Rewrite Redemption (18 page)

I welcomed Monday as if it was Christmas and I was five. The thought of fourth period, room 217, had me in the shower before sunrise. Since the moonlight sighting, her face hadn’t left my thoughts. It floated in front of me like a hologram, and I replayed every nuance of her expression over and over. After a few hundred repetitions, it almost cancelled out the critic in my head that read me the riot act every time I sneezed wrong.

Almost.

At night I dreamed of her, waking up feeling all warm and…well, you know. Then reality would slam me in the face, and I’d be back treading water just to make it through the day. But the weekend was finally over. I was more than ready to get the heck out of this tomb and see if I could soak up a little sanity from the real world. I was actually psyched to go to school. I knew if she was there, I’d be feeling way better whether I met her or not, just from being in her proximity.

As soon as it was light, I crept through the silent house, carrying my shoes. I skipped the kitchen and breakfast. As usual, I hoped to escape before anyone else got up. I had a one-per-day, soul-sucking limit, and I’d recently realized that the morning dose was easier to avoid. Not that I had much soul left to suck, but I wanted to hold on to what little I had. Camping out on her front lawn had become the only thing keeping me sane. Too bad I couldn’t keep a flask of her essence in my pocket.

I eased open the front door and looked up at another cloudless, blue sky. The air was brisk but with a hint of the warmth that would come later in the day. I took off my jacket and tossed it on the porch swing, realizing I was no longer annoyed by the constant, Colorado sun. After a weekend alternating between warzone and mausoleum mode, the sun was kind of welcoming.

Maybe I was getting used to it. Maybe it was because I knew I’d see her in a matter of hours, regardless of the weather. I didn’t know. Maybe it was that there was a window through the madness now…a chance that I could fix this mess I’d made. If anything could get me up and out the door at the break of dawn, that could. But it was more than that—it was her.

The very
idea
of her.

There are only about a hundred and ten Editors in the country, and out of that, maybe ten are below the age of twenty. As far as I knew, there wasn’t anybody else even remotely like her in the Guild. And that I would meet her out in the world, instead of at an Editor function?

I knew what Daniel would say. “That’s destiny, man. There are no coincidences. Something that unusual? It’s a sign…a piece of your destiny. You better grab it while you can.” And then he’d grin, his white teeth in that dark face shining like piano keys. He’d drum his sticks on whatever surface he could reach and say, “Write a song about it, man. Play it out in the music.” I really missed having Daniel around. 

I took a deep breath, and leaving about twenty pounds of angst on the porch, I headed down the quiet street for school. I cued up “You,” by The Pretty Reckless…something light and mellow. I stopped at the bus station and grabbed a latte and a bagel with cream cheese. After one sip, I chucked the latte for an OJ. I didn’t need caffeine amping me up even more, not after the weekend I’d had.

Better slow than sorry.

I reached the mostly empty campus and headed towards the huge maple on the corner. I wanted a hit of energy before school, plus it gave me a great vantage point for watching people arrive. I dropped down against the trunk, instantly soothed by the tree’s strong connection to the matrix. Immediately, I could tell it was bonded with an Editor. It was probably where she came to replenish when she was at school. Maybe, she’d do that today.

I felt a hint of her essence in the mix, soft and clear. Grasping on to the wisp, I replayed the movie of her in my mind over and over for probably thirty minutes, ignoring the growing cacophony around me.

The scent of pot wafted through the mountain air, as stoners took one last toke to get them through the morning. As the minutes passed, the noise escalated. Competing playlists clashed, along with the sounds of kids arriving—screeches, chattering, yelling, car horns—now too loud to ignore. It was time to turn off the A.J. show. I certainly didn’t want to miss the real deal, maybe even meet her face to face before school. I was giving my fantasy one last run when I heard a high-pitched voice call my name.

“Constantine?”

I winced at the nasal whine that shattered my daydream. Perfume overload smacked me, like passing a skunk on the highway. I opened one eye. It was that annoying cheerleader and her posse, Rich Girl One and Rich Girl Two.

Lovely
.

“Yeah?” Okay, I could be a little more polite than that. I tried again. “Hi, how’s it going?”

“Great,” she returned, smiling and flipping her hair.

“Great,” echoed Rich Girls One and Two, in chorus.

“Remember me? Sloane Cheney, we met last week,” she gushed, thrusting out her chest.

 I nodded and gave them a half-assed smile. Apparently, the chorus didn’t warrant introduction. And I appreciate a chest as much as the next guy; but after about two seconds, I appreciate a soul attached. I’d watched this chick in the hallways, slamming on people. It wasn’t pretty. Plus, the voice—nails on a chalkboard—an insult to my sensitive auditory senses.

“Um, right, Sloane, what’s up?” I didn’t feel motivated to summon up anything more complicated. The chest just wasn’t enough to do it for me…especially not now.

“A party!” she syruped, looking around for a clean place to sit.

That knocked me into action. I stood up abruptly, grabbing my backpack. The last thing I wanted was for A.J. to think I brought them to where she hung out. “On your way to class?” I asked, leading the group away from the tree.

“It’s Saturday night,” she said, hurrying to keep up with my long legs. “I know you’re new here and wanted to invite you. We like to help new kids get acquainted with the Boulder scene.” She smiled and gestured to Rich Girls One and Two, who smiled on cue.

“Especially cute guys,” blurted out Rich Girl One, looking up at me suggestively.

Cheerleader glared at her. So did Rich Girl Two.

