A Shimmer of Angels (11 page)

These drawings had to be a coincidence, right?

I looked closer at my drawings. I knew better now than to dismiss anything this similar as coincidence. My subconscious must have made me dream about Allison’s painting. That’s all. There couldn’t be a real man with dark wings out there somewhere.

With that dismissal, an odd feeling tugged at me, not allowing me to let it go. Still, I fought it. I’d just gotten the unbelievable gift of my sanity back. No way was I going to jeopardize it again.

Chapter Sixteen

“You thought all this was for Allison?” Lee popped a handful of M&M’s into his mouth.

We’d made it almost to the end of lunch before reverting to gossip, which Lee soaked up like a sponge.

“Isn’t it?” I pushed away the other half of my turkey sandwich, my appetite slipping at the thought of Allison’s death.

He grimaced. “Nuh uh. Tony DiMeeko died last night.”

Oh God
. That’s what I’d missed by being late to class this morning. The cafeteria spun. I felt almost too sick to ask. Almost. “Do you know what happened?”

“Word is he hanged himself in his closet.”

My stomach bottomed out. It wasn’t just another death; it was another suicide.

Tony DiMeeko had been a star of the varsity basketball team, and that didn’t even compare to his skills on the pitcher’s mound. Last I’d heard, he’d been accepted to college on a baseball scholarship. He had everything going for him.

“Why do you think he did it?” I asked Lee.

He rolled the half-empty bag of candy between his hands. “Beats me. Maybe all that sports pressure got to him.”

The bell rang, clipping our conversation short.

“We’ll talk after school.” Lee dumped the rest of his M&M’s into his mouth and left.

I waited until the cafeteria had cleared out some, then walked to Music class.

Two of my classmates were dead within days of each other. I stopped in the stairwell to tug my secret notebook from my bag and see if anything I’d written down about Allison also applied to Tony. The idea was stupid. Crazy.

Either that, or
I
was crazy. Still.

I didn’t know what to believe. Except two of my classmates were dead. I couldn’t bring this to Cam; there was no way to know if I’d be able to believe him. Trusting myself was becoming pretty unreliable, too.

I turned the corner on the second floor, leafing through the notebook for the sketches. I’d been flipping the pictures so many times the one in full color had begun to tear from the book.

The image brought me back to my nightmare. So terrifying. So real.

I shook off the memory and kept walking. If I let myself relive that one again, there was no way I’d be able to make it through the day.

Focus.

Tony had died last night. Last night around what time? I swallowed, allowing the next thought to fully develop before I wrote it down.

Could Cam have had enough time after I left him at the park yesterday to find Tony and follow him home? Opportunity? Yes. Motive?

I lifted my quivering pen from the notebook.

Could
Cam have killed Tony? I mean, he did save my life yesterday.

I slammed into someone. The notebook tumbled and skittered along the glossy, peach tile floor, and I fell on my ass.

In hindsight, navigating the halls with my head buried in the mysteries of those wings wasn’t the brightest thing to do.

“Sorry, Rayna. Didn’t see you there.” Luke Harper helped me up, then bent to retrieve my notebook. I watched, frozen in horror, as his fingers rolled the notebook into a tube and squeezed.

The neat-freak in me wanted to scream, and every other part of me wanted to rip the notebook from his hands. But then I saw his absent stare, pricked with red-rimmed eyes. His fingers worried my notebook into submission again and again.

“No,” I finally said. “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. But—is everything okay, Luke?” I focused in on my notebook again.

“What? Yeah. Fine. Why, if it wasn’t would you kiss it and make it better?”

Even with panic rising up my throat, I saw through his blatant attempt to distract me. I pulled my gaze away from the notebook and leveled the best glare I could dig up at him.

“Yeah, okay, I’m freaking out. One of my best friends is dead. How am I supposed to deal with that?” He choked my notebook harder. “We just hung out two days ago. Tony was so happy, gushing about some new private-school girlfriend.”

Luke lifted his black-and-orange Giants hat and scrubbed the back of his bald head. “Everyone’s sayin’ he offed himself, but he had a life—an awesome one.” He glanced down the hall behind him and lowered his voice. “The new girlfriend even put out.”

