Heavenly (8 page)

outdo each other on the attention meter. I squeezed into a place on the street and searched the parking lot for Luke, on the off chance he was hanging there. I didn't see him. Why didn't he do what every normal teenager did? If he'd been at the Purple

Turtle I could have introduced him to my friends. I could have tried to help him see that there was a lot more out there than the dark alleys his friends hung out in.

I jogged to the door, passing some faces I recognized with a nod and a wave.

I found Britt sitting with Weston along with some of his guy friends. Britt waved me over. Awkward. I didn't want to

interrupt what was obviously the beginning of something for Britt, since she was eating lunch with Weston and his gang.

"Hey." Britt stood and hugged me. "Where've you been?"

"I was late. Abria."

Brady, one of Weston s pals scooted over so I could sit next to her. I debated staying. I wasn't in the mood for idle

chit-chat with Weston and his group. I wanted to get to the bottom of Matthias. But when would that happen? Abria was safe

at school. I sat anyway and Britt slid my salad toward me.

Britt leaned close enough so she wouldn't be overheard. "I was worried about you after the party."

So worried she hadn't texted me until this morning?
"Thanks for driving me home, by the way," I told her.

She cocked her head. "From the party? I didn't drive you home."

"You didn't?" My breath stalled in my chest. "Are you sure?"

Her eyes twinkled and she leaned close. "Positive. I was with Weston in his bedroom."

As shocked as I was that she and Weston had hooked up so fast, I was stunned to learn I'd gotten into my car and

driven myself home and not remembered one second of it. "Wow," I murmured.

"It was awesome," Britt whispered. She didn't get that I wasn't referring to her and Weston. "Did your parents find out you were wasted?" she asked.

"No." But it didn't help that most, if not all of these guys at the table had seen me smashed. No doubt some of them had witnessed me stumbling to the car. Why hadn't anybody stopped me? I could have killed myself.
Or someone else.
The reality sunk my appetite. I stirred my salad with disinterest.

"Well." Britt plucked a fry. "I'm glad you decided to join us for lunch. You've been too serious lately."

I shrugged. Britt, for all other fun, easy-going qualities, could never relate to the impossible life I led. She was all

about guys, looking good, and making it through each day scoring with those good looks.

"I had stuff to do." I wasn't ready to tell anybody about Matthias. I wasn't sure who he was, and I didn't want to sound like a lunatic, rambling about my sister's invisible buddy. I lowered my voice. "So you hooked up. Cool."

Britt glowed. "It was awesome. I'm way into him."

"From the looks of him, he's into you, too." I stole a peek at Weston, who could barely keep his eyes off Britt. The sparkle in both of their eyes spoke volumes of lust. A pang of longing erupted with joy inside of me. Would anyone ever look

at me that way?

"You missed that test in history," Britt said.

"Oh, no," I slapped my forehead. "Eff. I was ready, too. I'll have to go by and see if he'll let me make it up. How was Brinkerhoffs mood?"

"Seemed okay. I think I aced it, except for the essay about prohibition. Which means my essay is screwed."

I laughed. "Has Brinker however given you anything but As?" I made a mental note to look over everything I could

about prohibition so I was prepared to write a killer essay.

"No." She laughed. For the first time, her flippancy annoyed me. The fact that she could smile her way into a good

grade made her easy breezy, flip-my-blond-hair life seem like a walk on the beach. "Anyway, Weston is so hot," Britt lowered her voice. Her lashes batted Westonś direction. "That mouth. Mmm."

I glanced at Weston's mouth, moving in a slow circle as he chewed. Yep. He had a nice one. For some reason, I

thought of Matthias, of when he'd looked at my lips. A warm tingle slipped through my insides.

"You're smiling." Britt eyed me.

"I am?" Heat flushed my cheeks. "Yeah, but not about Weston."

"You don't think his lips are lush?"

"Yeah, I do. But I'm not looking at him like
that."

"Oh, I know," she said, as if he'd be more interested in the study of volcanic ash than me. "He likes blondes, anyway.

