Dark Angel; The Chosen; Soulmate (10 page)

“It means no more fooling around with Bruce Faber.” (
Oh, my God
, Angel! Bruce Faber? Bruce the Athlete? She's been fooling around with
Bruce Faber
?)

Tanya's voice cracked like a whip. “What are you talking about? What do you know?”

“I'm talking about those nights at the pool parties last summer in Macon's cabana. While David was up north at his grandma's. I'm talking about what happened in Bruce's car after the Halloween dance.” (In a
cabana
?)

There was a silence. When Tanya spoke again, her voice was a sort of icy explosion. “How did you find out?”

Gillian shrugged. “People who're good at spreading rumors can be a two-edged sword.”

“I thought so. That
brat
Kim! Her and her mouth…” Then Tanya's voice changed. It became a voice with claws and Gillian could tell she was moving closer. “I suppose you're planning to tell David about this?”

“Huh?” For a moment Gillian was too confused to follow Angel's directions. Then she got hold of herself. “Oh, of course I'm not going to tell David. That's why I'm telling
you
. I just want you to promise that you're not going to do anything like
that anymore. And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop telling people things about my mom—”

“I'll do worse than that!” Suddenly Tanya was standing right behind Gillian. Her voice was a yelling hiss. “You have no
idea
what I'll do if you try to mess with me, you snotty little midget. You are going to be so sorry—”

“No, I think you've done plenty already.”

The voice came from the door. Gillian heard it, and in that instant she understood everything.

It was David, of course.

Gillian turned around and stared at him, blinking. He was standing just inside the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder, the other hand in his pocket. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark. He was looking at Tanya.

There was a silence.

(How long? How long has he been there, Angel?)

(Uhhh, I'd say since round about… the beginning.)

(Oh, my.) So that's why Gillian had been so low-key and noble and let Tanya do all the yelling and threatening. They must have come off like Dorothy and the Wicked Witch.

A sense of justice stirred inside Gillian. She made a hesitant move toward David.

“David—you don't understand—”

David shook his head. “I understand just fine. Don't try to cover for her. It's better for me to find out.”

(Yeah, shut up, minibrain! Now look mildly distressed, slightly awkward. You guess they want to be alone now.)

“Uh, I guess you guys want to be alone now.”

(Anyway, you have to hurry to get your ride.)

“Anyway, I have to hurry to get my ride.”

(These aren't the droids you're looking for.)

“These aren't—” (I'm going to
kill
you, Angel!) Flustered, Gillian made one last gesture of apology and almost ran for the door.

Outside, she walked blindly. (Angel!)

(Sorry, I couldn't resist. But look at you, kid! Do you know what you've done?)

(I guess… I got rid of Tanya.) As the adrenaline of battle faded, the truth of this was slowly beginning to dawn on her. It brought a hint of glorious warmth, a sparkling promise of future happiness.

(Smart kid!)

(And—I did it fairly. It
was
all true, wasn't it, Angel? She's really been messing around with Bruce?)

(Everybody's been messing around with Bruce. Yes, it was all true.)

(And what about Kim? Is she the one who spreads rumors about people?)

(Like butter on Eggos.)

(I just—she seemed so
sweet
. When we talked about rumors in the cafeteria she patted my hand.)

(Sure, she's sweet—to your face. Turn left here.)

Gillian found herself emerging from the school building. As she went down the steps she saw three or four cars parked casually in the roundabout. Macon's BMW convertible was one. He looked up at her and gave an inviting nod toward the car.

Other people shouted. “Hey, Jill, need a ride?” “We wouldn't want you to get lost in the woods again!”

Gillian stood, feeling like a southern belle. So many people wanting her—it made her giddy. Angel was grandly indifferent (Pick anybody!) and she could see Amy's Geo a little distance away. Amy and Eugene were standing by it, looking up at her. But getting in a car with Eugene Elfred would be disastrous to her new status.

