The Guardian (33 page)

Becke stills as I plead with her to wait. For a split second, she looks at me imploringly, as if I have the answers she so desperately needs. Taking a compliant step in my direction, she swings her book bag with all of her might. I hear it whistle through the air seconds before impact as it smashes into my shoulder. The force knocks me to the ground and  I lose my breath..

When I come to my senses, I’m alone in the hall. Torn between following after Becke and addressing the concern of my friends, I sit undecidedly on the floor. If I go to class, what do I say to ease their concern? What can I say? But if I follow Becke, they’ll all come after us and the need to shield Jonah is too compelling. He can’t see her like she is right now—hear her terrible accusations.

A noise just beyond the corner at the far end of the corridor helps me to make up my mind. Scrambling to my feet, I turn and head toward English.

Gabriel, Derry, and Jonah stare holes into me as I slink into class late. There’s too much to say, so rather than meet their gazes, I stare resolutely at my shoes. As I take my seat, Mr. Creepy leers. “Where is Miss Finch?” he asks.

“She went home sick. I was late because I was helping her.”

“I see.” Thin lips tighten into a gray slash as his oily halo begins to slide around his body with increased activity. “Miss Grabovski, you will need to see me after school to make up the fifteen minutes you missed of my class.”

I don’t answer, because there’s no way in hell I’m staying after. I’d rather have detention. I tell the boys as much as soon as we’re safely in the hallway alcove. Biting at his lip, Jonah demands, “How’s Becke?”

Not wanting him to know about his girlfriend’s allegations, I phrase my words carefully. “I’m not sure. She hasn’t been sleeping well and her doctor thinks her illness might have triggered some depression. He put her on some medicine but I think she’s having a bad reaction to it or something.”

The total shock on Jonah’s face tells me he had no clue what was really going on or how severe things are. Pushing his inky hair off his face, he frowns. “I’m going to go talk to her after school.”

“No.” I lightly touch his arm, pleading, “Give her some space. Let me talk to her first.”

Jonah’s halo darkens into a smoky film curling around him. Looking from me to Gabriel and then to Derry he asks, “Should I wait?” When they nod, he bites his lip again. “Okay, but only until tomorrow.”

On the way home, I tell Gabriel and Derry the real story of what happened. When I get to Becke’s accusation, Derry’s head whips from side to side, a forceful manifestation of his disbelief. “Jonah? She said Jonah raped her?” I nod. “No way!”

Gabriel squeezes my arm. “I don’t believe it either.”

“The medication she’s on seems to be making her confused. I think we need to step in. Have an intervention or something. But who should we tell?”

Derry’s guileless eyes are troubled, mirroring the helplessness I feel. “Let’s talk to Steven and Kate tonight and see what they suggest.”

He’s right, of course. They’re exactly who we should turn to for help. When we get to the Fosters’, Derry goes inside to call Kate and prepare her for our discussion. Once we’re alone, Gabriel pulls me into his arms, holding on to me so tightly I think I might break a rib. But I don’t care. Clinging to him is the only thing that makes sense at the moment. His smell, his warmth, his love.

“Are you okay, Alexia?”

It feels so good to be surrounded by him. Inhaling deeply and then burrowing even closer as I exhale, I say, “Just a few bruises. I’ll live.”

“And Becke?”

“She’s bad. It’s like she’s having a breakdown or something.”

Despite my gift, despite Gabriel’s angelic nature, despite even the steadfast love of her boyfriend, we’re powerless to end her suffering. All we can do is get her help, whether she wants it or not. And I wonder how she’ll feel about our interference, even with the best of intentions. Will it destroy our friendship?

When Gabriel finally kisses me, there’s urgency in his touch. Considering what’s happening with our friends, it makes sense. As Jonah and Becke’s relationship falls apart, we’re reminded of our own destiny. Taking a breath, Gabriel presses his forehead to mine. “I love you, Alexia. I will love you forever!”

And he means it. He is, after all, eternal.

*

When Kate arrives at five-thirty—with an instant dinner of pizza and salad—and Steven appears just minutes later, I’m more than ready to enlist their help. Over dinner, I tell them everything about Becke—the nightmares, the deteriorating behavior, the medication, the rape claim—all of it.

