To Light and Guard (2 page)

CHAPTER 3

As expected, I was late to first period. I was shaking, anxious, and armed only with a book bag with no books.
As if my grades weren’t bad enough. 

As quietly as I can, I
sat in the back row as my English teacher, Mrs. Bailey, paced back and forth in front of the classroom.  She glanced at me briefly and continued her lecture. It was about Hamlet, I think. It was a continuation of her last lecture from yesterday.  She was talking about the characters as if they were all good friends, and maybe they were.  Yes.  She’s about that old.

“
Horatio, Fortinbras, and Claudius… Can anyone tell me what these three characters have in common?”

No one raised their hand, and Mrs. Bailey answered her own question. 
That happens a lot in this class.

I looked right at M
rs. Bailey.  I heard her high pitched voice and the soft clicking of her shoes.  Even as I stared at her and pretended to be intrigued by her lecture, I tuned her out.  It wasn’t very hard since I had no idea what she was talking about.  Coming in late to class kind of had that effect on me, and maybe I've had a bit of practice with the tuning out part.

Yadda, yadda, yadda, and then, more yadda. 
Seriously. That's what I heard as my mind processed more important stuff.

I thought about my purple-eyed delusion, and I was lost.  
What the heck was I going to do?
  Maybe he’ll just go away. 
Did I want him to go away?  Really?
   He was my delusion, after all.  He must be here for a reason.
Right.
That would be to make me insane.  Okay. I mean a reason other than that.

It
was a month ago when I started to hear his voice.   It didn’t happen often, but it was definitely there.   I should have told someone - Mom and Dad, maybe.  They would have known what to do because the strange voice in my head is definitely not normal.  It was interesting, but not normal… but what was the harm, really?  It wasn’t like the voice was telling me to kill myself, and somehow, I instinctively knew that he didn’t want me to tell anyone.  It was our little secret. 

Did my mind make him up?  
I tried to be positive.  Maybe he was a ghost, or a time-traveler from the future, or maybe he was a real super hero with real super powers like the invisible man.  He was so unbelievably handsome that he would make an awesome leading man in a SciFi original TV show.  I didn’t see his teeth, but I’m sure he would have been a perfect vampire. I shook my head.  I can’t believe I’m casting him in an imaginary TV show.
Shake it off, Paige.  Shake it off.

While sitting in class,
with Mrs. Bailey’s monotone voice drifting in the background, it was at that moment that I realized that I could possibly be… well, crazy.  Oh, sure, the thought crossed my mind now and then, but actually believing it was something else entirely.  It was something very scary.

Then, I thought of my grandmother
and her strange talks.   We didn't see her much since she moved to New Mexico a few years back.  She said that the energy was much stronger over there.  It had to do with the earth’s vibrations or something, but that's not the strange part.  When I do see her, she would sometimes imply that she was a witch, and she was very proud of it, too.  “You come from a long line of very powerful witches," she would say or, "Witch power is passed down to future generations." 

My parents always humored her, and we
never really talked about Grandma’s crazy talks, but now, I wonder.  If by being a ‘witch’, she really meant being schizophrenic, and by saying that I come from a ‘long line of very powerful witches’, she really meant that being schizophrenic is in my DNA somehow.  Not a good thought, and I’m freaking the hell out.      

“Paige, what do you think?” Mrs. Bailey asked, and the sound of my name snapped me back to reality.  I was here.  It was now.  In class… and Mrs. Bailey had just asked me a question.  She was picking on me because I was late.  She was looking at me.  Actually, I think the entire class was looking at me, and they were all waiting for an answer.  This is my worst nightmare.

“That is a very interesting question, Mrs. Bailey,” I said, stalling, but since I didn’t know the question, I really didn’t know how to answer her.  So, I said nothing and looked down.  I bit my lower lip and silently prayed for her to move on to her next victim I mean, student.  Move on to the next student.
Please.
  I slouched in my seat. Unfortunately, I didn’t even have books to cower under.