She picked Cory the Party Guy, and the ride home was filled with his nonstop talk about Macon's party on Saturday. She had trouble getting rid of him at the door. Once she did, she walked up to her bedroom and fell on her bed, arms out. She stared at the ceiling.

(Phew!)

It had been the most incredible day of her life.

She lay and listened to the quiet house and tried to gather her thoughts.

The warmth was still percolating inside her, although it was mixed with a certain amount of anxiety. She wanted to see David again. She wanted to know how things had turned out with Tanya. She couldn't let herself feel happy until she was sure…

“Relax, would you?”

Gillian sat up. The voice wasn't in her ear, it was beside the bed. Angel was sitting there.

The sight hit her like a physical blow.

She hadn't seen him since that morning and she'd forgotten how beautiful he was.

His hair was dark golden with paler gold lights shimmering in it. His face was—well—classic perfection. Absolutely pure, defined like a sculpture in marble. His eyes were a violet so glorious it actually hurt to look at it. His expression was rapt and uplifted… until he winked. Then it dissolved into mischief.

“Uh, hi,” Gillian whispered huskily.

“Hi, kid. Tired?”

“Yeah. I feel… used up.”

“Well, take a nap, why don't you? I've got places to go anyway.”

Gillian blinked. Places? “Angel… I never asked you. What's heaven like? I mean, with angels like you, it's got to be different from most people's idea. That meadow I saw—that wasn't it, was it?”

“No, that wasn't it. Heaven—well, it's hard to explain. It's all in the oscillation of the spatial-temporal harmonics, you know—what you'd call the inherent vibration of the plane. At a higher vibration everything assumes a much more complicated harmonic theme….”

“You're making this up, aren't you?”

“Yeah. Actually it's classified. Why don't you get some sleep?”

Gillian already had her eyes shut.

She was happy when she woke up to smell dinner. But when she got downstairs, she found only her mother.

“Dad's not home?”

“No. He called, honey, and left a message for you. He'll be out of town on business for a while.”

“But he'll be back for Christmas. Won't he?”

“I'm sure he will.”

Gillian didn't say anything else. She ate the hamburger casserole her mother served—and noticed that her mother didn't eat. Afterward, she sat in the kitchen and played with a fork.

(You okay?)

The voice in her ear was a welcome relief. (Angel. Yeah, I'm all right. I was just thinking… about how everything started with Mom. It wasn't always like this. She was a teacher at the junior college….)

(I know.)

(And then—I think it was about five years ago—things just started happening. She started acting crazy. And then she was seeing things—what did I know about drinking then? I just thought she was nuts. It wasn't until Dad started finding empty bottles…)

(I know.)

(I just wish… that things could be different.) A pause. (Angel? Do you think maybe they could be?)

Another pause. Then Angel's voice was quiet. (I'll work on it, kid. But, yeah, I think maybe they could be.)

Gillian shut her eyes.

After a moment she opened them again. (Angel—how can I thank you? The things you're doing for me… I can't even start to tell you…)

(Don't mention it. And don't cry. A cheery face is worth triple A bonds. Besides, you have to answer the phone.)

(What phone?)

The phone rang.

(That phone.)

Gillian blew her nose and said a practice “Hello” to make sure her voice wasn't shaky. Then she took a deep breath and picked up the receiver.

“Gillian?”

Her fingers clenched on the phone. “Hi, David.”

“Look, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't even ask you that when—you know, this afternoon.”

“Sure, I'm okay.” Gillian didn't need Angel to tell her what to say to this. “I can handle myself, you know.”

“Yeah. But Tanya can be pretty intense sometimes. After you left she was—well, forget that.”

He doesn't want to say anything bad about her, Gillian thought. She said, “I'm fine.”

“It's just—” She could almost feel the frustration building on the other side of the line. And then David burst out as if something had snapped, “I didn't know!”

“What?”

“I didn't know she was—like that! I mean, she runs the teen helpline and she's on the Centralia relief committee and the Food Cupboard project and… Anyway, I thought she was different. A good person.”

