Bird Song (24 page)

Dermal?
 
You mean skin, right?

He smirked.
 
Do you really hate Mr.
Branke’s
class that much that you’d need to ask that?

I pictured myself stomping on his foot and smiled when his smirk disappeared and was replaced with an apologetic frown.
 
Sorry.
 
Yes, dermal as in involving your skin.
 
No one could see it except me, but it was there, Grace.

The word “it” shouldn’t have meant anything to me.
 
It shouldn’t have, but it did.
 
That awful bruise I got on my hand at the wedding.
 
You mean, that was on my shoulder?

He shook his head slightly, and pulled me in even closer to him, steering us towards a small alcove between some lockers.
 
He pressed me up against the side of them and placed his hands beside my head, his arms trapping me between him and the cold metal behind me.
 
It’s everywhere, Grace.
 
It’s
…
all over your chest.
 
I stopped it from spreading down your legs but there’s some faint lacing of it crawling up your neck and down your arms.

He traced his finger along the column of my neck, the touch causing me to forget everything he had said, everything I had been thinking of.
 
All I was able to do was fight back the need to groan as he traced the path that led up to my pulse and then back down to the collar of my shirt.

Grace, focus please.

I shook my head.
 
You started it.

I need you to listen.
 
The bruising is very unique in appearance, Grace.
 
It doesn’t look like a normal bruise.
 
You remember-

I remembered.
 
Despite the delicious feeling of having him so close, I remembered everything about that bruise.
 
I had punched Lark playfully in her arm, the contact brief and painless for the both of us.
 
It shouldn’t have been for me because according to Robert, the chemical makeup of an angel’s skin was like that of spider’s silk:
 
it was unbelievably strong, like steel, but felt like the exact opposite.
 
It was soft, smooth and supple…deceptively supple.
 
The brief connection between Lark’s arm and my fist had broken every single bone in my hand, and turned my flesh into a veritable palette of blues and blacks.

But, while the bruising, the breakage, and the fact that I didn’t feel a thing was all incomprehensible enough on their own, the pattern of the bruising is what had left Lark and Robert with little in the way of explanation.
 
I quickly lifted my arm and pulled at my sleeve, gasping as I saw the familiar markings.
 
My arm looked like a purple and black honeycomb, the hexagonal shapes fading gently down my forearm and disappearing shortly before my wrist.

I quickly yanked my sleeve back down and stared, wide-eyed at Robert’s face.
 
What am I going to do?
 
I can’t go home like this
—
Dad’ll
freak!

Robert’s eyelids lowered as he thought about what it was that could be done to quickly heal the bruising that was slowly going to reach my hands and demand an explanation to the unexplainable.
 
I grinned.
 
I more than grinned; I nearly whooped for joy.

Grace, be serious here.
 
This is to help heal you.
 
It will only be for a little while, and we do not want to gather too much attention because of it.

I turned my head to look at the mass of students that walked by, each one stealing a quick glance in our direction and then looking away, embarrassed that they had been seen looking in the first place.
 
If you don’t want us to gather too much attention, I suggest you hurry up and kiss me before the bell rings.

As he leaned in, his method of healing now the only thing I ever wanted to think of ever again, I felt the familiar stumbling of my heart as it sped up and lost control of its rhythm.
 
I held my breath, held myself completely still while his painfully slow approach increased the building anticipation within me.

When his lips finally, softly pressed against mine, the first time he’d ever actually done so in school, the self-control that I was holding onto so desperately broke free.
 
My hands flew to his face, wanting to hold him there forever.
 
I felt his mouth turn up into a smile against mine as he heard my thoughts.

“Is that a promise?” he whispered, his breath sending every nerve I possessed into a frenzy as it hit my skin.
 
I relished the way his breathing sounded as ragged as my own, the short connection between us doing just as much damage to him as it had done to me.
 
“Damage?
 
I thought I was healing you.”
 
He leaned in and brushed my lips with his again…once, twice…the third time was done with as much pressure and insistence as I knew he was capable of before he lost his composure.

When at last he rested his forehead against mine, I answered his question.
 
“It’s damaging, being so close to you, needing you so much and not being able to do anything about it.”

“Yes.
 
I suppose we are doing some serious damage to ourselves then, aren’t we?”
 
He pulled away, his arms dropping down to grab my arm.
 
He lifted my sleeve and smiled at his handiwork.
 
“No more bruising.”

I didn’t look down.
 
I didn’t want to.
 
I could only see the disappointment in his eyes that contradicted the smile on his face.
 
I wanted to ask him, needed to know what caused it, but as usual, my timing was all wrong; the bell rang, sending the remaining students in the hall into a mad dash towards their classes.

Robert took a firm hold of me and stepped out of the alcove.
 
Although I knew that we weren’t anywhere near our class, we still ended up standing in front of the door in the same amount of time it would have taken any normal person to have exited our little hideaway.
 
He opened the door for me and gently coaxed me inside, his hand on the small of my back offering tremendous comfort as I realized that, with all eyes on the two of us, our exchange of affection had been witnessed or relayed to just about everyone possible in nearly no time at all.