Holding back a grimace, I reminded myself he was grieving.

Luke sighed and wiped a hand over his eyes. “It doesn’t make any sense. The cops came by last night, asking me all kinds of questions. It sounds like it’s a mystery to them, too.”

“I know you and Tony were close. I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose someone.”

God, was it hard.

He forced a brave I’ll-be-all-right smile. “Thanks, Evans.”

I lifted my hand to his shoulder, meaning to comfort him. Halfway there, I stopped, with no idea what I was doing. I pulled back a little, struggling. I’d never been good with this stuff, and in the last three years, I’d gotten a lot of “good little schizophrenics keep their hands to themselves” reminders on the inside. Finally, I let my hand drop onto his shoulder. He looked up at me, startled. Our eyes met, and held, for a moment too long.

The bell rang, sealing my lateness to Music class with a red check in the tardy box.

When I pulled my hand back, it hit the notebook, which tumbled to the ground. One of my sketches ripped free from the book. I lunged for it, but Luke beat me to it.

He straightened up slowly, looking at my dark-winged sketch with sudden fury in his eyes. “What the hell is this, Rayna?” This boy was miles from the flirty Luke I’d come to know.

Play it off. He can’t know the truth.
“It’s just a picture, Luke. What’s the big deal?” Dryness snatched up some of my words.

“I’ve been seeing it in my dreams.”

I froze.

“I … copied Tony’s notes the other day. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since then. Tony died before I could ask him about it, and now it’s here, in your notebook. What am I supposed to think?”

The beginnings of hyperventilation knotted my throat. My body trembled in fear of being discovered, called out, then taken away.

Before I could spiral down into a place I likely wouldn’t climb out of, a tiny spot of light caught my attention. Cam readjusted his wings to tuck them closer to the set of lockers he was hiding behind. His face was stone, his eyes serious.

My fingers went cold. How long had he been standing there, listening to us? “It’s nothing, so, we should, uh, get to class.”

Luke looked at me like I was crazy, a look I knew all too well. He said nothing else as he walked away, brushing by a poster in the hall advertising the Halloween dance, taking my drawing with him. I watched him enter his class, then turned back toward the lockers. Cam was gone.

I wanted to curl up in a ball, hugging myself tightly.
Okay. Calm. Breathe.

This was too much at once. Maybe I was even crazier than before, like my mind was cracking because I couldn’t handle the real life stuff.

Luke had been dreaming of this picture. The same one Allison
and
Tony had seen. That didn’t mean Luke was somehow magically destined to kill himself, too. No, maybe Tony had seen Allison’s painting somehow, and sketched it in his notebook, just like I had. There. Simple explanation. And maybe Cam was following me around because … now that one was difficult to explain. Maybe Cam was as crazy as I was.

Knowing I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything now, I spent what was left of Music class hiding in the bathroom. Again. I’d be in it deep if Dad got wise to my skipping classes, but I needed time to process.

I opened the notebook, trying to press it flat—I’d never get it back to normal again after Luke’s assault on it—and started writing again, hoping to once again expel all wild thoughts so I didn’t have to deal with them anymore.

By the time the bell for sixth period rang, I had a plan. I waited around the corner from Luke’s class. I was going to prove to myself that Luke wasn’t in any danger, even if that meant being a creepy stalker.

I held my breath and peeked around the corner. Luke ducked out of the classroom. His head was down, his steps slow. Gina Garson was beside him, her usually smooth face pulled into a tight, worried mess. They both moved their hands as they spoke, in short, frustrated gestures, neither of them making eye contact. This was it, I’d finally cracked. I was stalking a classmate—the most popular guy in school, no less—waiting for him to up and off himself.

Sun shone through the windows on my left. I tensed, hunching my shoulders up toward my ears. I looked again, hoping the warmth wasn’t a set of wings standing beside me.

Nope. Sun. Actual sun. Two days in a row. Maybe luck was finally on my side.

I glanced back to Luke and Gina. They were closer to my corner, only five lockers away.

“What do you mean you can’t handle this now?” Gina hissed. “How the hell do you think I feel?”

