She Speaks to Angels (10 page)

By the time we finished our shopping we walked out with two bags. One held a gold velvet gown that swooped around my neck, a gold purse and heels. The other carried a couple of pairs of jeans, pants and tops. Mom really knew how to take my mind off of going back into English class.

***

When I reached my bedroom after dinner I threw myself over my fluffy sheets. Ham casserole rolled around in my stomach. My eyes caught the ceiling and thoughts circled like a carousel until I fell asleep. Tommy. Clark. Kian. Angels. My head raced dizzily with dreams...nightmares.

The man from the alley stumbles over the gravely road as a black winged creature descends toward him. In flight he, it, appears so elegant and regal. Like nothing could stop the force of the thrust under the wings. The creature maintains close proximity with confidence until it vanishes behind the corner with the man, neither to be seen again.

My body levitates to the rooftop of the school with black feathers floating about me in whirls. Frolicking like a child, I dance in the feathers as if in love for the first time. Laughter falls from my lips as wind whistles through my hair, and then the sky crackles and rain pours over me, sticking my clothes to my body.

Then he appears, the black winged creature, with something in his mouth. But his face is hidden in the storm and the night. I tiptoe forward as if any sound might startle him. Squinting my eyes, I stretch to see inside of him. Flapping wings push wind toward me as his mouth opens in a deafening screech. With his mouth wide open, I can see what he holds inside. ME!

I jumped up out of bed and felt sweat rolling like beads down my neck. I took a few deep breaths. As I brushed my long hair out of my face and behind my ears, I crawled to the edge of my bed and slid open the nightstand drawer where I had hid the last of what we recovered from Tommy’s locker. I didn’t want the notepad disappearing in the night like Tommy’s other items. Gripping it, I flipped to the drawings. Good thing I placed it underneath my pillow that night everything else disappeared. A tingle of guilt made me shudder as I wondered if I should have given this to his mother. She certainly would have appreciated it.

I paused at the angel depiction, the one I had seen in my dreams. The black winged creature. Tommy’s artwork was infectious, possessing a real absorbing quality. Did Tommy encounter this angel in the city? This same angel that chased a man in the alley? Perhaps something similar happened to Tommy on the rooftop? Maybe the fear of this beautiful thing pushed him over the edge? An accident. Because angels didn’t murder, did they?

My lids felt heavy. Sundays I loved to sleep in, eat and lounge around the house. With everything on my mind this day I simply became more sluggish. I didn’t want to move from my bed, and I just stared at the notepad as if I were in a trance. My brain began to hurt. Making sense of all this didn’t make any sense.

I rolled over and laid the notepad on the nightstand, picked up a magazine and stared out my window. The sun had set hours ago, but I couldn’t get comfortable. I didn’t want to get up and I didn’t want to sleep. But my lids kept drooping. The words on the magazine began to look hazy, so I closed my eyes for several minutes. Or so I thought.

The jarring sound of a crash outside woke me. My eyes felt better and flashed to the alarm clock. 2:00A.M. I sprinted to the window and pulled back the curtain and saw a blanket of blackness. Twinkling stars and a bright moon provided the only light. But as I stared further and deeper I made out the silhouette forms of two creatures fluttering in the sky. Legs, arms, wings.

The taller winged being struggled with the shorter being for several seconds, each pulling and pushing the other until the taller pushed himself away from the house and into the clouds. I couldn’t be sure in the blackness and from such a distance, but he appeared darker in color. The shorter winged being fluttered toward the almost full moon, and the reflections of moonlight shone over his heavenly body. If I hadn’t known the term I still would have called him an Angel. I couldn’t take my eyes off the radiance of his essence.

I felt like I’d been healed of everything in that instant. Dad’s sudden collapse. Tommy’s murder. The images of Tommy’s body outside English class. Unforeseeable danger. Healed of everything that had drawn me into the dark abyss time and time again. This encounter felt nothing like my nightmare, like the angel that had me locked in his mouth...but then the angel disappeared, and so did the serenity.

