The Halo Chronicles: The Guardian Read online

  Love. The word takes me by surprise because I’ve never thought about having those kinds of feelings for a guy. And yet, Gabriel would be so easy to love. Too easy.

  Pushing those uncomfortable thoughts away, I focus on what matters. Find Derry. Avoid the darkness until I am no longer a minor. Keep control of my life. Hastily I add, Do not fall in love.

  Gabriel intercepts me on the way to the locker room, easily matching my stride so we’re moving in sync. Still grinning mischievously, he pulls a lock of my hair free from its ponytail then tucks it slowly behind my ear. “I’m walking you home, Alex. So don’t disappear on me.”

  Forcing a chuckle, I wonder if it’s too much to wish that he’ll vanish—just leave as mysteriously as he appeared. Opening the door to one of the few places he can’t follow, I hastily retreat, grateful for a few moments to recover from being in his glow.

  By the time school’s out and we face the seven blocks, I’m full of questions. I’m convinced there’s more to him than his story. A lot more.

  “Do you really come from California?”

  He shrugs, slightly mocking himself. “I’m from the City of Angels. Isn’t it obvious?”

  I look him up and down pretending to consider this. “Well you certainly aren’t from around here.”

  Laughing, he gives his head a vigorous shake of agreement before asking, “Is it my turn now?”

  “Okay,” I focus on my new shoes, chocolate brown ones today, gliding over the pristine sidewalk as I nervously wonder what he’ll ask.

  “Tell me about your friends, before you moved here?”

  I do not make friends, but I don’t say this. Instead I tell him about Derry.

  “We were both twelve—living at The Children’s Center—a group home for kids who for one reason or another aren’t in foster care. It’s a pretty decent place. I didn’t want to be his friend, at first. But he couldn’t take a hint. Followed me everywhere, pleading with these big puppy dog eyes, talking incessantly about Star Wars. So scrawny and clueless that the other kids picked on him all the time.

  “He and I are like family—we don’t have anyone else—and I really miss him. I miss his mocking laugh and the way he calls me ‘Lexi’—familiar—as if we’re brother and sister. From the first moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he needed a protector.”

  “Where’s Derry now?”

  I sigh as my frustration pours forth. “I’ve no idea. He disappeared about a month ago. It happens in the system. Kids move around—too much. But we’re not actually related, so nobody will tell me anything.”

  “What about the people you live with now? Can’t they help?”

  “The Fosters?”

  Gabriel holds up a hand, indicating for me to pause. “Wait, they’re foster parents and their last name is Foster?”

  “Weird coincidence, right? Derry would find it hilarious. I was all prepared to dislike them but they’re really nice. Very good people.” Their bright halos align them with descriptions like trustworthy and honorable. Reluctantly, I admit, “They’re starting to win me over.”

  “If they’re as good as you claim they are, why don’t you ask them to help you?”

  I shrug, unable to format a safe answer easily. “I—uh—don’t want to burden them, I guess. And it’s private.”

  Nodding, he says softly, “I hope you find him.”

  “Thanks. I hope so, too.” I send out a short prayer to whoever might be listening for Derry’s safe return. Somewhat astonished, I realize we’ve already crossed Orchard Avenue. I glance behind me, but the residential street’s deserted. With the perpetrators long gone from the scene of their crimes, that place no longer has any hold over me.

  Turning back to Gabriel, I announce, “My turn again.”

  Raising his hands in surrender, he jokes, “Shoot.”

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “Well,” he draws the word out with extra emphasis on the end consonants. “It’s pretty basic really. My older sister goes to UCLA. Both my parents work and we just moved here from sunny California because of my mom’s new job.”

  “Your dad relocated for your mom?” My voice gets squeaky sometimes when I’m impressed. I hate it.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s pretty amazing of him.”

  Shrugging it off, Gabriel kicks a rock out of our way. “Well, we’re a progressive, modern family.”