And you're way too intense for him."

That pinched. I swallowed and played with the chicken in my salad. "So you're dumbing down for him?"

Britt's smile vanished. "No, I am not. I don't do that."

"Sounds like it to me." Why was I being mean? Britt was the one person I could be myself with. She knew my highs

and lows, my heartaches and dreams. She knew how I felt about Abria. "Sorry," I said. "Just don't dumb down. He's not worth it. I don't care if he is Weston Larson."

"Easy for you to say." Her tone was sharp. "You've had—what—zero boyfriends this year?"

"Because I'm focusing on grades and my future, not on getting some with every guy who comes along."

Britt's eyes widened. "You've gotten around a lot more than I have, Zoe."

The truth cut deep. I couldn't sit there with Britt and those guys with my ego exposed. I slid the salad away, stood and

walked out of the place. Anger and humiliation prickled every hair on my body. Why had I walked out like that? I should

have stayed and verbally beaten Britt at her game. I'd been brittle inside for so long, I wasn't sure what held me together

anymore.

I stormed to my car, glancing around the lot one last time for Luke. Nothing. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I

plucked it out, hoping it was Britt. It was. Good, we can apologize and forget what just happened.

u owe me for the salad!

I shoved the phone deep in my pocket, got into the car and turned the engine. Rage soared through my system. I

pushed my foot down on the gas pedal, waited for a spot to open up and speared into traffic. Pressure built inside of me like water filling a balloon. I crammed my hand through my hair. I wanted to explode. At the same time, I yearned for the

comforting sureness I had felt when I was with Matthias.

I let out a snort. "Wish I had a Matthias of my own," I muttered, jealous of Abria for the first time in my life.

The temptation to go back to Abria's school and simply sit, wait and watch was strong. I wasn't an addict, but I'd

heard Luke talk about cravings. The gnaw inside of me was fierce. I couldn't miss anymore classes. I had to go to school. But that tranquil feeling... I tried to feel it, my soul searching for serenity, but I came up empty.

Disillusioned, disappointed, I drove to school and parked near the football field where no one parked, as far away

from the buildings as I could get, so I could cry my eyes out without being seen.

At that moment, I was ready to run as far away as I could without saying goodbye—take responsibility, family, and future,

and toss them out the window.

I dried the tears on my cheeks and caught sight of three guys sitting around the base of one of the goal posts. I would

have recognized Luke's mop of blonde hair in a crowd of a thousand. I got out and marched over.

They noticed me when I was halfway across the field. Two got up and made a beeline for the classrooms, tamping out

whatever they'd been smoking on the way. Luke stood, hands diving into the depths of his front pockets.

Sweet smoke gave away their vice, that and the glazed look in Lukeś eyes. "What are you doing? Smoking on school

property. Are you nuts? You could get arrested!"

"Quiet down."

"Oh, you're afraid of being caught but you choose to light up out where everyone can see you? You really are stupid,

you know that?"

He lowered his head, didn't say anything. The slump in his shoulders said more than words ever could. That pained

me. Why he gave in to stupidity when he'd been the brightest, happiest little boy was another painful mystery I yearned to

solve, just like the mystery of Abria and autism, the elusiveness of both the root of the helplessness I carried.

"Leave me alone." He started toward the building, head hung, shoulders caved. I had the fleeting wish I could tell him about Matthias. Share with him the calm peace I'd felt. But he'd think I'd just smoked a joint of my own.

I let out a sigh. I wasn't sure what to do, but the usual fury I carried inside when I caught him doing something

brainless had already vanished. Replacing the turbulent feelings was the need to make him feel better.

I caught up with him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you stupid. I've been on one today. Britt.. .Abria.. .stuff..."

"Yeah."

"I really didn't mean it," I said, wanting him to acknowledge my effort at apologizing.

"It's okay."

He'd always been quietly agreeable, but inside I knew I couldn't possibly bandage the wound my words had inflicted. "You want to go do something? We could skip class."

"I've already skipped this morning."

