A Shimmer of Angels (3 page)

Angels aren’t real. They are figments of an over-active imagination that craves assurance there is such a place as Heaven, so it can believe your mother is in a good place
. Dr. G had explained the light anomalies as hallucinations, common to someone with Schizophrenia Spectrum Disorder.

But those wings had been so bright. How could an imagined vision sear my eyes with that glowing intensity?

Stop it, Ray!

I stumbled to the nearest sink, curling my fingers around the basin rim. I fought the urge to rock, only to realize my body was already teetering, the thighs of my jeans damp as they met the basin, over and over again.

Focus, Rayna. On something. Anything. Don’t slip back. You can’t go back.

My gaze found the scratched mirror above the sink, and I concentrated on my reflection, willing myself to think of anything but the image I couldn’t purge from my mind. Brilliant, shimmery wings, the color of falling snow on a bright day …

Stop. It.

Reflection. Focus on that. It’s all you have.

My eyes glazed over skin so pale even the flaking cream walls held more color. My brown hair was flat, except for the fly-aways that curled wildly around my face. My skin had once been bronze from the sun. My more-green-than-hazel eyes had been bright with happiness, not with fear. That single glance at my reflection confirmed it: I was crazy again.

An eerie quiet settled over the room. The tiled wall snagged my hair as I slid down to the floor.

After all this time, none of the winged men had ever touched me. The boy’s phantom touch still warmed my skin. His hand felt real; he felt human, with flesh and muscle and bone …
and wings
.

I raced to the sink. Turning the hot water on full blast, I shoved my hand under the water, burning his touch off of me.

Dr. G would be so disappointed. After three years, he still hadn’t managed to cure me. I’m not sure what was worse: the thought that I had failed him, or the realization that I was going back.

My backpack lay in a heap in front of the farthest stall. Inside the smallest zippered pouch, three amber pill bottles peeked at me from under the tiny flap. My hands trembled as I palmed them, the pills rattling in their respective bottles. Antipsychotics. Antidepressants. Mood stabilizers. I swallowed one of each, never bothering to stop for water.

It had been stupid of me to quit the meds cold turkey. I knew that now.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Every part of me shook as I scooted back to the wall, dragging my backpack along. I closed my eyes and waited for the crazy to subside.

The bathroom door squeaked open. I jerked, bumping the back of my head against the wall. Pain rattled my vision. Gina Garson darted in just in time for the door to miss her as it slammed closed.

Busted
.

Her brown eyes pinned me to the floor. I stared back, with my backpack curled up in my lap and three pill bottles lying beside me.

So very busted
.

It just had to be Gina Garson, volleyball championship MVP. She stopped short at the sight of me and cupped a hand over her mouth. One of her eyebrows popped up in such a judgmental stare that I shrank away from it.

“It’s not what it looks like.” I began shoving the bottles into my backpack, but my hands shook so violently the stupid bottles dropped back to the floor. I scrambled to collect them.

“Sick.” Gina’s muffled accusation was clear.

Yeah, okay. Maybe it was what it looked like. “Not like you think. I swear. Please. Don’t tell anyone.”

Her stomach gurgled, a loud rumble, and she ran for the farthest stall. The door banged closed a second before the world’s most horrible sounds came from inside.

Without thinking, I dropped my backpack on the pill bottles and stood up. “Are you okay?”

Another round of loud, gross noises. “Peachy.” She spit. “Stomach flu.”

I braced myself against the wall, my own stomach turning end over end. Somehow, I had to talk Gina into forgetting she’d seen me.

Or I could just run. I was good at that. The second floor girls’ room had to be less … populated.

I grabbed my backpack to leave and sent one of the pill bottles rolling into the center stall.

Shit. Oh Shit
.

Gina’s stall quieted into short, shallow breaths.

I dumped my backpack on the floor and lunged into the stall beside hers. The tip of my middle finger teased the smooth plastic. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Safe.
I flicked my finger to reel it in, but it slipped, sending my anti-psych meds spinning smack-dab into Gina Garson’s jeggings.

I’m sure somewhere outside this bathroom the normal world continued, but not here. Here, Gina and I had both stopped. Stopped living. Stopped breathing.

