was that?” he fumed. “What an idiot! Did you see who was driving? If I ever find out who that was, so help me God, I’ll introduce his head to a pole.”

“It was hard to see his face under the helmet,” I said quietly.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Xavier growled. “You don’t see too many Yamaha V Star 250s around here.”

“How do you know the bike model?” I asked.

“I’m a boy. We like engines.”

Xavier drove me home, glaring suspiciously at passing cars as though the incident was likely to be repeated. By the time we pulled up in front of Byron, he seemed to have calmed down a little.

“I made lemonade,” Ivy said as she opened the front door. She looked so domestic in her apron that both of us had to smile. “Why don’t you come in, Xavier?” she asked. “You can do your homework with Bethany.”

“Uh, no, thanks, I’ve got some chores I promised Mom I’d do,” Xavier hedged.

“Gabriel’s not here.”

“In that case, sure, thanks.”

My sister ushered us both inside and shut the door. Phantom charged from the kitchen when he heard our voices and knocked against our legs by way of greeting.

“Homework first, walk later,” I said.

We spread our books out on the dining room table. Xavier had to finish a psychology report, and I had to analyze a political cartoon for history. The cartoon was of King Louis XVI standing beside a throne and looking very pleased with himself. I was supposed to be interpreting the significance of the objects around him.

“What do you call that thing he’s holding?” I asked Xavier. “I can’t see it properly.”

“It looks like a fire poker to me,” Xavier said.

“I highly doubt that Louis XVI poked his own fires. I think it’s a scepter. And what’s he’s wearing?”

“Mmm . . . a poncho?” Xavier suggested.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll get top grades with your help.”

In truth, the homework I had been assigned and the grades I would be awarded for my effort, didn’t interest me in the slightest. The things I wanted to learn didn’t come from textbooks; they came from experiences and interactions. But Xavier was concentrating on his psych report, and I didn’t want to distract him any further so I put my head down and peered at the cartoon. My attention span turned out to be unnaturally short.

“If you could take back one thing you’ve done in your life, what would it be?” I asked, tickling Phantom’s nose with my fluffy-tipped pen. He caught the pen between his teeth, thinking it was some kind of furry animal and trotted off victoriously.

Xavier put down his own pen and looked at me quizzically. “Don’t you mean: What is the independent variable in the Stanford Prison Experiment?”

“Yawn,” I said.

“I’m afraid some of us aren’t blessed with divine knowledge.”

I sighed. “I can’t believe that stuff really interests you?”

“It doesn’t. But I have no choice, Beth,” he said. “I have to get into college and get a decent job if I want to succeed—it’s reality.” He laughed. “Well, I guess it’s not your reality, but it sure as hell is mine.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. The idea of Xavier getting older, of having to work the same job day in and day out to provide for a family until the day he died, made me want to cry. I wanted his life to be easy, and I wanted him to spend it with me.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

He slid his chair closer to me. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’d much rather be doing this . . .” And he leaned across and kissed my hair, his lips moving along until they found my chin and finally my mouth.

“I’d much rather spend all of my time talking to you, being with you, discovering you,” he said. “But just because I’ve walked into this crazy fantasy, doesn’t mean I can just abandon my other plans, much as I might want to. My parents still expect me to get into a top college.” He frowned. “It’s important to them.”

“Is it important to you?” I asked.

“I suppose,” he replied. “What else is there?”

I nodded—I knew what it was like to have to live up to family expectations.

“You have to do what makes you happy as well,” I said.

“That’s why I have you.”

“How am I supposed to study if you go on saying things like that?” I complained.

“There’s more where that came from,” Xavier teased.

“Is that what you spend your spare time doing?”

“You got me. All I do is write down lines to impress women.”

“Women?”

“Sorry—one woman,” he rectified as I scowled at him. “One woman who is worth a thousand women.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said. “Don’t try and dig yourself out of this one.”

“So gracious.” Xavier shook his head. “So forgiving and compassionate.”

“Don’t push it, buddy,” I said, putting on a thuggish voice.

Xavier hung his head.