I laughed. "So did I. Maybe that isn't a great idea."

He looked over. "You never sluff."

"Yeah, well, I'm not as perfect as you think I am." I joked but he didn't smile. I was pretty sure he saw my faults as blatantly as I saw his.

We walked in silence into the closest building, the gulf between us frighteningly wide, deep and seemingly

impossible to cross. A gulf dug with years of differences in age, friends and choices.

Luke was no more than a stranger with my last name.

He walked
off
toward his class, his blond mop hanging, his jeans unapologetically haggard, riding as low as his self

image. I cringed when he didn't say goodbye. What was his next class? I didn't know.

With a sore heart, I headed for history.

Mr. Brinkerhoffs room was full with a class starting in a few minutes. I went to his desk and he looked up from the

papers he was shuffling through. "Yes Zoe?"

"Sorry I missed class today. I wondered if I could come after school and make up the test and essay."

"Sure. But be here on time, I only have an hour."

"It won't take me that long," I smiled, trying my own brand of charm.

He grinned. "No, it probably won't. See you after class."

I went out feeling momentary power. Britt wasn't the only one who could wrap a teacher around her finger. I wasn't a

teacher's pet by any means, but I was smarter than the average student behind the desk, and I had the respect of all my

teachers because, in spite of my partying mentality, I always made time to learn.

I headed for Journalism. Our next issue of the Gazette was already at the printer, so I snuck the time to study,

rereading the chapters in American History, and researching prohibition again so the wild period of history was fresh in my

mind for the essay.

Mr. Brinkerhoffs favorite pastime was to point out paradoxical stories in history. He was passionate about the fact that

twists of irony were the rebar that held earth and space in fair alignment. Maybe he didn't believe in a higher power, but the whole irony idea seemed kind of twisted to me.

I checked my cell phone for new texts. None. Britt and I usually never stayed mad at each other for more than a

couple of hours. But with Weston in her life now, I had no idea how long she'd be pissed at me.

With nothing in my life but my problems, the next few days looked unbearably long. But not so unbearable that I

wanted to be the first to apologize. I always apologized first. Today, I'd apologized to Luke. But then, I'd been the one to call him stupid. I cringed. Why did the nastiness I locked away in my heart sneak out when my tongue started to whip?

Inevitably, I hated myself afterwards.

I sat back and sighed. Other class members laughed and teased each other. A paper airplane flew over my head. I

envied the other students. The girls spent their free time taunting the boys, who flirted back. Chase Webster and I were the

lone wolves, always on the hunt for the next hot story.

Chase was an intellectual outcast. He had the whole Clark Kent thing going on with his glasses, khaki's and polo's. I

liked talking with him because he actually thought about things. I could see his brain working behind his round brown eyes.

Like now. He sat, tipped back in his metal chair, studying whatever it was he was looking at on the computer.

I wondered what he'd think of the whole Matthias thing. He happened to look over and I looked away.
How

embarrassing.
It's not like I liked him. I just happened to be looking at him and he happened to look over. Simple.

Chancing a second look, I caught him still watching me. I smiled, got up and went over. My direct approach took him

off guard. He looked up too fast, lost his teetering balance, and toppled backwards in the chair. The clattering brought all

noise in the room to a stand still. Then the class broke out in applause. I dropped down and reached out to help him. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

His face was red.

"Way to go. Chase," someone snickered.

Chase scrambled to his feet and set his chair upright. His glasses sat askew on his nose and he pushed them into place,

straightening his polo shirt. "I'm fine. Thanks. Hi."

"Hi." I pulled a chair closer and sat.

Wide-eyed, he stood staring at me, as if deciding whether or not I was really there. Seconds passed and he finally sat

down. "Can I help you?"

"Um." I glanced around, made sure everyone was back to their useless time wasting. "Maybe you can, actually."

"Sure. Okay"

"Do... do..." How to phrase this and not sound like I had one hen loose in the barn. "Do you believe in angels?"

Behind his spectacles, his big eyes blinked. "Well. Metaphysically or spiritually?"