Luke pinched the sleeve of her sweater and veered her over to the side of the hallway, closer to me.

I should have left, resumed my stalk-age after school, but I couldn’t pull myself away. Who knew watching a couple argue would be like watching a car crash?

“Can we talk about this later? I’m not having the best day.”

“Oh, and my day’s been a big ball of sunshine and daisies? This stuff is really creeping me out.”

Luke exhaled, hard. “I get it, I do, but in case you haven’t heard, one of my boys is dead.” His eyes took on a watery sheen. “I don’t think school is the best place to have this conversation, G.”

“You’ve known for weeks.” Gina’s body language changed, softening, either to Luke or the topic. “You didn’t want to talk about it then, either.”

He reached out to her, wrapping one arm across her shoulders and pulling her into him.

Watching their exchange somehow felt wrong, invasive, especially after I’d endured all of Luke’s half-hearted attempts to make a move on me. I turned away for a moment, allowing them their privacy, but couldn’t let Luke out of my sight for too long. I looked around the corner. Their embrace was over, and tension edged their shoulders again. Whatever the issue, it hadn’t been resolved so easily. Huh, turns out life isn’t like the movies, after all.

One of Gina’s tagalong friends made a bee-line for her. I think the girl’s name was a month, April, May, June. Something like that. She ignored Luke completely and cupped a hand by Gina’s ear. She whispered for a good thirty seconds, Luke’s obvious irritation increasing by the second.

I strained forward. Maybe she had more information about Allison or Tony. This calendar girl was one of those social butterflies who flitted from table to table in the lunchroom.

She pulled back before I could devise a plan to pretend my locker was near them. Gina swallowed like she’d received bad news. My shoulder twitched—damn meds—and the girl zeroed in on me. “What’s that freak up to?” She asked Gina.

Both Gina and Luke turned toward me. Anger sparked in Gina’s brown eyes. “Were you listening in on our conversation?”

My pulse created a punk song drumbeat in my chest. I quickly shook my head, but my wide eyes must have given me away.

“Stalker much? You tweaker-freak.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. Only two days ago she and I had shared a secret in the bathroom. I should have known she wouldn’t be able to keep that secret for long.

Gina turned with her friend and stormed away toward the stairs without another word. Regret turned my stomach. I managed to pull my gaze up to Luke’s.

More hurt than anger marred his face. His brows were furrowed, his lips tight.

I’m sorry
, I mouthed to my almost-friend. I had no idea what he and Gina had been talking about, but these suicides, Cam, and Allison’s painting were turning me into someone I didn’t want to be. Someone I thought I’d left behind at the mental hospital. The worst part? I didn’t plan to stop.

Luke shook his head and yanked his backpack up from the floor before he walked away. He didn’t forgive me. He didn’t trust me. And he’d probably never talk to me again.

This was bad. And annoying. What was I thinking, standing there, so obvious? Don’t. Get. Caught. It was like, Stalking 101. This just got so much freaking harder.

Chapter Seventeen

I raced to History class after my huge oops moment with Luke and Gina, even though I dreaded what—or who—I’d find there. But I had to be stronger, so I swallowed and put my best tougher-than-nails face on.

Blinding reflections from wings covered the walls and faces in the classroom, mirroring the almost cheery afternoon sun. I shielded my eyes with my hand and heard my classmates’ giggles. It probably looked like I was allergic to sunlight or something. I lowered my hand and walked to the back of the room, painfully aware that my feather-tipped friend had beaten me there.

“Nice to see you.” Cam flashed a grin almost as bright as those wings.

“See? Really? Can’t see much of anything right now.” The sun had intensified his wings to almost blinding status.

The light dissipated much the way it does when clouds brush over the sun. “Sorry. I forgot they … affect you.”

I dropped into my seat, feeling too many things all at once: apprehension about being near Cam, shame for spying on Luke and upsetting Gina, and awful crazy—either from the meds or a relapse, I hadn’t decided which yet.

A new set of whispers started at the table behind us. I could imagine them talking about the cool new guy talking to tweaker-girl—yeah, that nickname had caught on fast. If only that were true, that he was merely interested in me like
that
, things would be so much simpler.