As she listens, Kate’s warm chocolate eyes fill with concern. “I’m not an expert, but it sounds to me like something happened to her. Something horrible her conscious mind’s trying to shield her from. She needs a second opinion and a therapist.”

Although Steven’s distress has colored his face a deep red, his voice is controlled as he asks, “Are you sure that Jonah didn’t—”

“No!” Derry and I respond simultaneously and emphatically.

“What about this Mr. Abernathy?” Kate asks. “Are you certain he didn’t take advantage of her?”

Shaking his head, Derry answers, “I wouldn’t put it past him—he gives me a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. But Becke said he dropped her off at 4:05. So he would’ve had less than ten minutes with her. And that was the only time she was alone with him.”

Hastily, I add, “But I think he did take advantage of another student. Kendra Douglas. She never returned after the winter break. I heard she got pregnant and dropped out. It was rumored that a teacher was involved.”

Steven stares at us, his features hard with the severity of the accusation. “Sexual misconduct is a very serious allegation to make against a teacher.”

Derry nods, encouraging me to continue. “I know. And we’ve got no proof, just a general creeped-out impression. But my instincts tell me Mr. Abernathy’s a perv, and I trust them.”

Slipping her hand over her husbands, Kate affirms, “We have instincts for a reason. Tomorrow after school we’ll talk to the principal—all of us—and enlist her help to talk to Becke’s parents.”

Thankfulness wells up inside of me, making me want to cry. I’m thankful the Fosters believe me and are willing to shoulder my burden. Thankful for Derry, who trusted enough to suggest going to them in the first place. And especially thankful for Gabriel, who has stood in the gap between me and Mr. Creepy since the second day of school. My very own divinely appointed Greater Seraph.

The next morning as we eat breakfast, Derry inquires, “I don’t suppose I could talk you into skipping school?”

With everything going on, I can’t believe he’s asking me this. When I tell him as much he says, “I’ve got a bad feeling about today. I can’t explain it exactly, but I think you should stay home.”

“No. Sitting home—wondering about Becke and Jonah—would be torture.”

With a veiled expression, Derry turns away to stare out the window. “Okay, Lexi. It was just a suggestion.”

The seven blocks to Midlands seems longer than usual, almost as if the oppressiveness surrounding us is a physical mass. Like Derry’s bad feeling, it’s an omen that I’m headed in the wrong direction. But I’m done running. With the strength of my friends and foster family, I need to face my fear head on. For myself and for Becke.

When we arrive, Jonah approaches us in the courtyard. “Have you seen Becke this morning?”

When Derry says ‘no’ Jonah pulls a note from his pocket and hands it to me. “I thought she’d be here. I found this on my windshield this morning.”

Opening it, so Gabriel and Derry can read over my shoulders, I absorb the two hastily scrawled sentences.
I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. —B

Jonah swallows like he’s trying to keep his feelings from erupting. His halo has darkened another shade since yesterday. “It’s her handwriting. I think she’s breaking up with me. I must’ve left her at least twenty messages since yesterday. What should I do?”

“We’re going to talk to Principal Reynolds after school and ask her to intervene with Becke’s parents. Come with us.”

“Okay.”

The bell interrupts our conversation and as we reluctantly head to class, I wish the day would fast forward to the important parts. When Becke still hasn’t appeared after first period, Jonah announces, “I’m going to talk to her.” My plea for him to reconsider causes him to shake his head stubbornly. “My girlfriend’s in pain. I can’t wait and do nothing. I’ll explode.” As if to underscore his point, his ashy halo whips around him in a tight revolution before settling. His face hardens with his unwavering resolve. “I’ll see you guys later.”

By lunchtime, Jonah still hasn’t returned. It’s a bad sign. My stomach knots with tension, and I throw my half-eaten lunch away.

When we get to English, Mr. Creepy’s perched on the edge of his desk. His thick, oily halo slides around him as his beady eyes track me to my seat. “Miss Grabovski, come here please.”

