The Guardian (19 page)

A teasing smile plays at his lips.
“A secret, huh?
Well, if you think you’ve spent enough time saying goodbye you can go back inside and I’ll just plan to meet you in your ro
om. Unless, you know, you’re done with me.”

“I’m never done with you.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear, a peculiar expression crossing his face. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” he murmurs.

His touch sends flutters through my s
tomach, and I fight against the urge to lean in and kiss him.

“Well, Genesis, it was fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Good night.”

“Night,” I reply. I head back down the walkway, stealing a quick glance as Seth strides gracefully away,
watching until he disappears from sight.

T
WENTY-ONE

I wake up just before my alarm clock is set to ring. Sunlight seeps through the cheap beige blinds that cover the window. I roll over and find myself gazing at the white rose, which appears jus
t as perfect as it had the day before. I smile when I see it, and kick off the sheets with a renewed sense of . . .
being
.

I dress, run a brush through my hair, add some eyeliner and mascara, and waltz happily into the living room. Mom appears to have slep
t on the couch again. An afghan is crumpled on the cushion, pillow propped against the edge. She’s in the kitchen now, warming a mug of water in the microwave for a cup of instant coffee.

“I’m heading out,” I call, swinging my backpack over my shoulder.

“
Genesis?”

I stop in the middle of the room, hesitating before I answer.
“Yeah?”

“Come here for a second.”

I force my breathing to even as I enter the kitchen.

This can’t be good
.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, really.
I didn’
t get a chance to see you before you went to bed. When I checked, you were already asleep.” She drops her instant coffee packet into the mug.
The water steams just above the rim.

“I was kind of tired,” I say. I try to tuck my hair behind my ears, just to d
o something with my hands, until I realize it’s already tucked. “And you were kind of busy.”

“
Mmm
,” she says. Something inside me knows this isn’t exactly why she summoned, so I wait for her to continue.

“About this guy you’re seeing . . .”

Are Seth and I
seeing each other?
Is that even possible? I mean, inter-
realmal
dating?
“Seth,” I remind her. I glance around the room, realizing that it’s quite possible—probable, even—that he’s hovering nearby, and can hear everything Mom is about to say. I hope this is
n’t going to be one of
those
conversations.

“How did you meet again?”

“Um, school.
Sort of.
He went to my school, but he’s already graduated. He has some friends there, so he hangs around a lot.”

“And you just ran into each other?”

“Yeah.”

“How does Carte
r feel about this?”

I don’t think Carter knows about this
.

“Um, he’s fine with it, I guess.”

“Really?
I know you’ve had your differences since the accident, but I thought the two of you were still kind of a thing.”

I force my eyes not to roll. “No. Actual
ly, though, I really need to get to school.”

She checks her wristwatch. “You’re early. I just want to chat for a minute.” She turns to me, coffee mug cupped in her hand, eyes probing. “I feel like we haven’t had a chance to talk lately.”

“You’ve been busy.
”

“Mike. I get it. But communication is a two-way street, right?”

“I’ve been busy, too,” I admit.

She sighs, and sets her mug on the counter. I stifle a groan.

Here it comes
.

“I just think it may be too soon for you to get serious with a new boy.”

“Seth a
nd I aren’t serious,” I tell her. “It’s just . . . complicated.” I swallow the sarcastic laugh poised at the back of my throat. That’s the understatement of the year. The boy doesn’t even exist on my plane of reality. He’s a supernatural playboy.
My guardi
an angel.
Saying things are complicated is me being generous.

“He seems a little old for you,” she says.

“Mom, he’s only a year or two older.”

“He doesn’t look like he’s in high school.”

“Because he’s not.
I mean, he graduated.” The lies spew faster and
faster.

“He seems
a lot
older than you. You know you have to be careful with these older guys, Genesis. They want different things.”

I let my eyes roll dramatically. “Mom, trust me. Seth is like, the safest boyfriend imaginable. If you even knew . . .”
w
ho he is
, I want to add. I clear my throat, stopping myself. “If you knew him, you’d understand.”

“I’m sure he’s a good guy,” she replies. “But you never really know what people are like deep down. I thought I taught you about this.”

I scoff.
“Yeah,
because you’re a great judge of character.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes grow wider. She folds her arms in defense and leans back into the cabinet.

“It’s just that I’ve seen the guys you bring around,” I explain. “And I don’t think you’re the b
est person to lecture someone about this.”

“I am, because I’ve lived it.”

“You’re living it now,” I say, throwing out a tiny laugh.
“Again.
It’s the same cycle over and over. What’s going to happen this time, Mom? What happens when Mike isn’t ‘The One’ any
more? Are we
gonna
pack our bags? Sell all our shit? Move again?
For the
hundredth
time?”

“This isn’t about Mike, or my relationships. This is about you seeing a boy that I don’t think I approve of.”

“You don’t even
know
him,” I point out.

“I don’t have to
know him. I have my instincts. You’re just a child.”

