The Guardian (5 page)

“Do you, Alexia?”

His words flow over me like a haunting melody causing me to forget the original question. “Do I what?”

“Want me to go?”

Quietly he clears his throat and for the first time he appears uncertain. His eyes continue to hold mine and I’m unable to look away, to protect myself even in that small way as I admit the truth.

“No.”

I tremble slightly as the confession hangs between us. He swallows and I watch the way his throat bobs, the way his jaw muscles flex, the way his lips ripple, and his pupils expand. Movement at the end of the hall breaks the moment. Gabriel sighs, reaching for my bag. “We should get to class.”

Dumbly nodding—which seems to be my typical response when he’s around—I turn away from him, my body feeling shaky and unreliable. It takes all my concentration not to stagger. Anger and guilt tangle in my chest as I try to process what just happened. Then I feel Gabriel’s steady hand settle reassuringly into the small of my back and bite back a growl. “Maybe you shouldn’t touch me.”

Wordlessly he lets his hand drop, and I nearly take the words back.

At the door to Government, he stops and hands my bag back to me. I pause, confused. “Don’t you have this class?”

His left eyebrow dips as he inquires, “Do you need me to?”

I think for a moment, wondering at his cryptic question before shaking my head. “I guess not.”

“I’ll meet you right here for lunch.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

“Whatever.”

Although he’s waiting for me to go, I hesitate, worried about after lunch. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think I can face Mr. Creepy on my own. Clearing my throat, I ask, “What about—never mind...”

When he looks at me—a deep, searing stare that shakes me to my core—it’s as if he knows my mind. “This is the only class we have apart. So the bad news is you’re going to have to put up with me the rest of the day and I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

Relieved and more than a little grateful, I nod. Giving my hand a quick squeeze, he lightly admonishes, “Now get to class. You’re late.”

 In that moment, I’m too placated to realize how bizarre it is that he knows our collective schedule. But as I sit in Government, self-loathing sets in. I hate that I’m counting on Gabriel to get me through English. It’d be better to leave—get away from him and from the Fosters before thing become complicated. The only person I can depend on is myself. I know this from experience.

Afterwards, Gabriel’s waiting just like he promised. As we walk to lunch together, amidst stares and whispers, I resign myself to no longer being invisible. But as we enter the cafeteria, I’m ill-prepared for the resulting attention.

First, everything comes to an immediate halt. Noise stops and movement ceases in an almost exaggerated way, reminding me of a poorly-made sitcom. The result is disorienting. My body reacts in fight or flight mode as Gabriel smoothly steers me through the maze of gawking students to an empty table in the back.

In a stupor, I let him seat me facing the wall. As he settles across the table, I fidget uncomfortably, panicking because I can’t have my back to everyone. Needing to watch for the darkness, I try to glance over my shoulders at my surroundings without being obvious about it, but the movements make me nauseous and agitate my injured neck. Noticing my distress, Gabriel stops unpacking his lunch to pat the seat beside him.

“Why don’t you come sit next to me, Alexia.”

I want to, but worry what kids will think.

Continuing to read my mind, he offers, “They’re already talking about us. There’s no reason for you to be sitting over there in agony, when you would be more comfortable on this side.”

As painful as it is to admit, he’s right. So I switch sides. I try not to sit too close but, because there’s a metal bar in my way, end up touching his thigh with mine. Despite our layers of clothing, my leg tingles where we connect.

If Gabriel notices, though, he doesn’t react. Instead, he watches with interest as I pull a Vitamin Water and a cereal bar from my backpack. With a frown he asks, “That’s all you’re having?”

I shrug. “Didn’t think I’d be very hungry.”

Nodding, he begins unpacking his lunch, producing a thick sandwich loaded with veggies and meat on wholegrain bread, an apple, a banana, a Vitamin Water like mine, and a tiny package of Oreos.

“Here,” he says handing me his banana.

Hungrier than I anticipated, I take it without arguing. “Thanks.”

“You’re most welcome.” Crooking an eyebrow, he contemplates me challengingly. “You’re also eating
half
my Oreos.”

