Blest (4 page)

Gunner took a sharp right after the tunnel, up a wooded hill. Jim recognized the area. Lakewood Drive, the street where the richest people in Pearlton lived. Mansions sprung from the ground like huge, mutated flowers, all sorts of crazy colors and shapes. Gunner twisted up a dirt road and the Range Rover rumbled over potholes and bumps. The renowned lake of Lakewood Drive came into view, a mirror for the darkening gray sky. Gunner pulled into the driveway of a sprawling, wooden house that perched on a small hill like a sleeping dragon, all angles and big windows.

A few other cars were already packed into the driveway. Gunner shut off the engine and jumped out like he was late for an appointment. Jim saw Julia and Erik throw open their car doors. Erik high-fived Gunner and they laughed about something.

Jim bit his lip, wondering if coming to this party was a mistake. Wouldn’t people ask what he was doing there? How he had possibly gotten an invitation? But it was too late now. Besides, he actually wanted to be there. Gunner seemed kind of cool, in a weird way, and Claire was . . . she was
Claire
, and she was here.
Act confident and everyone else will think you are
, he reminded himself, and stepped out of the Range Rover.

• • •

The huge yard behind Gunner and Claire’s house was packed with at least thirty kids from school, talking and laughing, sitting on the patio or smacking a volleyball back and forth over a net. A bunch of people had packed onto the dock, where the sun glowed with some of the last summer heat, shimmering gold over the lake.

Jim had spent most of the party walking around with Claire, listening as she greeted all the new arrivals, trying to muster up the courage to reach for her hand. His dad had called, but he had muted his phone and dropped it back into his pocket. He would tell Michael later where he’d been. Maybe his dad would even be happy to learn that Jim had gone to a party.

He and Claire settled under a big, crooked pine by the water, eating chips and hamburgers that had been grilled by Ben, Shane’s massive friend and football co-captain. Occasionally, Jim looked over his shoulder at the house, but no one seemed to care that he was there.

“So your mom’s at work?” he asked.

Claire shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just know she’s coming home late. We didn’t tell her we were doing this. She would be mad if she found out . . . she doesn’t really let us have people over. It’s been tough for her, ever since our dad left when we were really young. But I don’t know why she keeps moving. It makes it hard to really . . . make friends with people, you know?”

“Hey,” he said, “I haven’t moved anywhere my whole life and I still don’t have friends.”

“They just don’t get you, Jim. You’re different, and it scares them.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he looked back out at the water, watching the waves rippling from a far-off speedboat that Gunner and Shane were driving across the lake. He could hear them whooping in the distance.

“Let’s get in,” Claire said suddenly. She kicked off her shoes and Jim did the same, leaving them by a tree.

He followed her to a rocky part of the shore, hanging back from the crumbly edge, which was knotted with roots and looked like it would cave in at the slightest touch. The dark, metallic surface of the lake made him uneasy.

“Come on!” Claire said, pulling off her shirt to reveal a red bikini top underneath. She shimmied out of her shorts next, revealing a matching bottom. Jim gulped, and he suddenly couldn’t open his mouth. Claire looked back at him, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“I—I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” he stammered.

“You’re wearing shorts,” Claire said, and her voice softened. “What, are you afraid of water, too?”

He laughed a little. “No, I mean . . . you don’t know what kind of creatures are in there.”

“Creatures? Like what, dragons? Snakes? Frogs looking for revenge?” Claire walked up to him and stopped only a few inches away. He could see the freckles lightly dusting the arch of her nose, the long lashes framing her liquid chocolate eyes. He felt dizzy with her this close. “Jim, what is it? What are you really afraid of?” she asked.

“I think—”

Claire lunged at him, throwing him straight off the ledge into the water. Acting on instinct, Jim grabbed her arms and pulled her in with him. For a brief moment in the air, their bodies touched and she felt warm, electric against him. Then the water crashed around him, filling his ears as he went under.

He quickly surfaced, sputtering and treading water, feeling his wet shirt cling to his body. Claire bobbed up beside him, laughing.

“Gee, thanks,” he said, splashing her playfully. “I was just thinking, ‘Man, wearing a dry shirt is cool, but I wish my shirt could be soaking wet.’”

“You’re welcome,” Claire said, back-paddling away from the shore. “But look how easy it was to overcome your fear. You just did it, instead of stressing about it.”

