Halo (6 page)

Molly shrugged and tugged on my sleeve, leading me out of the locker room and into the gym where a blonde fifty-something woman with a sun-ravaged face and Lycra shorts was bouncing on the balls of her feet and shouting at us to drop and give her twenty.

“Don’t you just hate gym teachers?” Molly said, rolling her eyes. “They’re so . . .
up
all the time.”

I didn’t reply, but given the steely-faced look of the woman and my lack of athletic enthusiasm, we probably weren’t going to get along very well.

Half an hour later we had run ten laps of the court, done fifty each of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and lunges, and that was only the warm-up. I felt sorry for the other students who were staggering around with chests heaving and shirts damp with sweat. Angels didn’t get tired; our energy was limitless and so didn’t need to be conserved. We didn’t perspire, either; we could run a marathon and not produce a single drop of sweat. Molly became suddenly aware of this.

“You’re not even puffing!” she said accusingly. “Jeez, you must be really fit.”

“Or use a really good deodorant,” added Taylah, tipping the contents of her water bottle down her cleavage. It attracted the attention of a gaggle of boys nearby, who gaped at her. “It’s getting hot in here!” she teased, parading past the boys with her now see-through shirt until the gym teacher noticed the spectacle and charged over to us like a raging bull.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, except that I found myself scouring the corridors, hoping to catch another glimpse of the school captain, the boy called Xavier Woods. Given what I had learned about him from Molly, I was feeling flattered that he had paid me any attention at all.

I thought back to our meeting on the pier and remembered marveling at his eyes—such a brilliant, startling blue. They were the kind of eyes you couldn’t look into for too long without going weak at the knees. I wondered now what might have happened had I accepted his invitation and sat down beside him. Would we have talked while I tried my hand at fishing? What would we have said?

I shook myself mentally. This wasn’t why I had been sent to earth. I made myself promise that in the days that followed I wouldn’t think about Xavier Woods at all. If I chanced to see him, I would ignore him. If he tried to speak to me, I would give token answers and move away. In short, I wouldn’t allow him to have any effect on me.

Needless to say, I was to fail spectacularly.

Earthbound

When the last bell sounded, I grabbed my books and literally made a run for it, eager to avoid the teeming halls. I’d been jostled, interrogated, and scrutinized enough for one day. Despite my efforts I hadn’t managed to find a single quiet moment; during my breaks Molly had dragged me off to meet her friends, who all shot questions at me like rounds of machine-gun fire. Despite that, I’d made it to the end of the first day without serious mishap, and I was pleased with my achievement.

I loitered under the palms outside the school gates, waiting for Gabriel. I leaned back and rested my head against the tree’s cool, jagged trunk. I was awed by the earth’s varied vegetation. Palms, for one, struck me as such strange-looking creations. They reminded me of sentries with their lean, straight trunks and their exploding branches that looked just like the plumed helmets of palace guards. As I stood there, I watched the students tossing their bags into cars, peeling off their blazers, and looking visibly more relaxed. Some were heading off in the direction of the town to gather at local cafés or favorite haunts.

I didn’t feel relaxed; I was suffering from information overload. My head buzzed as I tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the space of a few hours. Even the limitless energy we had been created with couldn’t prevent the creeping feeling of exhaustion that was coming over me. I wanted nothing more than the comfort of home.

I spotted Gabriel making his way down the main steps, closely followed by a small gaggle of admirers, mostly girls. My brother might have been a celebrity for the attention he attracted. The girls lingered several yards behind him, trying hard not to appear conspicuous. Judging by his appearance, Gabe had managed to maintain his composure and poise throughout the day, but I could see from the hard set of his jaw and the slightly ruffled look of his hair that he was ready to go home. The girls stopped speaking mid-sentence when he glanced in their direction. I knew my brother and guessed that despite his apparent composure, he would never welcome such attention. He seemed embarrassed rather than flattered by it.

Gabriel was nearly at the gates when a shapely brunette stumbled in front of him in a poorly executed attempt at an accidental fall. In one smooth movement Gabe caught her in his arms just before she hit the ground. There were audible gasps of admiration from the watching students, and I saw some of the other girls bristle with jealousy at not having come up with the idea themselves. But there was little to warrant their envy: Gabriel merely steadied the girl, replaced the items that had fallen from her bag, wordlessly picked up his battered briefcase, and kept walking. He wasn’t being unfriendly; he simply wouldn’t have seen the need for any exchange of words. The girl stared wistfully after him and her friends crowded around, hoping some of the glamour of the moment might rub off on them.