“Are you
serious
?” I hiss, my voice rising. “I’m a child? You think I’m a
child
? Well then why haven’t you ever treated me like one? My entire life has revolved around you. Do you even know what moving
from city to city has
done
to me? How hard it is for me to make friends? How lonely I was? How lonely I
am
?”

“You have a great life here,” she interrupts.

My jaw tightens. “I am in a math class with people who are two years younger than I am because I can’
t keep up. I can’t keep up because not only am I forced to go to school for eight hours a day, but I have to work. I work. I have a job.
And not a job that I want . . . but a job that I
need
.
A job that I need to have because you don’t make enough money to
pay the bills.
I’ve had some kind of job since I was twelve years old. My job paid for our groceries, or, or for the water bills. And what happened when we didn’t have enough money? Our power was shut off. We didn’t have anything to eat. And somehow it’s
my
fault . . .”

Mom holds up her hand, motioning for me to stop. “Don’t even. You’re overreacting.”

I dig my heels further into the linoleum. “Are you kidding? You have no right to brush me off! What happened when the power was shut off, Mom?” I don’t wait
for her to answer. “I’ll tell you what happened. When I was old enough I had to work it out. I had to start negotiating. Making excuse after excuse!
For
you
!”

“We don’t have the kinds of opportunities that other people have, Genesis. It’s just us!”

“You’
ve never even tried to find other opportunities! Every time something got too hard you just picked up and ran away! You left unpaid water bills, and our stuff. . . .” Salty tears sting my eyes, threatening to spill over. A hard lump wedges itself in my thr
oat. “It didn’t matter the reason. Whether you quit your job or were fired, or you’d just broken up with the boyfriend of the month, or we couldn’t pay the rent anymore. . . . It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the school year. You ran away and you d
ragged me with you! So don’t stand there and tell me that I’m a child, because I’m
not
a child. I have
never
been a child!”

I storm out of the kitchen, cheeks on fire and heart racing. The screen door crashes shut behind me. The nerve! The absolute nerve!
Telling me that she doesn’t think I should be hanging out with Seth? When is she ever around to care? And I do more than she ever did! I go to school
and
I work. I work my butt off and then hand my paychecks and tip money over to her so she can pay bills.
A
child
does not do that. I’m just as much of an adult as she is. Even more so, because I can at least
tell
when I have a good guy. . . .

I unhook my bike from the railing and climb on.

“I don’t want to see him here again!” My mom shouts from the porch
as I pedal away.

T
WENTY-TWO

Whatever extra time I gained by waking up early was lost during the confrontation with my mother. I pick up speed, thoughts spinning madly, racing down the street. The humidity is already high, and by the time I reach
the parking lot of the school, sweat prickles at my skin.

I can only think of Seth. What he heard. What I feel.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and hope that he hears.

“Genesis?”

I spin around. Selena jogs to catch up with me, bag slung over her shoulder, face
still bruised from the airbag deployment from her accident the week before, despite what appears to be a careful application of
concealer
.

“Can we talk?” she asks, eyes imploring.

Behind us, the warning bell echoes through the sterile halls.

Outside scho
ol, the 8am to 3pm world seems strange . . . foreign, somehow. The sun shines brighter, and traffic isn’t nearly as heavy.

Like Carter after his accident, Selena drives more cautiously. I hold onto the bar above my head, anyway. The wrinkled, paper dealers
hip mats are still on the floor at my feet. There isn’t a scratch or a fleck of dust in sight. There are less than fifty miles on the car itself. It smells like leather and plastic. Rich people don’t waste a second in replacing their wrecked vehicles.

“Nic
e ride,” I mumble.

Her hands tense around the steering wheel. The only sound comes from the motor as she speeds up between stoplights. The radio isn’t even playing. It’s like she needs full concentration. One minor distraction and she’ll lose control.

“Th
anks,” she replies.

The rest of the drive is quiet. She finally pulls over and parks in a public beach access parking lot. She cracks the windows, locks the doors, and shuts off the engine. The sound of waves reverberates in the distance—an endless, relax
ing loop. A balmy breeze passes through the cab. She leans back in her seat and sighs.

We remain there for a few moments, motionless, quiet.

“I can’t read your mind,” I finally say. “So you’re going to have to tell me why you dragged me to the beach when
we’re supposed to be in first period.”

“That’s funny,” she replies. “Because I was thinking
you
might be able to tell
me
.”

My jaw tightens. It’s not that I didn’t expect this conversation. I knew that, once she returned to school, Selena was going to wan
t answers. I knew she would come looking for me, seek me out. I debated what I was going to say to her, even, playing out different conversations and scenarios in my head. I knew that if I didn’t tell her, she would never let it go. I knew that, more than
likely, she wouldn’t understand the truth. I was jammed into a corner, and there was no safe way out. No matter what I did, there was no guarantee that I would ever be able to turn things back to the way they were before, or that my secret would stay safe.