His edict makes me laugh because he has no clue how crazy I am for Oreos. “Half?” I retort, “I was planning on eating them
all
.” I grab them possessively, clutching them to my chest. Pulling at my hands, Gabriel makes a mock attempt to reclaim his dessert. We scuffle, wrenching the cookies back and forth, until we’re both quaking with laughter.

“Is this seat taken?”

I look up to see two cheerleaders smiling—all vacant and phony but dazzling nonetheless—down at Gabriel. My heart slams painfully in my chest as I realize I’ve let my guard down yet again.

Or maybe my pain has to do with how lovely the two girls are with their perfect makeup and short, sexy uniforms. One blonde and the other brunette, they resemble what I imagine to be the epitome of every teenaged boy’s fantasy. Once they capture Gabriel’s attention, they sit down uninvited.

“I’m Naomi Bennett,” the brunette bimbo says coyly. Her halo’s a smudge, merely a slight darkening around her edges like a grease stain. She nods toward the blonde. “This is Kendra Douglas.”

“Hi,” chirps the blonde one. “You’re Gabriel, right?” She tosses her hair with such skill it should be an Olympic event. Kendra’s surrounded by a flimsy ring the color of stale beer. She’s barely good, which becomes apparent in the way she’s blindly following Naomi’s lead.

They don’t acknowledge my existence as they make themselves at home at our table. Their attention is exclusively for the gorgeous boy at my side. Suddenly, I’m invisible again.

Deflated by the turn of events, I turn away to catch Jonah watching us. Hate shoots like daggers from his eyes toward the two girls seated opposite me and I wonder at the history behind his scowl. All of a sudden, he’s conscious of my scrutiny. Giving me a quick, sharp glare, he turns back into himself, his chaotic halo darkening into slate as he picks at his lunch.

“Alexia?” Gabriel’s breath is low and humid against my ear. I realize he’s been speaking to me, waiting for some kind of response. At some point he has nestled his hand against my back. My skin begins to sing with awareness and I scoot away.

Shaking my head to clear it, I snap back to him. “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.” As I turn toward him, he doesn’t pull back. He—is—so—close.

An involuntary shiver trembles down my spine as our noses brush. He swallows, a small gulp so loud it fills my ears causing me to tremble even more. My stomach tingles in an unfamiliar yet not unpleasant way.

Alarmed he pulls back, holding me at an arm’s length for evaluation. “Are you all right?” The concern in his sea-colored eyes makes them wide.

“Fine.” Nodding self-consciously I fiddle with my water as Gabriel opens his Oreos, giving me two and keeping the other half for himself.

“Oooh,” crows Naomi enthusiastically. “I just love Oreos. They’re the best.”

Gabriel grins. “Yep.”

To my extreme satisfaction, not only doesn’t he offer her any, but he seems to take great pleasure in breaking them apart and slowly savoring them in her face. His thigh presses against mine and I wonder if his action is conscious, if he’s deliberately maximizing our contact.

“So Gabriel, how do you like Midlands High?” Naomi smiles at him sweetly, overlooking the cookies. But I get the impression she’s not used to being ignored.

“Fine.”

“Is it better than your old school?” Kendra bats her eyelashes at him then backs off as Naomi elbows her discreetly.

“Yes.”

As the two girls attempt to chat with him, Gabriel remains polite and brief. Even in the face of his one-syllable answers, they can’t take a hint. He makes a private joke of rolling his eyes at me as he exaggeratedly eats his Oreos, and before I know it, I’m playing along with my own cookies.

When the bell rings, Gabriel clears our combined trash without a word. I’m still sitting when the cheerleaders stand in tandem. “What class have you got next?” Naomi asks.

“English,” he answers curtly.

They move to intercept him on his way back from the waste bin, chattering over the top of one another. “We’ve got English too!”

“Isn’t Mr. Abernathy the best?”

“Did you get yesterday’s homework assignment, since you were out?”

“He’s one of the best teachers at this school. He’s won National awards and everything.”