Someone
seated in the front row snickered. After a very long silence, Mrs. Bailey started her lecture again, and I started breathing again.  No doubt about it.  I’m ending up in summer school for sure. 
Crap!

***

As soon as class was over and the b
ell rang, I was out of my chair.  I headed straight towards my locker.  This time around, there was no purple-eyed delusion standing there.  In his place was Colin Stroud, our football team’s pride and joy, in his daily winter uniform: blue jeans and a letterman jacket over our school’s pre-approved polo shirt with the embroidered logo. (We’re in private school.  The logo is very important.)  I was wearing a similar polo shirt under my white, school-approved sweater and blue skinny jeans.  

I held my
left hand up in a universal Vulcan greeting, with my four fingers split in the shape of the letter V. Colin jerked his head up in a quick chin lift. Yeah, he was cool like that.

"Hey Harper," he said
as he fiddled with the lock on
my
locker and opened it.   I didn’t really quite know how he knew my locker combination, but he’s been doing that a lot lately. He took out the two text books that I needed, and our phones beeped almost simultaneously.  I took my phone out from my messenger bag and read the text out loud. 

"Parents out
.  Party at Morgan's on Saturday at 8:00 p.m. Be there." 

I placed my phone in my back pocket.

“You going?” Colin asked.

“
Nah," I said.  "I'm busy."  Actually, I wasn’t, but although I liked Morgan, parties were not my scene.  I only go to parties if Emma drags me to one when she needs a sober driver. Besides, I think there is a Battlestar Galactica marathon on Saturday.  “Colin, I really gotta go. Let’s talk later, okay?”  

I
closed my locker and reached for my books in his hand.  He quickly pulled his hand away along with my books.  He started walking backwards with a big smile on his face.  “Come on, you can’t be late to second period.” 

“No.  Trust me.
I really can’t,” I grumbled, and I started walking next to him.  “You’re kind of like a stalker, you know that?”

Colin
laughed. That’s why Colin and I are great friends. He never got offended.

As we walked in the hallway, my eyes quickly scanned the crowd for my handsome
, imaginary guy with deep purple eyes.  I gritted my teeth when I saw Delia Bates instead; she was Colin’s very blonde, very perky, and very cheerleaderee ex-girlfriend.  She was quickly approaching with an exaggerated bounce in her step. 
Question:
 
How was it possible that I would run into Delia at least three times a day? I didn’t even have any classes with her this semester. What’s up with that?

“Hello,” Delia said
.  She glanced at me briefly, her eyes glaring at me discretely, and gave me
the
look.  You know
the
look.  It was
the look
that pretty much said stay away from my boyfriend.  I’m a bit confused by this because Delia and Colin broke up months ago, so I didn’t really understand why she was looking at me like that with her nose stuck way up in the air.  Besides, Colin and I were just friends. Just friends.
Did you get that?
Maybe I should type it up in a memo and pass it around, or I could just text everyone.

Looking at Delia
, I couldn’t miss the very heavy, black eyeliner and black mascara covering her eyes.  Other than the heavy make-up problem, which severely clashed with her light blonde hair, Delia was actually very pretty. 

Because of good manners, I automatically plastered a smile on my face, but before I could say hello back, she was already chatting it up with
Colin. I was already dismissed.  Dissed.  Ouch.

Delia touched
Colin’s arm, flinging her hair from side to side.  Sw
oosh.  Swoosh.
She was like an ad for a shampoo commercial, and I was forced to watch them from the side. From my angle though, I thought that they did look good together - football Ken with cheerleader Barbie.  Looks, however, with or without a thick dose of eye makeup, can often be deceiving, and Colin was way too good of a human being for a plastic doll. 

Maybe Delia was the real reason I was seeing a delusion now
; he was like a fake boyfriend to chase her off.  At least she’s never said anything mean to me directly, but I have Emma to thank for that.  With Emma being in varsity cheer with her, I’m pretty sure they have some sort of code to leave the not so popular siblings of fellow cheerleaders alone.  It must be in their handbook.