“I apologize . . . jeez, I’m whipped.”

I continued with the history task while he finished writing his report. He still had a stack of homework left, but in the end I proved too much of a distraction. He had just completed his third trig problem when I felt his hand wander over to my lap. I slapped it gently.

“Keep studying,” I said when he looked up from the page. “No one said you could stop.”

He smiled and scrawled something at the bottom of the answer sheet. The solution now read:

Find
x
if (
x
) = 2sin3
x
, over the domain -2π <
x
< 2π

“Stop goofing around!” I said.

“I’m not! I’m stating a truth. You’re my solution to everything,” Xavier replied. “The end result is always you.
X
always equals Beth.”

Into the Woods

I was nervous about meeting Xavier’s family on Saturday. He’d invited me several times already, and it had become impossible to refuse without looking as though I wasn’t interested. Besides, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet them; I was just terrified about how they might react to meeting me.

At school, after the first-day nerves had evaporated, I’d never been too bothered about how I was perceived by my peers. But Xavier’s family was different; they actually mattered. I wanted them to like me, and I wanted them to think that Xavier’s life had been enhanced by our relationship. In short, I wanted their approval. Molly had told me no end of stories about her ex-boyfriend Kyle, whom her parents had thoroughly disapproved of, even going so far as to refuse him entry into the house. I was sure the Woods clan couldn’t object to me that strongly, but if they didn’t like me, their influence might be strong enough to affect Xavier’s feelings for me.

When Saturday came, Xavier’s car pulled into our driveway at precisely two minutes to five as arranged. We headed off toward his house, which was on the other side of town, about a ten-minute drive away. By the time we pulled into his street, I had a hundred negative thoughts whirring through my brain. What if they thought my pale complexion was due to illness or a drug addiction? What if they thought I wasn’t good enough for Xavier and that he could do better? What if I accidentally said or did something embarrassing, as I often did when I was nervous? What if his doctor parents noticed there was something different about me. Wasn’t it their job to notice? What if Claire or Nicola thought my clothes were unfashionable? Ivy had helped me choose my outfit: a sleeveless navy dress with cream buttons down the front and a round collar. It was, as Molly would say, classy and very Chanel. But everything else was still one big question mark.

“Would you just relax!” said Xavier as I ran my hands through my hair and smoothed down my dress for the tenth time since we’d left home. “I can almost hear your heart from here. They’re good, church-going people. They’re obliged to like you. Even if they don’t, which is impossible, you’ll never notice. But they’re going to love you, they already do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve told them all about you, and they’ve been dying to meet you in person for ages,” he said. “So you can stop acting like you’re going to meet the executioners now.”

“You could show a little more sympathy,” I said testily. “I have a lot to be worried about. You are so horrid sometimes!”

Xavier burst into laughter. “Did you just call me horrid?” he asked.

“I certainly did. You don’t even care that I’m nervous!”

“Of course I care,” he said patiently. “But I’m telling you that there’s nothing to worry about. My mom is already your biggest fan, and everybody else is excited about meeting you. For a while they suspected I was making you up. I’m telling you this to make you feel better, because I
care
, and now I demand that you retract your insult. I can’t live with the stigma of being labeled
horrid
.”

“I take it back.” I said, smiling. “But you are a dunce.”

“My self-esteem is taking a serious bashing today,” he said, shaking his head. “First I’m horrid, now a dunce. . . . I guess that makes me a horrid dunce.”

“I’m just worried.” My smile faded. “What if they compare me with Emily? What if they don’t think I measure up to her?”

“Beth”—Xavier cupped my face in his hands and made me look at him—“you’re incredible. They’re going to see that right away. And besides, my mom didn’t like Emily.”

“Why not?”

“She was too impulsive.”

“Impulsive how?” I asked, puzzled.

“She had some issues,” Xavier said. “Her parents were divorced, she didn’t see her dad, and sometimes she did things without thinking them through. I was always there to keep her safe, thank God, but it didn’t make her too popular with my family.”

“If you could change things and have her back, would you?” I asked.