With a quick, sharp squeeze, I pull my hand away from Gabriel’s iron grip and walk boldly to the front of the class. I can feel my guardian and Derry staring holes in my back, but it doesn’t matter. In that moment, all that matters is the asshole teacher in front of me. My reaction to Mr. Creepy is blunted by my reckless, antagonistic mood—a pleasant discovery—as I glare at him, defiant and mute.

“You didn’t show after school yesterday.”

Truthfully, once I decided not to go, I forgot all about it, but I don’t say this. “Sorry.” My response is flat but strong as I stare him down, provoking confrontation with my body language. “I forgot.”

“Well—” Standing, he steps leisurely toward me, leaning in until our noses nearly brush. His voice is low and smells of onions. “Do you get a thrill out of
blowing
me… off?” His halo whips about him as his eyes dart quickly to Gabriel and back. “Plan on spending two hours making it up to me after school today.”

Revulsion crawls up my spine, but I continue to meet his gaze without flinching. “May I sit down now?” When he nods, I walk back to my seat, grateful the Fosters will be here when school lets out. I decide to let Steven personally explain why I’ll be unable to comply with his order. If he has an issue, he can discuss it with my knights: my foster father, my best friend, and my angel.

After taking roll, Mr. Creepy’s halo undulates about him in palpable agitation. “Where are Mr. Wilkes and Miss Finch today?”

Gabriel appears stoic, but the indignation in his eyes and his blazing halo reveal he’s considering tearing Mr. Abernathy apart. “Sick, I believe.” 

With a curt nod, our teacher returns to his desk. Jonah never shows.

About five minutes into the lesson, a kid walks through the door, hands Mr. Creepy a note and then leaves. As the teacher reads it, the chaotic tumble of charcoal that surrounds him stops. I watch as his halo comes alive, reshaping itself into a giant creature with a thousand snarling mouths. The mouths begin a frenzied attack on Mr. Abernathy devouring the remaining shreds of his humanity—and I see him for what he is, a demon.

Not a single student reacts as if anything is out of the ordinary. They remain as apathetic and unsuspecting as usual. Meanwhile the demon feeds, tearing at Mr. Creepy’s flesh, crunching his bones until in mere seconds, the human host has been consumed.

The sudden bile, the nausea and the fear welling inside of me are incapacitating. All I want to do is lie down in the fetal position and moan. Certain I’m about to hurl, I jump to my feet and dash to the ladies room. I don’t care that I haven’t asked permission or that I’m in the halls without a pass. Whatever just happened to my English teacher, and to me as a result, have me convinced never to go near him again. The pounding in my brain becomes a spike, forging a word over and over again.
EVIL! EVIL! EVIL!

Collapsing over the toilet bowl, I grip my splintering head as my lunch comes spewing out. As I empty my stomach, I hear Gabriel and Derry barge into the girls’ room after me. I feel them wedge into the stall, pressing against my back. And I want to tell them to back off, to give me some air, but I’m heaving uncontrollably.

Finally, I collapse into a shaking heap. The boys hover above me and I realize their mouths are moving. I can’t hear them over the word-spike hammering my head. “Something’s happening,” I moan.

Gabriel leans in close to my ear. The force of his breath on my cheek indicates he’s shouting despite sounding impossibly far away. “Trust your instincts,” he says. “What are your instincts saying?”

“Evil!” I give into the refrain in my head, chanting along with it. “EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL!” Saying it aloud seems to help it recede.

Gabriel’s eyes mirror the horror I feel. “You have to go protect the class from him,” I beg. He’s clearly torn, wanting to stay with me but also knowing there’s a terrible danger. “Please, you’re the only one who can face him.”

Every muscle in the Seraph’s body seems to stiffen as he agrees. Giving Derry a quick glance, he says, “Stay with Alex.” His usually brilliant halo becomes blinding. Reflexively, I shield my eyes until the light dims.

Gabriel is gone.

Derry—who’s been silent much of this time, stares after Gabriel with a look I can’t comprehend—but it breaks my heart anyway. His agonized, apologetic eyes turn to mine. “Alex—”