I glanced at my watch and
silently groaned. I seem to do that a lot lately – groaning.  I really needed to get to class.  I almost stomped my feet, but being in high school instead of pre-school, I stopped myself.  Since Colin was distracted, I quickly pulled my books from under his arm and placed them inside my messenger bag.  I started walking away.

“
Hey Harper," Colin called out as I walked away, "I’ll see you later.”

Looking at him over
one shoulder, I lifted my hand up in my usual Vulcan hand gesture, and I made my way to my next class. 

              As I walked, I pulled out my phone from my back pocket.  I read Morgan’s party text again and two more texts about it that just came in. I already decided that I wasn't going. 
Delete, delete, delete
. I have better things to save than junk text messages… like money, my grades, or better yet, my sanity.  Yes, that's it.  I need to save my sanity.  That should keep me very, very busy. 

CHAPTER 4

              Emma gave me the silent treatment as I drove home from school, and I let her. When we finally made it back home, I parked my car next to Dad’s new Mercedes on the driveway.  Mom and Dad worked together, and they always carpooled.  Today, they must have taken Mom’s SUV to work.

As soon as we entered the house, Emma slammed the front door and finally let her anger out.  “I don’t like being late to school, Paige.  Bad things happen when I’m late. I’m telling Mom that I want her taking me to school instead of you.  You are so getting in trouble for this, and you are going to burn.  BURN,” she yelled. 

I cringed.  The deal was that I get
a brand new car for my birthday if I drive my sister to school and back.   I can’t have Emma complaining about my car duties when I just got my car. Emma ran up the stairs, and I heard her bedroom door slam.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly to no one, and I really was.  Sorry for making us both late to school this
morning, sorry for seeing a delusion, and sorry for a few other things I can't remember just now.

Dejected, I walked slowly into the house and closed the front door, locking it.  My
small dog, Buffy, jumped up and down in front of me and greeted me with the enthusiasm of a dog who hasn’t seen me in seven hours.  At least, someone is still happy to see me today.    

I patted
Buffy’s tan head while she wiggled her stubby, little tail.  Her wiry hair, neither short nor long, somehow managed to stick out in every direction. I smiled at her.  Buffy was ugly in every sense of the word, but she was always beautiful in her loyalty and friendship.  She was a mixed breed, but if I squint my eyes a bit, she almost looks like the Taco Bell Chihuahua.

“Let’s ge
t you something to eat, shall we?” I dropped my messenger bag on the floor and walked to the kitchen. Buffy definitely deserved a special treat for being my only friend today. 

After giving Buffy some food, I parked myself on the living room couch and watched TV.  I knew I should be do
ing my homework, but I had a really stressful day.  I deserved some down time. 
What the heck?
I’m young.  Homework can wait.

***

At
five-thirty p.m., I was still sitting on the couch, eating a cookie, and watching TV - Star Wars, Episode Four, which was technically the first one. I let it carry me in a galaxy far, far away.  Let’s face it. That’s where all of the really good stuff happens.

I picked up my feet and rested it comfortably on the coffee table.  My eyes were glued to the TV as if I’ve never seen the movie before.  Of course, I’ve seen it at least a dozen times. 
Who hasn’t?
 

I
stuffed the last bite of my ooey, gooey chocolate chip cookie inside my mouth. 
De-li-cious.
 

Emma was
still in her room, my dog Buffy was in the backyard, and Mom and Dad weren’t home yet.  I was alone… or so I thought. 

Like a scene from a horror movie, the one with the girl watching TV who was minding her own business while a psycho-killer was standing somewhere behind her, I felt a presence standing next to the couch. 

Still chewing my cookie
, I slowly glanced over my left shoulder, hoping that no one would be there, and I saw him - my purple eyed delusion - standing around in my living room as if he was supposed to be there.  He was wearing his long black coat again, looking handsome, and… watching TV?   My cookie went down the wrong pipe, and I started choking.

