Fall From Grace (11 page)

There was never the perfect moment with dirty diapers and a crying baby. I remember the day she left just as clearly as if it was yesterday. It was a miserably rainy Tuesday, typical spring weather. She said she needed to get to the store for more formula. I said I would go, but she insisted. She had dark circles under her eyes; it had been a hard go the last two weeks. I thought she just needed some air and a little peace and quiet.

She kissed me and Stells Good-Bye and I swear I saw a flicker in her eyes. The flicker that later told me she wasn't ever coming back. She grabbed her coat and purse and that was the last I saw of her. I immediately thought she was kidnapped, in an accident, hurt or lost somewhere. There was no explanation for it. The police tried to calm me down and make me see the obvious conclusion - that she bolted. I wouldn't accept it and grew so agitated by them. My mother came over and basically sent me to my room to calm down.

Then I found the letter. It was rolled up like a scroll and tied with a red ribbon in my sock drawer. I could barely read the words; my hands were shaking so much. In a nutshell she didn't want this life, it wasn't what she signed up for. She loved me, but she's just not mother material. She couldn't stay, hoped I would understand in time, but I was never to try to find her. I never knew whether she noticed or not, but the note was tucked right next to the ring box. Maybe she found it and it scared her, maybe not, I'll never be sure. I felt so much guilt about it, like it was my fault. Maybe I was overbearing, crowding her; she was a free sprit and I was traditional and boring. I stopped beating myself up about it awhile ago, but I still think of her almost every day and wonder if we ever cross her mind.
 

STELLA

It's Monday morning and I just can't wait to get to school. I haven't felt like this in well - ever. I woke up at the crack of dawn wide-awake. What am I going to wear today?! It has to be cool but not overly done and pretentious. It has to he sexy but not slutty. This will be the first time I've seen him since work on Saturday. He left with bags of clothes, but no mention of my number or a date or anything, just a 'see you Monday' and away he went. Typical guy.

I'm going to play it cool, and wait for him to make the first move. That is if he actually will. On Saturday, I thought without a doubt he was flirting. As I internalized every word we said to each other since then (as all girls do and anyone who says differently is a liar), self-doubt is making a nice argument and now I'm not so sure. Whatever the case, I'm a hot mess, littered with insecurities and the intense obsession to look really cute today. Who is this girl anyways? I think I liked her better when she was laid back and cared more for Typography Documentaries then boys.
 

I end up in skinny jeans, pale pink ballet flats and a white shirt with the buttons undone just enough to see the very tip top of my light peach lacy bra. A little peek but nothing to get Mrs. Dexter, our principal and proper fashion nazi, in a tizzy. I piled on lots of necklaces and nervously waited for Gabs, chewing my nails to the cuticle. I know, filthy habit. Murrie is under going the switch to summer tires so thankfully Gabs can pick me up and I can avoid the stinky bus.

It looks really nice today so I don't even grab a coat. It's funny how naked you feel that first warm day of the year when you forgo the jacket and step outside without your winter armour; like you left the house with no pants on.
 

I grab my bag and aviator sunglasses as I hear her roaring up the driveway.

Jumping in the Subaru, Gabs eyes me speculatively. "Well well well, aren't we miss Glamour girl today. Quelle est l'occasion speciale?" she goads, judging my wardrobe blatantly as I fiddle with my seat belt, unable to get the sucker to click in. I can't hide anything from this girl, so I avoid her eyes and try not to start giggling maniacally; I do this when I'm nervous. Never sit beside me at a funeral, I'm so inappropriate.
 

I scramble to clear my brain of everything Ash. Dead puppies, war, poverty, naked old people (shudder). Yup that last one did it.

Finally, unable to avoid the death stare I say, "Geez Gabby, can't I try to look nice every now and again?" She's so not buying it.

"No. No you can't," she replies flatly, giving the stink eye before sliding her knock off channel sunglasses back on and peeling out of the driveway. My composure is short lived, as my lips curl up uncontrollably. Traitors.
           