And you thought your ability to share thoughts was fantastic.
I thought to Robert, smiling.
 
Nothing beats the speed and accuracy of high school gossip.

“Okay Mr.
Bellegarde
, Miss Shelley.
 
Take your seats please,” Mr. Danielson called out to us from his office.
 
“We’ll be starting in just a few moments so I think I’ll excuse your…tardiness.”

The giggling and snorts of amusement that echoed around the large, auditorium-like classroom was enough for me to understand why we had never done anything like this until today, and why we probably wouldn’t do this ever again.

I wouldn’t say that.

My head turned slightly to acknowledge his thoughts as we sat down in our seats.
 
Oh?
 
Why?

Just that it was worth all of this discomfort.

I felt my eyes narrow as I looked at him, his features giving away nothing.
 
Almost nothing—I saw it then:
 
the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth told me everything I needed to know.
 
You didn’t need to do that, did you?
 
You could have healed the bruising the usual way.

The twitch grew until his bottom lip looked like it was trembling from trying to contain the grin I knew was threatening to break free.
 
You little sneak!
 
You did that to distract me!

He nodded, the silver in his eyes shimmering with liquid heat.
 
I had to blink before I lost my train of thought.

It worked, didn’t it?

This time, it was my turn to nod, and I turned around in my seat in a huff, miffed that he couldn’t have simply said that he wanted to kiss me.
 
You’re enough of a distraction.
 
I don’t need subterfuge to kiss you, Robert.

He turned in his seat to face me, and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands held out for mine.
 
I pretended I didn’t see them.
 
Grace, you need whatever distractions you can get right now, but you still need to be able to focus.
 
If I had simply told you that I wanted to kiss you, two things would have happened.
 
The first one being that you’d want us to leave, and the second one being that you’d become very disappointed when I said no.

I felt my bottom lip push out.
 
He was right.

And, even if I hadn’t said no, you would have still been very disappointed when I wouldn’t let you get carried away.
 
At least here, there was a double reason for maintaining your self-control.

I snorted.
 
Self-control.
 
Hah.
 
You were having some difficulties yourself, Robert.
 
You specifically chose the environment to help keep you in check; not me.

His face paled at my words, his lips pulling into a surprised smile.
 
Well, I suppose you’re right.
 
I do have a problem with my own self-control around you, you know that.
 
It’s becoming more and more difficult to reign in, but I’ve got time.
 
So
…
forever, eh?

I glared at him.
 
Don’t change the subject!

He chuckled softly as he motioned towards the front of the class with his head.
 
I don’t think I have a choice.
 
Quickly, very quickly, he reached for my hand and pressed a warm kiss to my palm, replacing my hand without anyone having seen a thing.

The start of class wouldn’t be ignored today as Mr. Danielson began handing out packets of paper:
 
our next classroom exercise.
 
I took mine without bothering to open it up, choosing instead to watch as Robert leafed through his lazily.
 
I knew he’d have thoroughly finished reading it before I even completed the first paragraph of instructions, so I simply waited, my eyes scanning the classroom carelessly.
 
Instantly my gaze stopped on the only other pair of eyes that chose to ignore the packet.

Erica’s eyes were narrowed into angry slits, her mouth ironed into a harsh, aging line.
 
She was glaring at me with an unbelievable amount of anger and vehemence; I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up again.

She looks like she wants to kill me.
 
I didn’t need to do or say anything.
 
Robert had his hand protectively at my back, the room suddenly growing still and cool.
 
Mr. Danielson walked over to the thermostat to adjust the temperature, just enough of a distraction to cause Erica to point her gaze elsewhere.
 

Her mind is clouded with rage.
 
I’ve tried several times to pinpoint the source, but she’s so angry, so full of hate for you, I don’t know which end is up.
 
It’s rare to find someone so focused on something so destructive, it blocks out all other thought and memory.
 
Robert’s thoughts told me nothing new.
 
Her face said everything.
 
She hated me.
 
Hated me without any room for rhyme or reason, and I still had no clue as to why.

I will find out, Grace.
 
I will get to the bottom of this before she tries a repeat of her attack on Stacy.

I smiled sadly and wondered when exactly had my life as being nobody’s friend turned into being someone’s mortal enemy.

As the days dragged on, the same scenario repeated itself:
 
I’d flow through the first five classes without incident, then enter sixth period with Erica’s dagger-like stare stabbing me at every possible moment, ending only when Robert caused an environmental or emotional diversion, or when Mr. Danielson finally had enough of being ignored.
 
Robert could only see black rage in her head, and it was affecting his moods, so he simply stopped delving into her mind.
 
Lark became extremely protective over Stacy, even as she and Graham appeared to grow closer.

By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, we had entered into a routine that would have seemed very ordinary if it weren’t for the building tension between what had by then become known as Team Stacy and Team Erica.
 
No one else in the school knew that Stacy’s attack had been meant for me, and Stacy and I both agreed it should remain that way.
 
Erica had yet to be punished, and while Stacy’s parents worked on a litigation strategy, Stacy, Graham, Lark, Robert and I made it a point to always keep Erica within our sight to prevent anything else from happening.