H
is head turned towards me, and he tilted his head to one side as he watched me choke. I held on to my throat as I coughed several times.  Then, I ran away from him, screaming.

“
EMMA!” I screamed. “EMMM-MA!”  I ran up the stairs two at a time.  Before I got there, Emma jerked her bedroom door open.

“What
’s wrong?” she asked with a surprised look on her face. 

“We’re leaving
,” I said, breathing hard.  “Right now!” But I couldn’t remember where I put my keys.  It should be downstairs somewhere: on the kitchen counter, on the coffee table, in my bag… I’m not sure where exactly, but I know it’s somewhere. 
Why am I so unorganized?  Aaaargh!!!

I ran
passed Emma and went inside Mom and Dad’s bedroom.  Immediately, I spotted Dad’s keys on the dresser.  I knew there was a reason why Dad was so organized.  It made everything easy when it became one of those days when I needed a quick get-away car.  I snatched it off the dresser. 
Thank you, Daddy.

I ran
back down the hallway and grabbed Emma’s hand as I passed her, pulling her with me.  We went down the stairs and headed towards the front door… fast. Our parents weren’t home, so I was in charge. 
I was older.  I’m the boss.  No questions asked.
 

“What’s wrong?”
Emma asked. I don’t usually scream like a crazy person, and Emma must have felt very uncomfortable with the tinge of madness in my voice. 

“
Explain later.  Need to go.”  I tugged her hand.  I wasn’t leaving her here with a stranger.  House rule number one: I need to protect my younger sister. 
From what?
I didn’t know yet, but delusion or not, there was a stranger in our house, and it wasn’t safe.

             
I ran out of the front door, pulling Emma behind me.  I didn’t even dare glance at the living room and look for
my
handsome psycho.
My handsome psycho?
 
When did he become mine?
No time to think about it right now; I’m putting a pin on that thought and saving it for later. I had to get out of here.

I heard the door slam behind us
.  I didn’t bother with locking the front door.  What was the point of locking the door when the stranger you are running away from was already inside the house? 
Right.  No point at all.

I
ran towards Dad’s shiny, black Mercedes on the driveway.  I let go of Emma’s hand and motioned for her to get in the car in a jerky, not so graceful manner. 
If my ballet teacher could see me now…

“You
’re driving Dad’s new car?” Emma asked, frowning. 

Duh,
my mind said silently, and she was the smart one.  I motioned for her to get in again while giving her the stern listen-to-your-older-sister look.  Apparently, that look doesn’t work very well.  I’ll have to work on it, but again, not right now.

“
Dad is
sooo
going to kill you,” Emma threatened, and she was dragging her feet, not wanting to be a part of what we already knew was a very bad idea.

             
“GET IN THE CAR!” I yelled as I got in.  Immediately, I felt horrible for yelling at her. I never used that tone of voice - not with anyone.  This was a day of firsts for me, and I didn’t have time to explain.  I didn’t have the keys to my Prius, and Dad’s car was the only other car available. I didn’t have time. I didn’t even have my driver’s license.  I was improvising, and this… this was the best thing I could do. 

Emma
slowly got in the front passenger seat.  I gritted my teeth.  She heard the urgency in my voice, and yet, where was
her
urgency?   I was being ignored.  Then again, why would she hurry the hell up?  She didn’t see anyone in the living room, there was no one chasing us, and she didn’t even know why we were leaving the house.  Emma closed her door … oh… so… slooooowly. 

Aaarghhh!

I looked back and backed away from the driveway fast. Then, I peeled out of our street, tires squealing.  I looked in the rear view mirror.  No one was following us.  I took a deep calming breath, and I slowly let it out.  I made a couple of turns until we reached the main road.

It wasn’t that dark
, but I turned the headlights on, anyway.   I snapped my seatbelt in place. “Seatbelt,” I said, reminding Emma to do the same, which, thankfully, she did.