“Emily’s dead,” Xavier said. “And that’s how life played out for us. Then you came along. I might have been in love with her then, but I’m in love with
you
now. And if she came back today, she’d still be my oldest friend, but you’d still be my girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Xav,” I said. “I just feel sometimes like you’re only with me because you lost the one you were meant to be with.”

“But can’t you see, Beth?” he insisted. “I was never meant to be with Em. I was destined to love her and lose her. You’re the one I’m meant to be with.”

“I think I understand now.” I took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “Thanks for explaining it to me. I know I sound like a baby.”

Xavier winked. “An adorable baby.”

Everything about Xavier’s home suggested comfort. It was a big, recently built neo-Georgian house with neat hedges and pillars by the shiny front door. Inside, the walls were painted white and the floors were wood parquet. The front of the house, with its plush living room, was reserved for guests, while the open area at the back, which overlooked the deck and pool, was where the family of eight spent most of their time. Deep sofas draped with fluffy throws faced a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The dining table was cluttered with a collection of girlie paraphernalia, a basket of folded laundry sat in one corner, and several pairs of sneakers were lined up by the back door. Opposite the TV was a toy corner, with a collection of Barbie dolls, trucks, and puzzles designed to keep the youngest children occupied. A ginger cat lay curled in a basket. I noticed a whiteboard on one wall where family members had scrawled messages for one another.

Maybe it had something to do with the smell of cooking in the air, or the voices calling to one another from all around the house, but the place had a welcoming feel despite its size.

Xavier led me into the large kitchen where his mother was frantically trying to finish up her cooking and tidy the house at the same time. She seemed to be doing everything at super-speed but still managed to give me a warm smile when I came in. I could see Xavier’s face in hers, right away. They both had the same straight nose and vivid blue eyes.

“You must be Beth!” she said, putting a saucepan down to simmer on the stove and coming over to hug me. “We’ve heard so much about you. I’m Bernadette—but you can call me Bernie, everyone does.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Bernie. Do you need any help?” I asked immediately.

“Now, that’s something I don’t hear very often around here,” Bernie said.

Taking my arm, she showed me a stack of napkins to fold and plates to dry. Xavier’s father wandered in from where he’d been lighting the barbecue on the deck under the shade provided by triangular white sails. He was tall and lanky with a thatch of brown hair, and wore round glasses like a professor. I could see where Xavier got his stature from.

“Got her doing housework already,” he said with a chuckle, shaking my hand and introducing himself as Peter.

Giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Xavier went to help his father with the barbecue. While I helped Bernie set the table, I looked around at the wonderful domestic disorder of this house. A baseball game was playing on the TV; I could hear the sounds of running feet upstairs as well as someone rehearsing a very basic piece on the clarinet. Bernie bustled around me, carrying platters to the table. It was all so gloriously normal.

“I’m sorry the place is such a mess,” Bernie said apologetically. “It was Jasmine’s birthday a few days ago, and it’s been chaos around here.”

I smiled. It didn’t matter to me how messy the place was—I felt surprisingly at home.

“I told you not to touch my razor blades,” someone shouted, and I heard the sound of feet stomping downstairs.

Xavier, who had come in to collect some plates, gave an exaggerated sigh. “Now would be a good time to make your escape,” he murmured to me.

“For God’s sake, you have a whole pack, stop your whining,” another voice replied.

“That was my last one, and now it’s got your gross skin cells all over it.” A door slammed and a girl with brown curls pulled back from her face with a headband appeared. She was wearing a red tank top and lycra shorts, as though she had been exercising. “Mom, can you make Claire stay out of my room?” she demanded.

“I didn’t go in your room. You left them in the bathroom,” Claire called through the door.

“Why don’t you just move out and live with Luke already?” her sister yelled back.

“Believe me, I would if I could.”

“I hate you! This is so unfair.” The girl seemed to suddenly notice my presence and took a break from shouting to look me up and down. “Who’s this?” she asked brusquely.

“Nicola!” Bernie snapped at her. “Where are your manners? This is Beth. Beth, this is my fifteen year old—Nicola.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said grudgingly. “I don’t know what you’d want to date
him
for anyway,” she added, jerking her head in Xavier’s direction. “He’s a total loser and his jokes suck.”