“You poor thing, you have a fan club already,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically as we began our walk home.

“I’m not the only one,” Gabriel replied. “You didn’t exactly escape attention either.”

“Yes, but no one’s really tried to talk to me.” I didn’t mention my encounter with Xavier Woods—something told me Gabriel wouldn’t approve.

“Be grateful for small mercies,” said Gabriel drily.

I related the day, point by point, to Ivy when we got home. Gabriel, who hadn’t been thrilled by every little detail, remained silent. Ivy smothered a smile when I told the story of the swooning girls.

“Teenage girls can be quite lacking in subtlety,” Ivy mused. “The boys, on the hand, are much harder to read. It’s all very interesting, don’t you think?”

“They all just seem lost to me,” Gabe said. “I wonder if any of them really know what life is all about. I didn’t realize we’d be starting from scratch. This is going to be harder than I thought.” He fell silent, and we all were reminded of the epic task we had ahead of us.

“We always knew it was going to be hard,” Ivy said softly.

“You know something I noticed,” I said. “It seems like a lot has gone on in this town over the last few months. I heard some of the most awful stories.”

“Like what?” Ivy asked.

“Two students have died from freak accidents recently,” I said. “And there have been outbreaks of sickness and fires and all sorts of strange things. People are starting to notice that something’s wrong.”

“Looks like we got here just in time,” said Ivy.

“But how will we find whoever . . . or whatever is responsible?” I asked.

“There is no way to find them yet,” said Gabriel. “It’s our job to clean up the mess and wait until they show up again. Trust me; they won’t go down without a fight.”

We all fell silent as we thought about confronting such random destruction.

“So . . . I made a friend today!” I announced, in an attempt to lighten the gloom that was settling over us. It came out sounding as if it was a major achievement, and they both looked at me with their now-familiar mix of concern and disapproval.

“Is there something wrong with that?” I said defensively. “Aren’t I allowed to have friends? I thought the whole idea was to blend in.”

“Blending in is one thing; but do you realize that friends require time and energy?” said Gabriel. “They’ll want to
bond
.” He winced as if the thought was painful to him.

“As in physically meld together?” I was confused.

“I mean, they’ll want to be emotionally close,” my brother explained. “Human relationships can be unnaturally intimate—I’ll never understand it.”

“They can also be a distraction,” Ivy somehow felt the need to add. “Not to mention the fact that friendship comes with expectations, so choose carefully.”

“What kind of expectations?”

“Human friendships are based on trust. Friends share problems, exchange confidences and . . .” She petered out with a shake of her golden head and looked imploringly at Gabriel.

“What Ivy means is that anyone who becomes your friend will start to ask questions and expect answers,” said Gabe. “They will want to become part of your life and that’s dangerous.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied indignantly. “You know I’d never do anything that might jeopardize the mission. How stupid do you think I am?”

I was pleased to see them exchange guilty looks. I might have been younger and less experienced than they were, but it was no reason to treat me like an idiot.

“We don’t think that,” said Gabriel in a more conciliatory tone. “Of course we trust you; it’s just that we want to avoid things getting complicated.”

“They won’t,” I said. “But I still want to experience life as a teenager.”

“We just have to be careful.” Gabriel reached out to give my hand a squeeze. “We’ve been entrusted with a task that is much more important than our individual desires.”

Put like that he had a point. Why was he so irritatingly wise? And why was it so impossible to stay mad at him?

I felt much more relaxed at home. In a short time we’d already made the place our own. We were manifesting a typically human trait—to personalize and identify with a space—and home felt like a sanctuary after the day we’d had. Even Gabriel, although he would have been loath to admit it, was starting to enjoy living here. We were rarely bothered by the doorbell ringing (the house’s imposing façade seemed to deter visitors), so once inside we were free to pursue our own interests.

Although I’d been eager to get home, I now found myself at a loss as to how I should be occupying my time. It was all right for Gabriel and Ivy. They were always absorbed in a book, playing the baby grand, or up to their elbows in flour in the kitchen. Without a hobby of my own, I was left to wander aimlessly around the house. I decided to focus on domestic chores for a while. I brought in a load of laundry and folded it before putting the kettle on. The house smelled a little musty from being shut up all day, so I opened some windows and cleared the clutter on the dining table. I picked sprigs of pungent pine from the yard and arranged them in a slender vase. I noticed there was some junk mail in the mailbox and made a mental note to purchase one of the No Junk Mail stickers I’d seen displayed on some of the other mailboxes in the street. I glanced at one of the leaflets before dropping them into the trash and saw that a new sports store had opened in town. It was called, rather unoriginally, I thought, SportsMart, and was advertising its opening sale.