             
I didn’t have a plan, and I didn’t even have a clue. 
Who was the guy in the living room, anyway?  Why was he following me? Was he a stalker?
This was like a horror movie before the not-so-significant-helpless-teenager died by multiple stab wounds.  I didn’t want to be that not-so-significant-helpless-teenager. I had things to do with my life, and whatever it was, it was going to be great.  

I needed to call
someone who would know what to do.
Should I call nine-one-one?
Where was Dad’s phone?
   I reached over with my right hand and opened the glove box, and my left hand accidentally jerked the wheel down.  The car swerved to the left.  

             
“Watch out!”  Emma screamed as we crossed over double yellow lines towards on-coming traffic.  A white pick-up truck was heading straight for us. I slammed on the brakes and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.  I heard a car honk, and I jerked to the right missing the truck by inches… or by millimeters. 
Whatever.
  From my angle and with the adrenaline in my system, it was really hard to tell.

Our
car spun to the right and tires screeched.  Emma screamed. That’s when I saw
him.  It was him -
the young Bruce Wayne look-alike I was running away from.
 
He landed in front of our car.  His wings flared out; they were a bright white against his skin and were longer than Dad’s car. 
Wings!
  He had wings, and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets.  Our car continued to spin as Emma continued to scream.  Then,
he
caught the car with a soft thud.  The car stopped with a jerk, and the left side of my body hit the driver’s side door. 
Ouch.  That’s definitely going to leave a bruise.

I looked to my left, out the driver’s side window, and there he was.  His left hand was on the hood, and his right hand was on the driver’s side door.   His body was only inches away from my window:  no shirt, six-pack abs, swimmer’s body.  He was wearing light brown pants that were slung very low on his hips and nothing else.  I almost had to look away, well, almost.

His wings were massive!  They were still extended away from his body, and his feathers rippled as his wings shifted.  As shocked as I was, I still made the connection:  two plus two always equals four, and flying guy plus white wings equals angel.  He was an angel!
Right
... and let me tell you something, he was so beautiful!

Emma stopped screaming.  The angel
bent down at the waist and peeked through the driver’s side window; he glared at me. I held my breath as we stared at each other.  His eyes narrowed, and I leaned away from the window and away from him.  He was furious, I could tell.  His eyebrows were pulled together in a frown, his jaws were clenched, and his eyes were a blazing deep purple.
Yep.  He was definitely really, really mad.

T
hen, he turned around, and like an angel would, he flew away. I gripped the steering wheel hard until the back of my hands turned white. I forced myself to breathe. 
Inhale the air in… and exhale the air out… and inhale the air in… and exhale…

Still not calm, but now able to talk,
I turned to my right and faced my sister.

“
Em, are you okay?” I asked.

Emma
nodded.  She was still in shock; her face was pale, and her right hand was flat against her chest.  She was still trying to catch her breath.  I should give her a moment or two.

“
Em, did you see that?” I asked.  I scratched my head and peeked out the driver’s side window.

             
“See what?  See that you almost got us KILLED?” she shrieked, her eyes wide.

             
The angel was right there!  How could she not have seen him? 

I frowned
.  “No.  Did you see…
how
we stopped?” I asked. 

             
“PHYSICS?” she shrieked again. 

             
I shook my head.  I peeked out the window again, but the angel was already gone.  I wasn’t sure why I didn’t just ask Emma if she saw what I saw: the drop-dead gorgeous guy who caught Dad’s car with his bare hands.  He was wearing brown pants made of an organic-looking fabric, and oh, by the way, he had wings. Then, of course, he flew away. 
Em, did you see that guy?

Maybe
I kept my mouth shut for self-preservation.  Physics made so much more sense.  It was explainable.  Reasonable.  Not crazy.  So, physics it is. Dad’s car stopped because of physics. 

I leaned over and closed the glove box and noticed
the blood on my right index finger.  I must have cut myself when I jerked my hand from the glove box to grab the wheel; not because of physics this time, but because of biology.  I wiped the blood off on my shirt leaving a dark mark.  I didn’t want to leave blood stains on Dad’s shiny new Mercedes.