“Nicola’s going through her angsty teen phase, and she’s lost her sense of humor,” Xavier explained. “Otherwise she’d appreciate my sharp wit.”

Nicola looked daggers at him. I was spared having to formulate some sort of response by the entrance of Xavier’s eldest sister, Claire. Her hair was straight like Xavier’s and hung loose around her shoulders. She was wearing a knitted cardigan, black jeans, and high boots. Despite the previous shouting match, I could see that her face was friendly.

“Wow, Xav, you didn’t tell us Beth was so stunning,” Claire said, coming over and giving me a hug.

“Actually, I think I did,” Xavier replied.

“Well, we didn’t believe you.” Claire laughed. “Hi, Beth, welcome to the zoo.”

“Congratulations on your engagement,” I said.

“Thanks, but it’s so stressful at the moment, I don’t know if Xavier’s filled you in. Just yesterday I got a call from the catering company who said . . .”

Xavier smiled and left us to talk. I didn’t have much to say, but Claire chatted easily about the wedding arrangements, and I was more than happy to listen to her. I wondered why such a happy occasion should be so difficult. According to her, everything that could go wrong was going wrong, and she wondered whether she had broken a mirror or something to bring about such bad luck.

Bernie came back into the kitchen, looking for Xavier, who stuck his head through the back door, holding a pair of tongs.

“Xavier, hon, run upstairs and get the little ones down here to meet Beth. They’re watching
The Lion King
.” Bernie turned to me. “It’s the only way I can get them to be quiet for half an hour.”

Xavier winked at me and disappeared into the hallway. A few minutes later I heard him coming down the stairs, followed by the sound of little bare feet slapping against the floor.

Jasmine, Madeline, and Michael burst into the room. They stopped dead when they saw me and stared openly in the way only small children can get away with. Madeline and Michael were the two youngest ones, and they both had blond hair, big brown eyes, and smudged faces from eating chocolate cookies not too carefully. Jasmine, who had just turned nine, was a very serious-looking child with big blue eyes. She had long Alice in Wonderland hair held back with a satin ribbon.

“Beth!” Michael and Madeline yelled, overcoming their initial shyness. They sprinted over and took a hand each, pulling me toward the toy corner. Bernie looked a little worried about the onslaught, but I didn’t mind. I liked spending time with the souls of children in the Kingdom, and this was much the same, only messier.

“Will you play with us?” they pleaded.

“Not now,” said Bernie. “Wait till after dinner before you go annoying poor Beth.”

“I’m sitting next to Beth at the table,” announced Michael.

“No, I am,” said Madeline, shoving him. “I saw her first.”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

“Hey, hey, you can both sit next to Beth,” said Claire, wrapping her arms around them and tickling them.

I was suddenly aware of a little figure at my side. Jasmine was looking up at me with her wide, pale eyes. “They’re very noisy,” she said softly. “I like quiet better.”

Xavier, who had come to stand next to me, laughed and ruffled her hair.

“She’s very thoughtful, this one,” he said. “Always away with the fairies.”

“I believe in fairies,” said Jasmine. “Do you?”

“I certainly do,” I replied and kneeled down beside her. “I believe in all those things, fairies and mermaids and angels.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And just between you and me, I’ve seen them.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened, and her little rosebud mouth fell open in surprise. “You have? I wish I could see them.”

“Oh, but you can,” I told her. “You just have to look very carefully. Sometimes you find them in places where you least expect them.”

When it was time to eat, I saw that Bernie and Peter had cooked up a feast. I looked at the platters of barbecued pork and sausages and ribs and felt suddenly very worried. Xavier must have forgotten to tell them that I didn’t eat meat. It wasn’t ethics so much as that our constitution didn’t handle meat well. It was difficult to digest and made us sluggish. Even if this hadn’t been the case, I wouldn’t have wanted to eat it anyway. The very idea made my stomach churn. But they had gone to so much trouble, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them. Luckily, I didn’t have to.