Jim thought about that for a second. “I guess.”

Claire paddled out to a dock floating about ten feet away from shore, where kids were lying in the fading sunlight. He followed. They held onto the edge of the mossy wood slats. No one else bothered them. Jim stared at Claire, watching the way the setting sun glittered off her wet hair and sparkled on her skin.

“What?” she asked suddenly. “Do I have something on my face?”

He blinked. “No, sorry. I just . . . I think this is the first time I’ve laughed since my mom . . .”
No
, he thought furiously,
don’t lose it
. Happiness was such a slippery thing, so easily destroyed by something cold and hard. He couldn’t let himself think about that train ride. He already had to relive the feeling every day on the bus, when it drove through the tunnel and it got pitch-black, like another tornado was coming to sweep her up and take her away from him for good.

“Look, storm clouds!” Someone shouted from the docks.

Claire ignored the noise. “Jim,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

He managed to smile. “No one does.” Really, he thought, even he didn’t really know what had happened. Every time he tried to ask his dad about that train ride, Michael shut down. Jim wasn’t sure how much of it was even real, whether it was more dream or more imagining. The disappearing man, laughing? Was he real?

A low rumble of thunder echoed across the water, and everyone on the dock squealed. “Dude, let’s get out of here!” Erik hollered, as they all started back to shore. At the other end of the lake, a huge, black storm cloud was blooming, unfurling like smoke in the sky.

A motor rumbled close as Shane and Gunner pulled up to the dock on Shane’s speedboat. Shane cut the engine when they got close, drifting to them. Jim noticed that when Shane saw Jim and Claire together, his eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything.

“You dopes, you want to get electrocuted out here?” Gunner called. “Get in!”

Claire and Jim quickly climbed into the boat and Shane drove them back to shore. Everyone piled out, splashing up and onto the grass. Another boom of thunder sounded in the sky, and a flash of lightning lit up the darkness. Claire and Jim grabbed their shoes by the tree and raced inside after the crowd. Everyone else was shivering and laughing in the living room. Jim headed for them, but Claire yanked him by the wrist, jerking him in the opposite direction.

She led him through the kitchen, up a wooden staircase, and to the second floor, where there was a soft padded rug in the hall that they left wet and dripping. Jim’s heart pounded in his chest. She pushed open a door, to a room with a messy bed and bare walls, with boxes still standing in piles in the corner.

“Claire—” Why had she brought him here?

“Sit.” She directed him to a wooden chair in front of a desk and pushed him into it.

He dropped down onto the chair. “What are you doing?” he asked, looking past her to the window outside. Rain broke across the sky, falling in sheets, leaving streaks on the windowpane. Everything outside turned black. All he could see was his reflection, glowing orange on the glass. Abruptly, Claire hit the lights. Jim went blind.

“Claire!” he said, startled. The familiar suffocating feeling was creeping up in his chest.

“We did the water, so now let’s do the dark.” Her voice came from somewhere nearby. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m right here.”

Jim felt his panic rising, like he was drowning. “You don’t understand, I can’t help it!”

“
What
can’t you help?”

The train flashed across the back of his mind again, the howling of the wind outside and the screaming. He couldn’t tell what was the past and what was the present. Wasn’t it all really the same thing, when it was all in your head?

“Just breathe.” Claire’s warm hand found his, and he held onto it tight. Her breath tickled his ear. “Let your guard down.”

“My
guard down
?” Jim snapped. He wanted to jump right out of the chair and throw open the door, where he could see a sliver of orange light peeking in from the hallway. What was Claire talking about? Keeping your guard up was the only thing that kept him safe. He had let his guard down around her and look what that had gotten him.

“Just turn on the lights,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep calm. “And—”

Claire’s mouth landed on his and his head exploded with all the force of a rocket ship blasting into orbit. Suddenly, the only thing he could think about was how warm her lips were, and the way she was breathing, slowly bringing him back to reality. Bringing some other kind of light to the pitch-black room. His fear dissolved and he returned the kiss, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her closer.

A flash of lightning turned the room white, like an old, over-exposed photograph, lighting Claire with a silver glow. A pain shot through his spine like a spike. He pulled back from Claire and cried out, falling backward in the chair. The pain didn’t stop when he hit the floor. It got worse. He writhed back and forth, jerking like a puppet with broken strings. It felt like his skin was going to burst open, like his body was on fire. Claire flicked on the lights, her face pale.

