The Guardian (24 page)

Jonah snorts, a low grunt of derision. “She doesn’t seem all that broken up about the misfortunes of her best friend.”

“I’m sure she’s devastated,” Derry states diplomatically, as we watch her mime the universal gesture for pregnancy, “on the inside.”

Taking advantage of the boys’ distraction, Becke catches my eye and subtly fingers her dangling earrings, embracing dolphins. She mouths, “Did you say something to Jonah?”

Resisting the urge to glance at Gabriel, I wordlessly answer, “No,” and give my head a tiny shake. Technically, it’s true.

“Oh.” She bites her lip for a moment, chewing her suspicion over in her mind before letting go. “I like your necklace, Alex.”

My hand flies to the hollow of my throat as heat creeps up the back of my neck toward my face. I finger the cool metal before slipping the pendant under the edge of my sweater and pressing it against my heated skin. “Thanks.”

Now I do cast a quick but deliberate glance at Gabriel, catching his warm eyes before focusing my attention back to Becke. Although speaking to her, my words are meant for him. “I kinda have a thing for angels.” Because of my deep blush and the double meaning, my response comes out unintentionally coy.

“Since when?” Derry’s voice cuts through me, severe and demanding, just like his gray-brown eyes as he scrutinizes me sharply. He knows me too well to accept this information without an explanation.

Looking away from his probing eyes, I focus on the scarred table top hoping I’m not as transparent as I feel. “Since recently.”

I hear Derry open his mouth to protest, his challenge so severe it’s palpable. Fortunately, the bell rings, turning our thoughts to more disturbing matters. Although we’re starting a new semester, we still have to face Mr. Creepy for fifth period English. He teaches all sophomore and junior classes, so short of transferring schools or dropping out, we’ve no choice but to endure him.

Mr. Creepy’s halo is still disturbingly dark and volatile, and as I take my seat I pop a mint into my mouth to counteract the acrid taste it produces. He seems distracted, not in an emotional way but more dull and lifeless, as if even more of his humanity has been leeched away by darkness. And despite my revulsion at the thought, I can’t help but wonder if his condition has anything to do with Kendra Douglas and the rumors.

This semester, he informs us, we’ll be reading Shakespeare and other classics. Aloud. Our first work will be
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
For a second I worry he’ll chose readers at random but he surprises me by asking for volunteers. No one from our little group, back together in the third and fourth rows, steps forward, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

He pays us so little attention that I’m taken completely off guard when he calls my name on our way out to sixth period. In fact, I’m not sure he has said my name except the three boys surrounding me, Jonah with Becke in front, Gabriel at my side, and Derry at my back, immediately stiffen. Our entire group turns to face him as a single entity.

Without looking up, Mr. Creepy says, “Alexia, please see me after school.” Although his tone’s bland and businesslike, his halo begins to ooze around him like a thick oily tentacle.

Gabriel has a death grip on my hand. As I stare at him in panic, he shakes his head “no.”  My mouth is so dry, I can’t swallow down the acrid bile that rises from my throat as I try to make up an excuse as to why I can’t stay after. Mr. Creepy, however, cuts me off mid-sentence by declaring, “It’s not a request Alexia. Right now you are in danger of failing my class, so I expect to see you in the extra study session after school.” Without another word, he turns back to the papers on his desk, dismissing me.

On the way out, Derry whispers, “Are you really in danger of failing?” He’s as surprised by this as I am. Although English isn’t my best subject, I usually get solid Bs.

“I didn’t think I was.”

My mind is frantically reviewing recent tests and assignments when Jonah vocalizes my same conclusions. “He’s lying.”

Once we’re down the hall, Becke clutches my sleeve. “Don’t go Alexia. You don’t have to do what he says.”

Frustration gives my words an angry bite. “It’s fine. I can’t spend the rest of the year hiding. Maybe he’ll back down if I stand up to him.” I think of Mr. Creepy’s halo—how his evil feeds off fear—and realize I couldn’t be farther from the truth. But better me than some unsuspecting student. This is my problem to bear—my curse.