"So I take it you've decided to give Todd the old college try? You little slut you," she jokes, completely misinterpreting my anxious behaviour.

"No!" I blurt, "God Gabs, I can't date Todd. I mean he's a nice guy but dude, really? Definitely not my type. I prefer my guys of the asshole variety. Oh and they have to be at least a little ugly, completely broke and have no future whatsoever. I hate competition."

Looking genuinely surprised, her look turns calculating with the idea of why I might be showing a little too much cleavage. Gabs is just worried about me I know. She's cautious because I know she thinks Ash is too cool for school and not right for me. She says he will break my heart and stomp it into the ground if I'm not careful. She's probably right but I don't care anymore. I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines of my life and watching other people play the game.

"Then I want to know
why
you're acting like a grinning idiot today and for the love of Pete, please tell me it isn't for that arse-wipe Asher Grey."

"Oh Gabby hush it. I thought you'd be wowed by my awesome attempt at looking better. I wore not only blush, but mascara too!" Flicking my eyelashes at her, I catch a trickle of a smile.

"Poor Todd. Keeping him in mind Stella, you might want to do up a few buttons there. He looked really love sick puppyish over you at The Grind. I wouldn't be surprised if that lacy number sent him pitching a big one in his hipster jeans, and THAT is something I don't need to see before third period - thank you very much."

"Really? That bad?"

Self consciously I do up one more button.
 

First period for us is French. The classroom is way at the end of the hallway so my eyes are on high alert as we make our way there, although I didn't see his car in the parking lot. I try to mask my disappointment but then I spy Francine, Shit. I forgot all about her. It's one thing that I made fun of her on Friday, it is quite another for her to find out I'm jazzing over Asher. I should transfer schools now, save myself the torture and ridicule that is sure to follow. I hide behind some hulky football dude and duck into class before she can rip me a new one. I hate confrontation.

"Slick move Stella. Look, don't get all freaked, she's harmless, what's the worst she can do?" Gabby is settling into the seat beside me, turning off her cell. I have never seen her afraid of anyone, I envy that. It isn't like I'm a big nerd and everyone hates me; I actually have a lot of friends, well enough anyways. But if I ever annoyed or pissed anyone off with my sarcasm, I'd feel so guilty that I'd worry myself into a hot mess. Anxiety issues are my specialty. I bitch in private and Gabs is the only one privy to my witty charm.
 
Dr. O'Leary would have some clinical terms for it, but for me, the root of my fear is people not liking me, so I try my best to be the bigger person and suck up an apology when needed.

I sigh thinking of all the ways she can humiliate me, "Oh I dunno, tell everyone I have the clap, dual sex organs, an extra nipple?"

"Well yeah there's THAT, but c'mon, do you think anyone would truly believe her?" she says sounding annoyed that I am wasting my time on this. So not helping Gabby.

"Well yes, yes they would," I say without hesitation.

"Who has the clap?" a deep voice joins us from behind my shoulder.

I jump out of my skin. It's funny how you can know someone so little and yet their voice is seared into your memory. Like Darth Vader or Christopher Walken; their voices are their signature, and now I can add one more name to my memory card. I feel a shiver run down my spine as I turn to see Ash sitting in the seat beside me.

"What are you doing here!?" I sputter.

"Well I thought I would brush up on my french. It's such a beautiful language, wouldn't you agree Gabby?" he asks, switching to look at her. I can tell she's scowling with her Spanish stink eye.
 

"It's ok, but Spanish is way more difficult to master. I much prefer it over French." She flicks her hair over her shoulder in an act of indifference as she checks out her recent manicure.

"Don't tell your mom that. But I do agree completely."

He then starts chatting in perfect Spanish to her, I'm not joking. Gabs is left speechless, for once. Although it doesn't last and she replies with a string of words that sound like she's ripping him a new one but in actuality it's probably 'Hey, I like the colour blue'. I'm not sure what they've said but it ends with a chilly glare from her to me. What did
I
do?
 