The pills rattled as she picked up the bottle.

The stall door opened, and Gina walked right by me without so much as a glance. I spotted the bulge of a pill bottle in her cardigan pocket. She rinsed her mouth three times and then peered at me through the mirror while the faucet ran. She reached into her pocket. “You look like you might need these more than I do.” She tossed the bottle to me.

I shoved it and the other two bottles into my backpack and let go of the breath I’d been holding. “Uh, thanks.”

I should have left then.

Gina wiped her face and turned around, leaning against the sink. “So what’s your deal?”

My muscles seized. “What? What do you mean?”

“You ran out of class like a freak on fire. Now you’re in here, popping pills. Need I say more?” She tossed her paper towel in the overflowing trash bin.

The difference between Gina and me was not only that she was popular and I wasn’t, or that she was great at volleyball, while I was great at nothing. The biggest difference was that no one would know about Gina’s sickness because I wouldn’t tell them; I’d bet good money, however, that everyone would hear about my crazy, pill-popping freak-out before lunch.

I picked at a loose thread on my jacket sleeve. “Just forgot something, is all.”

“Okay. Whatever. But, when I asked to go to the bathroom, Ms. Cleeson said to bring you back if you were in here.” I watched her pull a tiny compact and lipstick from her pocket and begin working her lips like a super model.

I couldn’t go back to class. Not after what I’d done. What Gina had seen.

The bell rang. Gina snapped her compact shut and turned to me. “I didn’t see anything if you didn’t.”

This was too good to be true. Not that I could trust her to keep her word. Not that I had much choice. “Deal,” I said past a dry throat.

Gina nodded and left the bathroom without so much as a backward glance.

I, on the other hand, waited for the tardy bell to ring and the hallway to quiet before I left. Not a single shimmer tormented me on my way to Science class.

Bald-headed Mr. Ratchor greeted me with a terse, “You’re late.” He marked it on the role sheet to show he meant it, and I took my seat.

I pulled out my book and spent the next fifteen minutes burying myself in the finer points of photosynthesis. I had almost managed to push thoughts of first period away when there was a knock on the classroom door.

“Miss Evans, can you come with me please?”

I looked up from my textbook.

Ms. Morehouse, the school’s counselor-slash-therapist, stood at the door. “Rayna?” She called again.

No, no, no.

I’m not sure why I was surprised that Gina had lied about keeping my secret. I gathered my things, mindful of the curious stares following me to the front of the class.

Today was definitely not a good day.

Chapter Four

The second I set foot in the cafeteria, I knew everyone had heard about my first period freak-out. The cheerleaders arched their brows and whispered as I passed their tables. The jocks eyed me while steamrolling me to be first in the lunch line. The back-row clique from Honors English class nudged each other and laughed when I jerked to a stop.

Stratford Independence was overflowing with kids who were good at something. Some excelled at sports, others were more into academics, after-school clubs, social climbing. The list was endless. My particular brand of talent was blending. Apparently, I’d lost my touch.

Right before I turned to run, Lee came from behind and dragged me to our usual spot. He straddled the bench next to me and whispered conspiratorially in my ear, “Wanna tell me why you’re the talk of the school this morning? What the hell did you do?”

Great
.

“It was nothing. People love to exaggerate.” I picked up my sandwich, but didn’t take a bite.

Lee popped one of my veggie chips into his mouth, then immediately spit it out. He took a long swig of his soda and regrouped. “From what I hear, you slammed into the classroom door, fell on your jellybaby, had to be picked up by some new kid, and disappeared. That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing.’”

“Jellybaby?”

He tilted his head to the side, as if to say,
you should know this
Dr. Who
reference, Ray
.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the look that normally spins me into a fit of giggles. “I didn’t fall!”

“And then Ms. Morehouse came for you in second period.”

Not only had Ms. Morehouse pored over my thick file while I sat there, but then she’d insisted Ms. Cleeson’s call to her was concerning. So concerning, in fact, that we had a nearly three-hour impromptu session right there in her basement office. Gina
had
kept her promise, at least.