Jonah’s halo is back, swirling around him like agitated ash. Lacing his fingers through Becke’s, he reluctantly leads her away. Over her shoulder she implores, “Promise me you won’t go alone.”

But before I can reply, Derry slams his fist into a locker causing me to flinch. “Dammit! I can’t go with you, Lexi. If I don’t go right home, the Eccles are gonna send me back to The Children’s Center.” Then looking as pained as I’ve ever seen him, he begs, “Tell me what you want me to do. Whatever you want—I swear I’ll do it!”

I want to ask him to come with me, for both our sakes, but if I do, I could lose him again and I can’t take that risk. Feeling helpless to calm my friends or myself, I shrug, knowing they’re waiting for me to give them some direction. Yet it’s Gabriel—surprisingly quiet this entire time—who decides things for me.

Grimly, he says to Becke and Jonah before they disappear down the stairwell, “I’ll be with her.” Then to Derry he instructs, “Do what you have to with the Eccles. I promise I won’t let Alex out of my sight.”

Taking a step toward Gabriel, Derry gets in his face jabbing at him with an accusing finger. “You better not, Gabe. If anything happens to Lexi, I’m comin’ after you!”

Gabriel leans forward until Derry’s finger pokes into his chest. “If I let anything happen to her, I’ll save you the trouble by handing myself over.” They’re so tense I expect them to come to blows at any second.

Wedging myself between them, I wrap my arms around Derry’s neck. Against his ear I whisper, “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll be fine. You’ve got to go home, so you don’t get in trouble. Okay? I can’t lose you again.” As I let Derry go, I feel Gabriel’s protective arms wrap around my waist, embracing me from behind. For the briefest of moments, I’m sandwiched between them—the two boys who are everything to me.

Derry pulls away. His eyes are hard, his parting words a threat. “You
better
take care of her.” He gives me a look of such raw emotion that I expect him to say something profound. Instead, he spins on the heels of his new boots and stalks off without so much as a “goodbye.”

After school, Gabriel and I head straight to English class. Whatever’s coming, it’s best to get it over with. I remind myself that we’re in a public place, and nothing truly inappropriate can happen. But before we even enter the room I’m assaulted by the frenzy of Mr. Creepy’s dark halo. It whips around him in agitated chaos causing my head to pound and my stomach to wrench.

One single student—a member of the Mr. Abernathy fan club—sits in the back of the room, reading. Although it’s not allowed, she’s listening to her iPod with earbuds.

Looking from me to Gabriel, Mr. Creepy’s lips thin into a disapproving slash. Smoothly he asks, “Did you need me for something, Mr. Kustosz?”

Gabriel’s reply is equally as smooth and delivered with deceptive stoicism. “I’m waiting for Alex.”

Mr. Creepy sizes him up, calculating, before declaring, “I’m sorry but I have to submit the names of all the students in my makeup session ahead of time . You are not on that list—so you’re going to have to wait out in the hall.” When Gabriel doesn’t move, he adds, “Please be sure to close the door on your way out, Mr. Kustosz.”

Hesitating, Gabriel waits for me to nod before slowly retreating to the hall. Before he goes, he whispers, “I’ll be right out there if you need me.” With a quick squeeze of my hand he’s gone, leaving me alone with my disturbing English teacher.

I wait while Mr. Creepy pours water from a filtered pitcher into a paper cup and sets it at the edge of his desk. Looking up, he asks, “Would you like some water?”

Too sickened to play games, I try to get to the point. “What exactly is this about?”

“It’s about you failing my class,” he states. When I open my mouth to argue he continues. “This entire semester is based on participation. Reading aloud.” His beady eyes narrow shrewdly. “You don’t like reading aloud, do you Alexia?”

“Not really.” 

Although he’s pretending to be benign, I can see the twisted anticipation causing his halo to undulate. The movements remind me of the first day in his class. The lingering, the glassy eyes and x-rated thoughts. My skin crawls.

Looking away, I notice the handful of awards on the wall declaring him educator of the year.
Yeah, right!