I stayed in front of my window for at least an hour afterward. I could hardly believe what I had seen. Reflections on the Kindle and recordings on the iPhone paled in comparison. Nothing had prepared me for something like this. For the unreal, the supernatural. I felt like I walked on air, although my feet set firmly on the carpeted floor.

I didn’t understand quite what I had seen, either. Flipping open Tommy’s notepad again I skimmed the sketches of the black winged angel and I saw nothing that resembled the celestial creature who had floated under the moon. Nothing. But then the sketches were only pictures drawn by human hands, imperfect. I had seen the ethereal angel in real life. Or maybe Tommy and I saw different beings? I couldn’t be sure. But one thing I did know, there was no way I could fall asleep again tonight.

Sitting on my bed in contemplation, I held my knees. If these things...these angels…really did exist, then maybe one of them stole the books and papers from my bedroom that night? But why? To keep their existence secret? Then my mind wandered to Kian. If he knew about these angels, perhaps he took the books and papers? Perhaps he
really
was trying to protect me?

I assembled a timeline in my head.

Tommy kisses Noe. Perhaps Clark confronts him? Tommy starts acting differently. He becomes reclusive; withdraws. Checks out books on angels. Sketches forms of angels into his notepad. He dies. Either way, I probably needed to stay away from Clark and anything remotely angel-like. I didn’t want to end up dead, too. But could I really trust Kian?

A shiver rushed up my spine at the thought.

The only people I really trusted at school had gone back to their homes yesterday. I wondered what Mol and Jen thought about all that had transpired on the rooftop. Krysta shook things up, and Kian and I might not have been as quiet as we thought. My friends weren’t stupid, and I hadn’t heard from either of them all day Sunday.

Closer

17-75-7.
I spun my lock combination and flipped open my locker. I had a spare maroon sweater hanging in there for unexpected cold days. In winter this worked well, but now with spring approaching, I decided better to take the sweater home. Tucking the wooly garment toward the back of the locker, I pulled out my assignment folder.

Journalism. I rubbed my fingers over the label and then over the Paramore stickers I had stuck there after the concert weeks ago. One of the best. So much had changed since then. All I had worried about then was bumping into Dameon, and where my friends and I would hang out over the weekend.

Now, Tommy’s death haunted me. Every time I saw Clark in the hallway I couldn’t be sure if I should apologize to him or accuse him. Kian seemed to know more than he let on, and I didn’t know whether his knowledge fell more toward the ‘who killed Tommy’ side or toward the ‘angels in the city’ side. Or both? And the more I mulled over the stalker and over Kian’s words of warning on that roof, the more I felt vulnerable.

I didn’t even know any more if I wanted to turn in my assignment to the Journalism teacher. How could I accuse Clark? Kian said a who, not a what, killed Tommy. And what would bringing attention to Tommy’s death do to the angels? If they somehow had been tied up in all of this, I didn’t want the cops to find out. I’m sure it would have been an accident.

“
Hey Ali!” A tap on my shoulder pulled me away from my reverie. Pulling a paint brush with crusty blue ends from her backpack, Molly bounced up and down as she spoke. “Guess who I saw earlier this morning?”

“
Who?” My face squished up as my shoulders rolled forward.

“
Kian.” Molly licked her lips as if his name should somehow make me swoon. “He was asking for you.” She winked.

“
Why?” I sounded defensive, as if I thought
he
could be the stalker.

“
Because he likes you, you Nimrod. You can’t tell me you’re so obtuse you didn’t notice.”

I had noticed, but I couldn’t be sure I cared. I mean, three months had passed, and Dameon was finally paying attention to me. The guy of my dreams. And I didn’t even know who Kian was. What kind of a guy jumps onto the roof of the school over the weekend? The kind that means trouble.

“
Well,” I shrugged, “tell him I’ll see him around.” I couldn’t sound more nonchalant.

“
I think he wants to look after you.” Molly wiped her nose with the back of her arm; the paint brush was still in her hand. “I think someone’s got an admirer.”