“Jim, Jim, what’s wrong?” Her voice was an echo from faraway, some other universe.

The last thing Jim saw was one more flash of lightning against the windowpane, as blinding as the sun.

Jim woke up to the sour stench of stale beer, his head bouncing back and forth on his chest. He groaned and looked down at his feet, where there were two half-eaten Big Macs bouncing around in boxes. A seatbelt kept him locked in place, but the car bounced every few seconds, sending little aftershocks of pain through his back.

He already knew where he was from the smell. “Dad?” he asked, craning his head to look at Michael. His vision was blurry, so he squeezed his eyes open and closed. Questions flooded through him. “How . . . how’d I get here? Why . . .” He rubbed his back. “What happened?”

Michael hunched over the steering wheel, his face grim. He wore a faded flannel shirt and his eyes had dark circles under them. Outside, the rain pounded the windows and the windshield wipers sliced back and forth in overdrive. “What did I say to do after school, Jim?” he asked quietly.

Jim closed his eyes, wincing. Leave it to Michael Blest to kick you while you were already down. His head felt like it had broken into shards. Every time he twisted his neck, something sliced into him. He wondered if this was what every first kiss felt like. Was he just doomed never to be happy? Where was Claire? How had he gotten here?

“Jim.”

“I saw your text, but I got invited to a party.” Jim gasped as a fresh wave of pain coursed through his body.

“I know you did. Looks like you had a lot of fun, huh?”

“Dad, I didn’t drink, if that’s what you—”

“I know that!” Michael snapped. “It’s worse than that, Jim. A lot worse.”

“Worse? What do you mean, worse?”

His dad didn’t answer. He drove on through the darkness in silence, the rain pounding the windshield. After about ten minutes, the entrance to Pearlton High School came into view, the streetlights quivering in the steady rain.

Jim squinted at the dull brick building as it emerged from the gloom. “Why are we here? Don’t I need to see a doctor?”

The truck roared to a halt at the back entrance of the school, in the same parking lot where Jim had gotten into Gunner’s Range Rover a few hours earlier. He pressed his forehead against the cool window. “Dad . . . what the . . .” His breath misted on the windowpane.

“It’s time,” Michael said gruffly. He threw open the truck door and hopped out.

Jim thought about staying inside, curling up against the spider of agony crawling across his back, but knew his dad would grab him and haul him out of the truck. Michael was in one of those moods. He hoped this wasn’t some drunken escapade, like the time his dad had tried to steal all the angels from everyone’s lawns on Christmas and made Jim come. “No one knows anything about angels!” his dad had shouted over and over, dragging the statues into the street.

Jim unbuckled his seatbelt and stumbled out onto the pavement, standing on shaky legs in the cold rain. The prickle of water felt good on his feverish skin. His dad grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the backdoor of the school. Someone had already opened the door, a short man who was a little hunched. Like a hermit crab.

“Jim and Michael Blest!” Mr. Webb called through the rain. “Right on time!”

Gritting his teeth against the shooting pain in his back, Jim followed his dad and Mr. Webb into the hall, looking around the eerily empty school, the trees and field and track all gray in the rainy night. This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare. He had been kissing Claire. He had been in her room and feeling happier than he had ever felt. And now . . . now . . . this night had taken an extreme turn for the worse.

“Why . . . are we here?” he groaned through another splinter of pain across his shoulders.

Just like his dad, Mr. Webb gave him the silent treatment. They walked toward the lab at the other end of the hall. It felt like it took an eternity just to get there. Each step made the pain get worse. He had never felt anything like this. Jim wondered if he was going to die.

When he got to the doorway of the lab, Mr. Webb ushered them inside, toward the supply closet where he had gotten the frogs for Claire and Jim earlier that day. Maybe yesterday. It had to be close to midnight now.

“Jim Blest, at last,” Mr. Webb said, ducking into the closet. “I knew it was your time, you and the others. I can always tell.” Taking halting steps, still leaning heavily on Michael for support—though his father hadn’t said a word for quite some time—Jim walked into the closet.

The closet was huge, almost like an underground bunker. There were science supplies dumped into boxes, beakers and Bunsen burners and other tools twinkling in the light, and shelves full of books. There was another locked door at the back of the closet, which Mr. Webb opened with a key. “Come on,” he said, as he led them down a hunched cement tunnel. It
was
an underground bunker, Jim realized.