“I know it can be embarrassing, but speaking in public is an important skill to learn. It is my duty as an educator to teach you.” He picks up a book and extends it toward me. “Here. I thought we’d start with Shakespeare’s poetry. Work our way up to his plays. Read the marked passage please.” Taking the book, I turn to go to the far side of the classroom when he orders, “Read from there please.”

Stopping in my tracks, I open the book to scan his selected text,
Venus and Adonis
, when he interrupts, “Aloud Alexia. To me.” As he glares at me, his small, feverish eyes dip from my face slowly down my body and lingering as I fumble through the text, reading it cold.

The poem’s about love and seduction but in such archaic words it’s hard to comprehend where the vulgarities lie. After about twenty stanzas, Mr. Creepy, interrupts quietly, “That’s enough.”

Wordlessly he offers me the cup of water, but even though I’m parched, the thought of taking it from him makes me sick. Setting it down with a small frown he admonishes, “It’s not enough to be able to read the words. You need to understand them, feel them…
taste
them. Read the next passage, please. Slowly, as if you are Venus speaking these words in earnest and for the first time.”

The most I’m able to comply is to speak slowly, as I read:

“'Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.”

Sliding his tongue between his thin lips to wet them, Mr. Creepy repeats in a husky voice, “What is Shakespeare talking about?”

Although it’s just words, just poetry, I feel violated, like I’ve just participated in something depraved. My stomach lurches. Doing my best not to vomit, I reach for the cup of water on the edge of the desk as Mr. Creepy asks, “What do you think it means Alexia?”

“Enough!”

Gabriel explodes through the door, seething with rage. His face is terrifying. Fierce and beautiful! His halo, blazing and huge like an inferno, fills the room and I’m surprised his fire doesn’t consume me. He’s too angry and I’m too close not to burn. “Come on Alex!” Moving faster than I can comprehend, he grabs my wrist and propels me behind him. The cup of water flies from my hand, through the air in a slow motion arc before I can consume any.

 “How dare you interrupt my session with a student, Mr. Kustosz? I could have you expelled for this.” Mr. Creepy is too calm. His voice is almost triumphant as if this was his goal all along. 

“You could try!” Gabriel seethes. “But the odds are I can put you in the hospital before you can get me kicked out of school.”

Too stunned to feel relief, I watch Mr. Creepy hesitate, calculating. His thin lips pinch as he whines, “You may go, Miss Grabovski.”

Gabriel practically surrounds me as he ushers me roughly from the room. After he shoves me into the hallway, he turns back to face Mr. Creepy one final time. “If you
ever
come near Alex again, I WILL END YOU!”

He means it.

Grabbing my forearm, he pulls me down the hall, barely stopping to grab our coats before propelling me out of the building. Despite the snow covered ground, he doesn’t slow as we cross Fort Thomas Avenue. Instead he drags me alongside of him, growling, “Let’s go.”

Halfway down Midlands he falters. I’ve never seen him so angry. His flushed face is scarlet, his nostrils flaring like a wild thing. I resist the urge to shield my eyes from his halo, which blazes blindingly white as he bristles furiously from head to toe. I’m at a loss as to how to calm him.

Veering off our regular course, Gabriel takes a sharp right onto Euclid and pulls me toward the little park at the end of the street. This time of year, the neighborhood park is deserted. Private. Once we are off the street, he falters again, looking around in confusion.

My arm hurts where his fingers dig into the flesh. Suddenly he looks at the spot where he’s gripping me too tightly. His hand pulls away as if burnt, and he gasps, his ragged breath hitching in his throat as he sees the physical marks his rage leaves on my body. I want to tell him it’s okay—that the marks will heal and no harm is done—but the wild, haunted gleam in his eyes stops my words.

His searing eyes seem to beg mine for reassurance, but as I reach for him, he tenses like a cornered animal. “It’s going to be okay,” I croon, spreading my arms. “Come here.”

Although he lets me pull him into my embrace he remains stiff, at first, quivering as I hold him. Then he’s suddenly gripping me back so tightly I think my ribs may crack. But I don’t care. Gabriel shudders. With a loud keening moan, his body convulses into violent sobbing.