It felt strange to be carrying out ordinary tasks when my whole existence was so far from ordinary. I wondered what other seventeen-year-old girls were doing at that moment—cleaning their bedrooms at the behest of frustrated parents, listening to their favorite bands on their iPods, sending each other text messages to make plans for the weekend, checking their e-mails when they should be studying?

We’d been given homework in at least three subjects and I’d written it down diligently in my school planner, unlike many of my fellow students who seemed happy to rely on memory. I told myself I should start it now in order to be prepared for the following day, but I knew that it would take hardly any time and was unlikely to pose any intellectual challenge. In short, it would be drop-dead easy. I’d know the answer to any question asked, so going through the motions of homework seemed like a tedious waste of time. Nevertheless, I hauled my school bag up to my room. My bedroom was the loft at the very top of the stairs, facing the sea. Even with the windows shut you could hear the sound of waves crashing over rocks. There was a narrow lacework balcony with a wicker chair and table that looked out over the sea where boats bobbed rhythmically on the water. I sat there for a while, highlighter in hand, my psychology textbook open in front of me on a page titled, “Galvanic Skin Response.”

I desperately needed to keep my mind occupied, if for no other reason than to stop thinking about my encounters with Bryce Hamilton’s school captain. Everything seemed to stay with me—his piercing eyes and his tie slightly askew. Molly’s words kept echoing in my mind:
I wouldn’t go for him if I were you. . . . He’s got baggage.
But why was I so intrigued? As much as I wanted to shut him out of my mind, I couldn’t seem to. I would make myself think of other things, but before long there he was again, his face floating across the page I was trying to read, the image of a smooth hand wearing a plaited leather wristband cutting across my thoughts. I wondered what Emily had been like; what it felt like to lose someone you loved.

I made a pretense of tidying my room before wandering down to the kitchen to offer Gabriel some help with dinner. He’d continued to surprise Ivy and me by throwing himself wholeheartedly into the task of cooking for us all. Part of his motivation was our well-being, but he also found the handling and preparation of food fascinating. Like music, it provided him with a creative outlet. When I walked in, he was standing at the white marble workbench, cleaning an assortment of mushrooms with a checked dish towel and occasionally frowning as he referred to a cookbook propped open on a metal stand. Soaking in a small bowl were what looked like pieces of black bark. Over his shoulder I read the title of the recipe: “Mushroom Risotto.” It looked ambitious for a beginner, but then I reminded myself that this was the Archangel Gabriel. He excelled at everything without needing to practice.

“Hope you like mushrooms,” he said, seeing the curiosity in my face.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” I replied, sitting down at the table. I liked watching Gabriel work and was always struck by the deftness and precision of his movements. Under his touch, ordinary things seemed transformed. The transition from angel to human had been much smoother for Gabe and Ivy; they seemed removed from the trivialities of life, but at the same time seemed to know exactly what they were doing. They were used to being able to sense each other in the Kingdom, a skill that had followed them on our mission. They found me much trickier to read and it worried them.

“Would you like some tea?” I asked, wanting to make some kind of contribution. “Where’s Ivy?”

She walked in just at that moment, wearing linen pants and a tank top, her hair damp from the shower. Already there was something different about my sister. She had lost some of her dreaminess, and there was a purpose in her face I hadn’t seen before. She seemed to have other things on her mind, because as soon as I’d poured the tea, she excused herself from our company. I’d also caught sight of her recently scribbling page upon page in a notebook.

“Is Ivy okay?” I asked Gabriel once she’d gone.

“She just wants to get things rolling,” he said. I didn’t know or ask exactly how Ivy planned to do this, but I was envious of her sense of purpose. When would I discover mine? When would I have the satisfaction of knowing I’d done something really worthwhile?

“Get things rolling how?”

“You know your sister’s never short on ideas. She’ll come up with something.” Was Gabriel being deliberately mysterious? Did he realize how much in the dark I felt?

“What should I do?” I asked, hating the way I sounded so petulant.

“That will come to you,” said my brother. “Give yourself some time.”