Rich Girl One’s face fell, and she quietly added, “We welcome cute
girls
too and—”

Cheerleader interrupted, stepping in front of her, “Most of the football team will be there, and a lot of the, well,
fun
kids. We like to party here in Boulder. You should come.”

“Well…”

“It will be really tight,” said Rich Girl Two.

Apparently Rich Girl One was on probation now and couldn’t speak again without permission. Rich Girl Two looked over at her leader for confirmation she’d acted appropriately.

“Totally,” said Cheerleader and rewarded her with a little nod. She looked up at me and gave me the smile daddy paid big bucks for. “So, how tall are you, anyway?” She put her hand on my arm.

How tall am I? Really? We just met and that’s what she wants to know about me?
I answered, “six-one, six-two. I haven’t measured lately.”

“I like tall guys,” she gushed.

What do you say to something like that? Thank you? Hurray for me? This chick didn’t want to know me, she wanted an accessory to her shoes—someone tall enough to let her pull them off. That wasn’t a role I liked playing. Besides, the perfume was overwhelming.

Suddenly, I felt a clean whiff of “nice” break through the clutter. It was far in the distance, but I was so tuned to her energy now, I could detect even the barest hint of it. A.J. could be blocks away, but she was coming closer. I caught my breath and smiled reflexively, forgetting the buzzing, rich-girl flies.

“
So, we hope to see you at the party,” said the cheerleader, jolting me back to reality. She batted her eyelashes, obviously thinking my smile was for her. “Let me put my number in your phone and you can text me for the info.”

I shot out a quick lie. “I left it on the charger this morning…new house, everything’s kind of crazy.” As if I’d ever forget my phone.

“No problem,” she said. And before I knew what was happening, she grabbed my hand and wrote her number on it. This chick was just frickin annoying.

Besides, A.J. was getting close. I could feel her. I needed to ditch the flies and I needed to do it fast. Plus, now I needed to wash the stupid number off my hand.

“Um, thanks,” I said, pulling my hand away. Reluctantly, I smiled down at her. I figured turning on the charm might allow for faster freedom. “Sounds fun, but I’ve got to go. I have to stop by the office before class. I’m late. Thanks for the invite.”

I nodded at the flies and sprinted towards one of the side entrances. At least, I knew A.J. was on her way. If I was lucky, I might catch her in the hallways.

If not, there was still room 217.

On the way to school, we chatted happily about the weekend. Ipod had Lex and me in hysterics by mimicking Sam, mimicking that old actor guy, playing the air guitar. As we walked onto the campus, I was so caught up in the moment that I forgot I wasn’t in disguise. Still laughing, I headed down the walk, completely forgetting to implement the invisibility code.

That
was a mistake.

Who would be standing on the sidewalk giving me her “if looks could kill, you’d be dead meat” look?

Ding! If you answered, “Who are Bratz Doll and her suck-ups-in-waiting?” you’d win the prize. She looked annoyed. The Kicks were standing at attention the requisite three feet behind her, waiting for orders.

Perfect
.

“Ah, the Bratz Doll,” said Lex, “just what I wanted this morning, a dose of disgusting. Yes, for the crime of looking better than she does, you’ve been labeled enemy combatant. You must be punished.”

“I knew I should have kept the hoodie,” I said, slowing down.

“The hoodie’s dead,” Lex said. “The hoodie’s history. I’ll handle this.”

Bratz Doll was wearing these ridiculous shoes that made her, like, ten feet tall. I didn’t get the point. She towered over most of the guys, although it did put her breasts right at their eye level. Maybe
that
was the point. But she had to hold her neck back in a funny way to balance. It kinda gave her a double chin. Not a good look, really, in spite of the eye-level cleavage.

 “Let’s go in the front door,” said Ipod, turning left. “She probably thinks you’re a new girl and haven’t yet cleared your passport through her. You know she hates that.”

I followed Ipod, leaving Lex to cover my back. We sped up, but the Bratz Doll actually ran to intercept us—bad sign. Apparently, she was determined to take me down.

Whatever
.

She had to go through Lex first.

“That’s impressive, actually,” said Ipod, watching her run in five-inch heels. “I certainly couldn’t do that. They say everyone has a talent if you look hard enough.”

The wall of perfume that preceded them made me queasy, and I heard Ipod gag.

“Later,” he said under his breath. And then he ducked and detoured, weaving into a group of giggling, freshmen girls.

Handling Cheney was Lex’s job.

I suddenly got really interested in something in my bag. I always completely ignored her, hoping that someday she’d get the hint and leave me the heck alone.   

“So, Jones, what pulled you out of your shabby, hoodie shell?” Bratz Doll asked, breathing hard and flipping her hair. “Wardrobe crumble to dust?”

“I think she lent it to a friend,” contributed one of the Kicks. “I saw her hoodie on that wino, digging in the dumpster.” 

Under her breath, Lex said to me, “she
so
sets herself up.” Then out loud, she said, “meeting the wino at the dumpster again, Misty? Surely, you can find a better-smelling place to hook up.” She placed one hand symbolically behind her back, indicating this was an easy battle.

“You…you…you suck!” Misty sputtered.

Lex smirked and whipped out a Tootsie Roll Pop from her book bag. She’d been waiting for this one. She pulled the paper off and twirled it around in her mouth with a loud sucking sound. “I do suck, Misty, thank you very much. I’m busy now—you know—
sucking
, so can I ignore you some other time?”

“I’m sure,” Misty said, wobbling on her heels. She frowned as she struggled to make sense of Lex’s diss. Misty didn’t exactly have mad skills when it came to comebacks.