“So if you know everything, why bother asking? I should just ask you what happened, Mr. Know-it-all.”

He tore into his bag of “real” chips—Lee was always teasing me for eating “that fake stuff”—but stopped just short of crunching down on one to glance at me. “Just tell me if I should be worried about you. That’s all.”

I might have been able to fool Ms. Morehouse into thinking nothing was wrong, but Lee wouldn’t be so easy. I didn’t want him to worry. I didn’t deserve a friend who got me the way he did. Maybe I’d overshot when I found Lee. I should have picked someone who didn’t care so much, someone who would have been easier to lie to. “I didn’t feel well, so I spent first period in the bathroom. And yes, I saw Ms. Morehouse. But I’m fine. I swear.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

I let my head roll back. “No, because it was nothing, Lee.”

Lee looked like I had just told him his favorite Sci-Fi series had been canceled, and I was sorry I’d snapped. God, I was such a crappy friend.

“Lee, I—”

“Well, well, well,” a throaty voice breathed against my ear. I nearly jumped out of my seat. My sandwich tumbled out of my grip, onto the table. Luke Harper, the hottest guy in school—if you listened to gossip, which I tried to make a habit of not doing—stood only inches away, his hand braced on the table beside me as he leaned in. “When are you finally going to give in and let me get a kiss?” A sexy smile rode the right side of his peachy lips. He eyed Lee suspiciously.

Cute, and a complete meathead
, I reminded myself.

I swallowed and lumped up enough courage to say, “I’m, uh, not.”

Good one.

He straightened, and his hand dropped away. “Aw, loosen up, Evans. I’m just kidding. Sort of. But seriously, if you need a date for the Halloween dance, I think I might be persuaded to drop Gina and take you.”

Pissing Gina Garson off seemed like a bad idea after what she’d seen in the bathroom. So far, it seemed that she hadn’t told anyone, and I’d like to keep it that way.

“You and Gina should go together,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll win king and queen or something.”

Lee cleared his throat. Luke jutted his chin at my best friend, his eyes slightly narrowed. Anyone else might think Lee had an issue with Luke ditching his date, but I knew better. I’d never figured out what the deal was between them, but Lee never felt much like talking about Luke, so I’d learned to leave it alone. Tony DiMeeko came up behind Luke and clapped him on the back. “Have it your way, Evans. Catch you later.” Luke spun around, rubbing the top of his shaved head. Tony nudged him in the ribs with an arm so large I questioned the school’s steroid-use policy. The two moved through the less important people and followed the lunch line.

Not to be outdone by Luke Harper, Lee launched into a speech about his Crush of the Week, Jenna Lancaster, the lanky cheerleader who had said all of three words to me since the start of school, despite the fact we have four classes together.
Four
.

Lee droned on about Jenna’s legs as hints of light brightened the dull cafeteria yellow.
Sun?
Hope burbled up in me. I twisted toward the far end, where windows lined the top of the wall. The sky remained the same muted gray of low-lying fog. Something almost golden hit a water bottle on the table beside us, throwing bright light at me again. I caught the reflection of a wing in the rippling water. Even my thoughts froze.

Lee was still talking, his lips moving in the fast rhythm he got when he was lost in his own thoughts and couldn’t get everything out soon enough, but I couldn’t hear his words.

This can’t be happening.

I turned around to where the reflection should have been, near the caf doors. There was no one there. Why did it still seem so bright?

Another flash. I followed the light to the new kid crossing the room, his wings dipping through people and chairs as he strode toward us.

Stay calm
, I told myself.

Stay calm? The kid with the wings is following me! English class is one thing, but here in the cafeteria in front of two hundred other kids?

No, he was having lunch. We only had one lunch period. And those wings? Not real. He was just a boy. Calm down.

But I didn’t. Couldn’t.

The new kid walked through the crowd of students, his movements slow and confident. His wings were tucked behind him, and the curves peeked out over his shoulders while the tips feathered against his calves. The shine bursting off them created a halo effect. As the wings passed through people, chairs, and tables, they dissipated, reappearing as white smoke before solidifying again. No one seemed to notice them but me.