“
Whatever.” I rolled my eyes at Mol as Jennifer skirted around the corner and rushed up to us. Thick laced boots clogged all the way.

“
Ali...” Jennifer’s ringlets of red hair draped over her cheeks from under her pink knit hat. “So what did you two talk about on the roof?”

“
Who? When?” I kinda had an idea who and when, but I didn’t want her to think I cared. And I didn’t want to have to explain

“
Kian. On the roof Saturday. Duh! We heard you two talking all quiet-like. Something important, I bet.” Jennifer’s brows rose a few times. “Something to do with Clark? Tommy?”

“
It was nothing.” I reacted by turning away from her. Mistake.

“
Nothing? You know I was closer to Tommy than any of you. If anyone has a right to know, I do.”

“
I’m sorry.” I jerked back around to face her, unprepared to answer questions about everything.

“
Sorry?” Jennifer stomped her foot, and I swear I saw fumes escaping her nostrils. “What is Kian? Like your new best friend now? You can only share secrets with him? You know, I think I’m going to find somewhere else to sit at lunch today, because you’re really pissing me off.” Just like that Jennifer marched off into the hallway and turned the corner.

“
Do you think I’m being unfair?” I turned to Molly, and she had
that look
. That look that said hurt-and-betrayed, hidden under a veil of civility.

“
I...I really don’t want to get into the middle of this, but yeah. We’re your closest friends. Have been since...since forever. And you know if we ever knew anything we’d tell you. We don’t keep secrets.” Molly shrugged. “Give her time to cool off.”

Molly walked away from me and disappeared down the hall. The bell would surely ring soon. But I stood there. Without my two best friends in the whole world. Alone. Why couldn’t I tell them? Tell them what? That not a
who,
but a
what
may have killed Tommy, and that I may have seen angels outside my window at night...and oh, yeah, that I am in danger and Kian promised to look after me? And by the way, I didn’t even know if I could trust Kian. That would blow over well. I could barely believe it myself.

Just then Dameon bumped into me from behind. My NOOK fell to the floor. “Damn it.” I bent over to pick it up as Dameon reached for it first.

“
Sorry.” As he handed me the eReading device, his dark eyes mesmerized me. Didn’t matter how many times I saw them. “I’ll get you a new one if it’s broken.”

Flipping the NOOK over and back again, I examined it with my fingers. “No, I think it’s fine.” I blushed; I couldn’t believe he was talking with me again. I mean, he should. He caused my NOOK to hit the ground. All my notes were on there. But still, something happened to me every time I saw him. My knees locked, my hands got sweaty and words jumbled around in my dizzy head.

“
I’m glad. So, I couldn’t help but notice that Jennifer stomped off from you a bit perturbed. Aren’t you guys good friends?” He knew my friends! Maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I thought.

“
Ah, yeah.” I shook my head. “We kinda got into a bit of a fight.”

“
Sorry again.” His black leather jacket wrapped around him like skin around a cow. Frayed edges of black hair fell over his mysterious eyes. “Maybe you’ll have room at your table for me then?”

I stood silent, almost paralyzed. Did he just invite himself to join me for lunch? “Ah, um...yeah. Sure. I’ll make room for you.” Who wouldn’t?

“
Good, I’ll see you at lunch.”

In English class I occasionally glanced back to check out Dameon. I thought going to class would cause my nerves to unwind from all the memories of Tommy outside on the ground, but Dameon proved to be a helpful distraction. Wanting him preoccupied me.

Whenever I craned my neck around to see him he would smile; half of his lip would go up and the other half remained flat.

“
Allison, could you tell us?” Mrs. Engstrom loved to throw me a few curve balls every now and then.

“
Ah, what?” My lids widened as I turned my head to meet her concentrated eyes.

“
Who wrote Young Goodman Brown? Our reading assignment.”

“
Um...um...” I knew this one. I studied this. “Hawthorne?”

“
Are you asking me or telling me?”

“
Telling you, Mrs. Engstrom. Hawthorne.” I sounded more sure this time.