The tunnel opened into a space that was more cave than room, shining bright with white lights. Rusted pipes poked out of the ceiling and rustier machines leaned against the wall, with beeping screens that reminded Jim of old arcade games. The cement walls were blanketed with photographs. Some of them Jim recognized as famous pictures of UFOs, the Loch Ness monster, Bigfoot. But a lot of them were of shapes of people against the sun or floating in the sky, like they were flying or something. It kind of reminded Jim of his room, and his painting on the water tower. Just a lot creepier.

In the center of the room stood a long, metal operating table next to a big X-ray machine. His shoulders exploded, like his muscles were on fire, and he screamed. Michael looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to deal with him. Mr. Webb’s thin lips lifted in a smile. “Wow,” he said. “They must really be coming in.”

“They?” Jim managed, trying not to pass out.

“Here, here.” Mr. Webb helped Jim up onto the operating table. “I can give you something for the pain.”

Jim closed his eyes, struggling to sit up straight and eventually giving up and lying on his side. “What are you going to give me?” he asked weakly. He stared around the cavernous room, his eyes traveling over the photos and the machines. “What is this place?”

Mr. Webb jabbed him in the arm with a syringe. Jim inhaled through his teeth. The pinch of the needle felt like a flick of a finger compared to what was happening to his back. Slowly, the pain receded to a dull burn. He exhaled slowly.

“Good, that’s good. Just breathe,” Mr. Webb said reassuringly. He pulled up a stool, sat down in front of Jim, and proceeded to peer at him through his thick glasses, like Jim was one of the frogs.

Jim waited, but Mr. Webb kept staring. “Um . . .” He looked to his dad, but Michael had started patrolling the walls, looking at a big collage of pictures. “Would somebody
please
explain to me what’s going on?”

Mr. Webb brightened. “Easy, Jim. You’re an angel.”

Jim stared at him blankly. Mr. Webb beamed back at him, as if that was all the explanation needed.

“Your mom and I were angels,” Michael said, his low voice echoing from where he stood against the wall.

“
What?
”

His dad turned around, his face dark, reflecting Jim’s pain. “There are planes of existence beyond this world, Jim. Humans feel them all the time, they just don’t know what they are. The angels—we’re from Glisten, the celestial plane. Some of us go to the Field—Earth—to raise our children here, instead. We’re Guardians. We fight the demons.”

Jim looked over his shoulder. His eyes skipped back to Mr. Webb and his dad. “If my back is broken, you can just tell me. You don’t have to lie to me. Am I paralyzed? Why aren’t we at the hospital?”

“
Jim!
” Michael barked. “This isn’t a laughing matter.”

“You aren’t paralyzed,” Mr. Webb said, with infuriating calm. “In fact, you’re quite the opposite. You’re in the process of growing wings, so that you can fly.”

“Right, because I’m an angel,” Jim said flatly. Had Shane somehow put them up to this? Jim’s eyes flicked around the room, looking for a hidden camera. Was someone filming this, to put it on YouTube as a joke?

“The bravest of the angels choose to come to the Field, as Guardians,” Mr. Webb said, opening his palms to the ceiling, as if he was explaining something to an infant. “They protect the Portal from the demons.”

“The Portal? Demons?”

Michael nodded. “Demons come from the plane of Slag, a place of fire, lying, deceit, destruction. They are always trying to get back into Glisten, to gain the powers that they lost when they were banished from there thousands of years ago.”

“I’ve never seen you fight any demons,” Jim said pointedly. This was too ridiculous. It had to be some elaborate hoax. But for what purpose?
Worst birthday present ever
, he thought.

“I haven’t fought in years,” Michael said, looking at his feet. “Jim, I’m not an angel anymore. Just a man.”

“If you’re a man, then stop lying to me!” Jim shouted. His voice echoed strangely in the underground space. “I just want my back to get fixed!”

“We can do that,” Mr. Webb said soothingly. He jabbed his thumb at Michael. “I removed your father’s wings ten years ago, when he was ready to retire from the war. I’ve got over two decades of experience doing it.” He noticed Jim’s expression and laughed a sly, annoying little laugh. “I’m guessing you like high places, you’re afraid of the dark, and you’re a pretty fast runner, right?” Jim nodded slowly. Mr. Webb looked satisfied.