“My locker’s right on the way, I could get you the answers.”

“He’s really handsome, for a teacher and all.”

Naomi tries to take his arm, but Gabriel successfully evades her grasp. Parting them like the Red Sea, he reaches out to help me to my feet. His lips twitch with barely contained mirth that makes his eyes sparkle.

Glancing at me as if I’m some spider she just noticed crawling across her shoe, Naomi shoves at Kendra and they flank Gabriel in unison. “Walk with us,” she begs.

“No thank you.” Looking pointedly at me he asks, “Are you ready, Alexia?”

I’m anything but ready. But I won’t admit it. He remains motionless, hand outstretched, waiting for me to surrender my bag to him. The cheerleaders are hovering and in a fit of impulsiveness, I sling my backpack at Gabriel in an enthusiastic arc that nearly knocks Naomi down. Choking back a giggle, I enjoy the rush of satisfaction as she stumbles backwards.

Kendra rushes to her friend’s aid as Gabriel catches my carelessly flung bag. Disapproval radiates from his eyes and the tight set of his lips, but I don’t care. In this strange new world where I have to suffer perky cheerleaders and perfect boys, it feels good to lash out. As Jonah brushes past me, I see the smirk on his face. His halo has lightened and I realize he gets it.

Shooting daggers with her eyes, Naomi stomps past us dragging Kendra by the arm. “Bitch,” she snarls.

“Was that really necessary, Alexia?” The disappointment in Gabriel’s eyes fuels my mood.

“Yes,” I answer, feeling defiant and perversely happy.

With a soft shake of his head, he asks, “Are you ready for
our
next class?”

The smile freezes on my face as the realization that I have English next sinks in. The knowledge causes instant cramping and I regret having eaten. My heart sharply accelerates in anticipation as my legs turn to rubber. Mr. Creepy’s sickening behavior speeds through my mind blurring the present surroundings.

The scene before me goes fuzzy around the edges. Solid objects start to dissipate as the floor tilts, pitching up to meet me at an impossible angle. Then, everything vanishes.

CHAPTER 3

Before I can crumple to the ground, Gabriel catches me. “Hey,” he soothes. His mouth brushes against my ear. “If you’re not feeling well, I can take you home. Right now. Do you want to go?”

Everything’s spinning in a way that makes me want to lie down or put my head between my knees at the very least. If it weren’t for Gabriel holding me upright I’d be splayed out on the floor, out cold and making a total spectacle of myself. Again, he asks if I want to leave—I can’t help feeling he knows more than he’s saying—but I shake my head. Something within me stubbornly refuses to take him up on his offer, despite its appeal.

“At least lean on me until you catch your breath. Here.”

With a nod, I sag against him, allowing myself a rare moment of comfort. But it feels too indulgent. My self-preservation kicks in as I admit to myself I can’t afford to draw strength from him, even in this one instance. Pushing against the lean muscle of his chest, I manage to stand on my own two feet.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just light-headed for a sec. I probably should’ve packed a better lunch. Come on.”

For one moment Gabriel doesn’t let go, he just examines me gravely.  Behind his extraordinary eyes, a struggle wages that I can’t decipher. Then his grip loosens as he quietly says, “Okay.”

Placing one foot in front of the other, I begin to walk. I’m both terrified and relieved that English is in the same wing, on the same floor as the cafeteria, since I don’t think I could manage stairs in my present state. As we enter the hall, Mr. Creepy’s classroom looms at the end of it like a gaping black hole.

Gabriel gives me my space, but his fingertips press sharply into my spine. His free hand fists tautly at his side. As we move, he whispers, “Let’s not sit up front for this one, okay?” Again I wonder what he knows and how, but I’m too preoccupied to confront him.

Later… after…

Dipping my head in agreement, I try not to imagine the trials of the upcoming hour. I don’t glance at Mr. Creepy as we enter, but I feel his halo, his sickening attention, as Gabriel guides me to the far left seat of the third row. “Scoot closer to the wall,” he whispers.