  Envisioning it in my head, I see a tidy woman in a smart suit standing in front of an elegantly understated home. I imagine her having Sunday brunch with the husband and son who’ve sacrificed for her. As they eat, they trade sections of the paper and make leisurely small talk. Wanting to picture more, I ask, “What else?”

  “I dunno—what do you want to know?”

  I think for a split second. “Do you own a dog?”

  “No pets.” He explains, “I’m allergic.”

  “What’s your sister studying?”

  “Communications.”

  A black convertible overstuffed with laughing kids barrels down the street. Over-rated pop music blares as the driver swerves, narrowly missing a parked car. “Do you drive?”

  “I can drive—if that’s what you’re asking—but I don’t have my own car. That was part of the appeal of this neighborhood—for my parents, at least—just a short walk from school.”

  “What do you miss most about California?”

  Without hesitation he declares, “The ocean—surfing.”

  In my mind’s eye, I see him on a surfboard, the breeze ripping through his sandy hair as he rides turbulent cresting waves then comes home to collapse, smelling of sea and sunblock.

  Because I’m silent, imagining Gabriel as the golden surfer-boy, he asks, “Is it my turn?”

  “Yep.” Half a block until Kate and Steven’s. I find myself hoping I can get in one last turn before our time’s over. Irrational suspicions have been running on a loop in the back of my head and growing stronger with each coincidence. Though I’ve been doing my best to ignore them, I’ll get no rest without answers.

  “How do you really feel about the Fosters?” he asks.

  Without pausing to edit my reply, I blurt out, “I really like them. They’re both super nice and so generous. The only thing I can’t figure out is why they want me.”

  As Gabriel stops in front of the blue and white porch with the red door, his eyes turn sultry. “Give yourself some credit. The question that leaps to my mind is why wouldn’t anyone want you?”

  Butterflies, goose bumps and red cheeks—my body explodes with the works so that I’m torn between hiding my embarrassment by escaping and asking the question that’s been on my mind most of the walk home. My need for answers narrowly wins. “One last question before you go?”

  “For you? Anything.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  His eyebrows lift. “Doing what?”

  “This,” I sweep my hand to indicate the two of us, my backpack he’s still shouldering, the seven blocks he’s walked with me three times now, and the house with the pretty porch that signals the end of our time together. “Why me?”

  Rolling his eyes at me, he chuckles. “I thought it was kind of obvious.”

  There’s so much more I know he’s not saying. “But how did you know?”

  “How’d I know what?”

  I want to ask, How’d you know I was in trouble? How’d you know to shield me from Jonah? How’d you know I need protecting from Mr. Creepy? How do you know I’m tired of running?

  Gabriel’s face is blank. Suddenly I think it must be some huge, cosmic coincidence I’ve over-interpreted, so I stammer, “—that I needed a friend.”

  His eyebrows furrow, meeting in the middle of his face as he tips his head to the side, asking, “Is that what you need?”

  The warmth has faded from his eyes, replaced by a cool, savage scrutiny. He’s waiting for me to respond, and while my mind’s whirling with commentary, I can’t think of an appropriate reply.

 
; He sighs, a soft huff of aggravation. “I’ll see you in the morning, Alexia.” Then he turns and walks away while I watch—my mind reeling with things I could’ve done and said differently. Better.

  From that day on he calls me Alex, except when we’re alone. Then I’m Alexia. And I’ve no clue whether it’s a good thing, or not.

  *

  The next day Gabriel has two packages of Oreos for lunch, but rather than give me one of them, we share both. Naomi and Kendra don’t sit with us, which is just fine by me. Naomi does, unfortunately for her, make a big production of locking lips with a football player in Gabriel’s line of sight. After the show, I can’t help but agree with the bathroom graffiti.

  In English, Jonah’s sitting in the fourth row on the left. When we enter, he gestures to us with his head. Gabriel slips me into the end seat of the third row. Before taking the seat at my side, he nods his thanks to the inky haired boy behind us.

  Under his breath, he asks, “Will this work for you Alex?” His eyes dart quickly to Jonah before settling on my face with concern. Again I suspect he knows more than he’s saying, but nagging self-doubt undermines my conviction.