“Jim, I know this is hard to believe, but you are an angel. Your mother and father came here from Glisten, to fight in the Endless War. But like many angels before them, they eventually grew tired of fighting. They wanted to live like humans, to raise a family. That’s why I’ve learned to do what I do, for angels like your parents who want to retire from the war.”

“Jim . . .” Michael took a step closer, his voice breaking. “I did it for you. You just need to get your wings removed, too, and you’ll be normal for the rest of your life.”

Jim laughed helplessly. “Dad, what makes you think I’m normal now?”

“This isn’t funny!” Michael snapped. “You
have
to get your wings taken out, or the demons will come looking for you.
That’s
why your back hurts. On every angel’s sixteenth birthday, their wings grow in.”

Jim looked back and forth between Mr. Webb and his dad, at a loss for words. He still felt the creeping suspicion that they were both playing a trick on him. Angels? His mom, his dad? A war? He remembered the train. The man. His mom and his dad had been running from something. But it had caught up to them.

“I’ve got a lovely idea,” Mr. Webb proclaimed proudly. He dashed to the X-ray machine. “I can clear this up. Here, Jim. Just turn your back at the camera and say cheese!”

Jim hesitantly turned on the operating table. Michael stared at him, then at his feet, hands buried deep in his pockets. Jim heard the machine click a few times. Mr. Webb produced an iPad from behind the machine and plugged it in, then tapped a few buttons and summoned green-and-black images on the screen.

“My own private Angel App!” Mr. Webb laughed. Then he grew serious, gliding his finger along the image of Jim’s back. “You see,” he said, “here’s your spine.” Jim tore his eyes from his dad and looked at the screen as Mr. Webb traced his vertebrae with his fingers. “And these irregular growths on the left and right shoulder blades? Those are wingtips. They grow fast, that’s why it hurts so much. It’s kind of like a baby teething, except the wings cut through muscle and tissue.” He looked up at Jim and made a slicing motion with your finger. “Like you’re being stabbed from the inside out! And then they’ll bloom into all these white feathers, like flowers sprouting. Cool, huh?”

Jim blanched, not taking his eyes from the X-ray. He could see the bones growing, and could feel the pain in his back matching the picture where they had already grown. “Dad . . .” he said slowly. “If this is true, how could you . . .” He stared at his hands. “How could you keep this from me?”

“It was for your own good!” Michael protested.

“My own good?” Jim shot back. “You mean
your
own good. Just because you’re too afraid to be what you really are anymore, that doesn’t mean that I have to be.” He flexed against the dull piercing sensation in his shoulders. He was finally growing something much more than a spine and now he was going to throw it all away? What would being an angel be like? Could it really be worse than the nothing he was now?

His dad’s voice was low and urgent. “I was trying to protect you,” he said. “Don’t you see? You need to get them removed. Otherwise, you’ll be recruited for the Endless War, and you’re not even trained.” Tears gleamed in his eyes.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“
Jim!
” Michael roared. “You have to get them taken out, NOW!”

Jim turned to face his dad, his mouth open. He had never heard Michael raise his voice like that before. But all of his dad’s anger bounced off of him. He couldn’t help wondering what his mom would have wanted. If she were still alive, would she force Jim to get his wings removed?

“You’re trying to force me into a decision without all the facts,” Jim said quietly. “You’re taking away the only real choice I’ve had since—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Webb?” a woman appeared at the edge of the doorway.

“Gloria, perfect timing!” Mr. Webb said. “Come on in, we’re just having the Big Talk.” He waved at the woman and she entered slowly.

“I already told them in the car,” Gloria said in a whispery voice, pointing subtly behind her. Two very familiar-looking figures appeared after her. Claire and Gunner.
I knew it was your time, you and the others
, Mr. Webb had said. Even though his back still hurt, Jim broke out in a smile. Of course Claire and Gunner were angels. They were different from everyone else at Pearlton, just like him.

He noticed Claire clutching her back, her eyes watery. Gunner tried to stand up straight, like he was defying the pain, but Jim could tell from the way his arms and shoulders tensed that he was starting to feel the slicing sensation of his wings against his skin.

Claire blinked at Jim as she stepped inside. “You?” she whispered, a faint smile forming on her face.

“You,” Jim mimicked, smiling. He slid down from the operating table and stepped forward to take her hand. Gloria and Michael didn’t look at each other. Gloria was blinking back tears.