"Aright, alright, Mr. Cool. Just keep your eyes on Madame Ouillette, we're trying to learn here," Gabs barks. She's lying of corse; she doesn't actually need to learn a thing. She's been bilingual since she was three. It's just a required credit that she's breezing through. She flips open her book and pretends to concentrate.

Trapped between the ice queen and the cocky smart ass, I study my text without reading a single word. Good times.

"Can I share your text until I get mine?" he asks with a grin as I hear Gabs heave big sigh next to me.

You can stake claim to my unborn child if you want, but I don't say that part out loud. I nod a yes and try not to act like a dolt for the next 80 minutes.

ASH

I haven't been running as exercise in, well, have I
ever
been running? Out of sport that is, not running to save my ass - I've done that loads of times. It's not my idea of 'super fun time'. I overheard her tell Gabs that she was going for a run this afternoon. Thought it would be a good way to get her alone, see if I can figure this chick out. I know for one thing that her little girlfriend does NOT like me. I can't help but like her though. She's a handful. Man, what a fantastic demon she would be.
 

So far our encounters have been highly populated and I thought if I were to casually 'bump' into her on a run I could better gauge her particular demon strength. Sometimes with all the human energies floating around it's harder to pin point, but if I got her alone in the woods, caught off-guard, I might be able to figure her out. So here I am, at the Gorge, dressed in my lame 'jogger gear', waiting for her to show up and feeling a lot like that creepy stalker guy.
 

I've watched her really closely this week, she's finished 'the change' I'm sure of it. I certainly know the guys at school have noticed. They've been panting over her constantly; it's driving me mental. What she's wearing, how she's wearing it, describing her every body part in great detail, the things they want to do to her, or her to them. They wouldn't last two seconds alone with her.
 

I can't even fathom how she can't see it clear as day, but she seems utterly oblivious to the fact that she's changing so quickly on the physical realm. I sense her demon confidence kicking in though, no question. This week has been hell for me too. If I hear one more pre-pubescent moron talk about getting her naked, I'm going to shoot an electric bolt into their junk. I can't figure out why those comments would bother me so much either. It's an emotion I don't understand all that well; one I don't think I have ever had. Is this what jealousy feels like?

All I know is that I wanted to rip out their throats when they started to talk about Stella that way. I can't fathom why I would feel these things for her either, I barely know her, and yet there it is. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit I felt something for her, something I can't explain. I definitely feel a sexual attraction to her, but it feels different somehow. I feel very protective of her; she seems so vulnerable and lost in this human world. I think she knows she doesn't belong, but has no idea why or how. When I'm around her I can feel the thrum of electricity bouncing back and forth. I've never felt it this strong before though.

I know I'm going to have to do it; explain what we are. Explain that her whole existence she knows to be true is actually a lie. My God, how do you casually bring THAT one up? 'Oh yeah, by the way Stella, you're a demon. Your mom was one too, not sure what you can do, you might be capable of incinerating your lunch tray with one touch, but do you have your Geometry assignment done?'

I mean, I don't have to tell her myself, I can walk away and let her figure it out on her own, but that would be cruel. There's no telling what she's capable of and what she could do if she doesn't understand what's happening to her. We demons stick to ourselves mostly, it's a pretty solitary life; but whatever humanity I guess I do have won't let me walk away. Whether it's my civic demon duty or something that goes far deeper.
 

I parked in the main lot and made my way into the woods where she was headed the last time. Picking up my pace so that I actually can fake being a
good
runner, I hear her god-awful voice approaching. She is so terribly bad at that, someone ought to tell her. In a sudden movement, that in retrospect I should have been better at avoiding, I'm off my feet and kissing the dirt. It came out of nowhere, taking out my legs as I barrelled into the ground. Flipping over in a flash to figure out the threat, I see him. My adversary. Her freakin' dog.