  With a covert glance at Jonah, I shake my head slowly up then down. “I think so.”

  And I mean it. Despite the darkness that ebbs and flows around him, Jonah hardly bothers me anymore. Briefly, I wonder how much of that is due to Gabriel’s calming presence.

  My thoughts, however, derail as Becke Finch enters the classroom. She hovers just inside the door, torn over where she should sit. I watch her glance longingly toward the back of the room—clearly she’s not comfortable in the front row. But the pursing of her lips indicates she doesn’t want to disappoint Mr. Abernathy, either.

  Since our teacher hasn’t yet arrived, I quietly wave Becke over. She approaches cautiously, and despite the indecision in her eyes returns my smile with a small one of her own. “Why don’t you sit by us today?” I ask.

  To my amazement, Jonah pats the seat directly behind me, ordering, “Park it right here, Finch.” Sounding almost happy, his halo lightens to a thin shade of gray, like morning mist.

  Becke, appearing grateful to have the decision taken out of her hands, nods and whispers shyly, “Thanks guys.”

  Jonah ducks his head as she slips past him, two little red spots coloring his cheeks. My eyes flicker from him to her and back again as I start to suspect something. Before the idea has time to germinate, Jonah and Gabriel straighten in their seats. Every nerve ending in my body becomes alert as I watch their muscles coil in rigid anticipation.

  My stomach cramps and I reach for Gabriel before daring to look around. Behind my right elbow, Jonah has pulled himself up to his full height. He’s scowling toward the door, his gangly body defiantly angled to shield Becke, who smiles at our teacher obliviously.

  Gabriel grips my hand. The pain is primal, reassuring.

  Mr. Creepy surveys the room, his features pinching slightly as he notices our tight little group. Before my eyes, his halo darkens two shades into the color of newly poured pavement. It swirls around him in agitation. Although his cold, flat eyes hold no hint of malice as he crosses to his desk and begins his lesson, my stomach plummets like I’ve just stepped off a cliff.

  When class is over, he dismisses us without as much as a glance. But his halo never lightens. And I can’t help thinking this can’t be good for any of us.

  The next few weeks, however, pass uneventfully as I walk my seven long blocks with Gabriel, who’s become a physical barrier between me and the darkness. And while I should be comforted, his mere presence keeps me off balance. I am increasingly unsettled by this boy who relentlessly asks for my confidence when he is unwilling to divulge his own secrets.

  Even more surreal is that our group has expanded to four. Whenever possible, Jonah and Becke sit with us—even at lunch—and I’m growing accustomed to the central role they now play in my bizarre world.

  This worries me.

  At night, I lay awake worrying I’ll lose my self-reliance by depending more and more on the beautiful boy constantly at my side. I worry about what will happen when I inevitably move on? What will happen to them? And to me? And I worry all the time about Derry.

  Most of all, I agonize over the inevitable darkness that will certainly come. How do I protect my foster family and new friends from evil? As certain as a moth is drawn to a flame, dark ones will continue to fixate on me. And I am helpless to stop it. The only thing I know to do is run—and pray that the darkness follows. Is that enough to save them?

  The idea of starting over is terrifying—almost as paralyzing as the thought of never finding Derry—but it’s my only option. No one’s safe with me around. Not even Gabriel. Eventually the darkness will return, seeking me and destroying anyone who stands in the way.

  I just hope when the time comes, I still have the strength to leave.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Oh, Alex. You look divine! Like an angel.”

  I’m humoring Kate. Somehow, she found out about the Midlands High homecoming dance and has it in her head I need a new dress for the occasion.

  I don’t.

  Even though I’ve explained I have no intention of going, she thinks maybe shopping will change my mind. It won’t. But I can’t tell her this because I’m afraid it will make her sad. A group of us—the group being Becke, Jonah, Gabriel and me—will be going to the movies instead of the school-sanctioned celebration. Not a double date or anything, just hanging out.