Conscience twinged. “David, I think she
is
some of the things you thought. She's brave. When that window—”

“Quit it, Gillian.
You're
those things.
You're
brave and funny and—well, too honorable for your own good. You tried to give Tanya another chance.” He let out a breath. “But, anyway; you might have guessed, we're finished. I told Tanya that. And now…” His voice changed. Suddenly he laughed, sounding as if some burden had fallen off him. “Well, would you like me to drive you to the party Saturday night?”

Gillian laughed, too. “I'd like it. I'd love it.” (Oh, Angel—
thank you
!)

She was very happy.

The rest of the week was wonderful. Every day she wore something daring and flattering scavenged from the depths of her closet. Every day she seemed to get more popular. People looked up when she walked into a room, not just meeting her eyes, but trying to catch her eye. They waved to her from
a distance. They said hello up and down the halls. Everyone seemed glad to talk to her, and pleased if she wanted to talk to them. It was like being on a skyrocket, going higher and higher.

And, always, her guide and protector was with her. Angel had come to seem like a part of her, the most savvy and ingenious part. He provided quips, smoothed over awkward situations, gave advice about who to tolerate and who to snub. Gillian was developing an instinct for this, too. She was gaining confidence in herself, finding new skills every day. She was literally becoming a new person.

She didn't see much of Amy now. But Amy had Eugene, after all. And Gillian was so busy that she never even got to see David alone.

The day of the party she went to Houghton with Amanda the Cheerleader and Steffi the Singer. They laughed a lot, got whistled at everywhere, and shopped until they were dizzy. Gillian bought a dress and ankle boots—both approved by Angel.

When David picked her up that night, he let out a soft whistle himself.

“I look okay?”

“You look…” He shook his head. “Illegal, but also sort of spiritual. How do you
do
that?”

Gillian smiled.

Macon the Wallet's house was the house of a rich guy. A fleet of artsy reindeer made out of some kind of white twigs
and glowing with tiny lights graced the lawn. Inside, it was all high ceilings and track lighting, oriental rugs, old china, silver. Gillian was dazzled.

(My first
real
party! I mean, my first Popular Party. And it's even kind of, sort of for
me
.)

(Your first real party, and it's all for you. The world is your oyster, kid. Go out and crack it.)

Macon was coming toward her. Other people were looking. Gillian paused in the doorway of the room for effect, aware that she was making an entrance—and loving it.

Her outfit was designer casual. A black minidress with a pattern of purple flowers so dark it could hardly be distinguished. The soft, crepey material clung to her like a second skin. Matte black tights. And of course the ankle boots. Not much makeup; she'd decided on the fresh, soft look for her face. She'd darkened her lashes just enough to make the violet of her eyes a startling contrast.

She looked stunning… and effortless. And she knew it very well.

Macon's hooded eyes roved over her with something like suppressed hunger. “How's it going? You're looking good.”

“We feel good,” Gillian said, squeezing David's arm.

Macon's eyes darkened. He looked at the intersection of Gillian's hand and David's arm as if it offended him.

David looked back dispassionately, but a sort of wordless menace exuded from him. Macon actually took a step back.
But all he said was, “Well, my parents are gone for the weekend, so make yourself at home. There should be food somewhere.”

There was food everywhere. Every kind of munchy thing. Music blasted from the den, echoing all over the house. As they walked in, Cory greeted them with, “Hey, guys! Grab a glass, it's going fast.”

When he'd said that he would round up a keg last week, Gillian had foolishly misheard it as “a cake.” Now she understood. It was a keg of beer and everybody was drinking.

And not just beer. There were hard liquor bottles around. One guy was lying on a table with his mouth open while a girl poured something from a rectangular bottle into it.

“Hey, Jill, this is for you.” Cory was trying to give her a plastic glass with foam overflowing the top.

Gillian looked at him with open scorn. She didn't need Angel's help for this.

“Thanks, but I happen to
like
my brain cells. Maybe if you had more respect for yours you wouldn't be flunking biology.”