  I still haven’t told Kate about Gabriel or the others, though I’m not sure why, exactly. It just hasn’t come up. I did, however, mention I have alternate plans the night of the dance. Still, when she begged me to “just look,” I couldn’t say no.

  Although the Fosters have no children of their own, they did once—a little boy with freckles, red hair and Kate’s big, brown eyes. He died somehow. That’s why her eyes are so sad sometimes. And why I can’t refuse her when I gaze into them.

  They haven’t told me about him. I only know because there are a few professional pictures around their house. One picture of a baby, a laughing toddler portrait, a slightly younger looking Kate and Steven posed with a smiling, dimpled boy of eight. Then the pictures stop, like an edited filmstrip. Fast forward several years to an older, more mature couple with an empty home. And while they put up a good front most of the time, to me at least, it’s clear something is missing.

  In my observation, Kate seems a fragile thing and I worry it won’t take much to crack her sunny, eggshell exterior. If she were to break, would the well of grief she guards rise up to drown her spirit? It’s a chance I’m not willing to take, so I change into a deep pink gown with annoying little sparkly things that sway noisily when I walk.

  Rattling my way out of the dressing room, her face abruptly falls. “You hate it, don’t you?”

  Shrugging, I try to pretend to like it, because of those sad eyes. But I’m a lousy actress. Brightly Kate rubs her hands together. “Take it off and I’ll get the next bunch.”

  With a nod I retreat back into the safety of the dressing room, catching my reflection in the full length mirror. My image doesn’t even glow. I’ve never been able to see my own halo—maybe I don’t have one. Why am I cursed with this ability? Why am I such a freak?

  Try as I might, I can’t find anything “divine” in my appearance. At best I appear to be a girl playing dress up—a poor substitute for the kind of girl the gown was designed for. A girl like Alexia.

  I barely manage to slip the garment off before Kate returns. “Here, try these.”

  Over the top of the door, a barrage of colors and textures slide into my waiting arms. Dutifully I hang the dresses on a nearby hook, wincing at the festive fuchsia, teal, and lime. I pick up a Caribbean-blue gown, the color of Gabriel’s eyes, and hastily discard it. That relationship is confusing enough without sporting the azure dress as a reminder.

  For weeks, he’s been my escort and protector, bewildering me with his l
uminous eyes and cryptic comments. His barely-there touches imprinting my skin the way his very presence has imprinted my life. But his secrets have become mountains between us. He won’t tell me why he’s assumed such a pivotal role in my life. Or what he wants from me.

  I’ve rejected the idea he’s doing this merely because he’s a good person—no one is that good. But even if he were the exception, one of those rare creatures that are better than the rest, he’s got to have flaws. He is human, after all. And even if he was some selfless saint, there are so many kids that have it worse off than I do. I’ve seen their waning halos, the outward extensions of their pain, flickering as if gasping for breath in the midst of drowning. Those kids need a protector. I can take care of myself.

  So why me?

  “Ready?” Kate’s voice brings me back to earth as I hastily shimmy into the first thing I pick up, a moss-colored gown with yards of skirting.

  As I burst from the dressing room, Kate tries to contain her enthusiasm, probably for my benefit. “Well,” she asks. “What do you think?”

  The best I can do is shrug. Puzzling over Gabriel has taken away any pretense of enjoyment.

  Kate’s pixie-like features narrow as she regards me, no longer focused on the dress. “You know, Alex,” she begins hesitantly. “You can talk to me about anything.”

  I stare down at my bare toes, peeking beneath the curtain of subdued green. “I know.”

  “Or tell me anything…”

  I hate it when someone places unclear expectations on me. I know she’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what she wants to hear. “Not much to tell—I don’t have any family—moved around a lot. I don’t make friends easily and I don’t open up to people, not even the good ones.”

  Kate sighs. “You’re telling me stuff I already know.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Why don’t you tell me about that boy who walks you to and from school every day?”

  Shocked, I stare at her briefly before squeezing my eyes shut in mortification. The waiting silence causes me to peek from one eye. “You know about him?”