Falling (The Falling Angels Saga) (18 page)

“Megan. Can I come in?” Maudrina’s voice, filled with concern, turned my laughter off like a faucet.

“Yes. Come.”

She pushed in and stood in the doorway for several moments, watching as I removed the makeup. All of a sudden, the laughter began trickling out of me, as if my faucet had sprung a leak.

“Megan, you’re scaring me.”

I stopped giggling and looked at Maudrina in the mirror. Lines of concern fanned across her brow. “You know what’s scary?” I said. “To be in a room full of people all wishing horrors upon you. Sickness. Loss of a limb. Jail time.” I shook my head and let loose with one last mirthless chuckle. “It’s scary to think that so many people I don’t even know would wish that something bad would happen to me.”

“You have to be strong now, Megan, maybe stronger than you’ve ever been.”

“I know,” I said softly, continuing to peer at her through the looking glass. “I think they’d like me if they got to know me,” I said wistfully.

“This isn’t about you, and you know it!” she said in a chastising tone. “They’re Satanists. To them, a bride for Satan is all that matters.”

“I need to wash the rest of this gunk off my face,” I said, rising. The sudden change in subject threw her.

“Oh. Okay.”

I started from the room, heading for the bathroom. As I brushed past her in the doorway, I stopped. “Will you come to my wedding?”

“Of course I will, Sweetie. Has Guy officially asked you?”

“I’m not talking about Guy,” I said, my tone turning gloomy.

We stared into each other’s eyes, neither of us blinking for a long moment. “I know you’re not.” She considered her words, ran a hand through her hair, her eyes never leaving mine. “Megan, it’s important that you believe you can get past this. I believe it. I believe this is the final hurdle in a long and grueling race, and once you’re over it, the race will be won. But
you
have to believe it.”

“I want to believe it,” I said, my voice grating against the back of my throat. Slow tears traced down my cheeks.

She corralled me into a hug. “Tell you what. I’ll believe it for both of us for now. Give you a little break,” she whispered into my ear. “Then tomorrow, or the next day, or even the next, you can start believing, too. Okay?”

Okay,” I rasped. What I was thinking was:
Maudrina really is the best best friend.

Monday morning I was up and dressed extra early for school. It was still dark outside when I trotted off to the bathroom. Amanda lay at the foot of the bed. She’d been playing with a loose thread from the top sheet, but once I got up, she stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
Do you know what time it is?

Sunday had dragged on like an interminable flu, most of which I’d spent tucked away in my room. Monday morning, however, I felt as though I could put the weekend malaise and the miserable thoughts that had plagued me since the visit to Dagenhart Castle out of my mind. Classes, tests, mathletes, running for school office, even manipulative Ashley Scott would all be a refreshing diversion from my troubles. Like a hungry tiger, I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth back into my school day.

Amanda was usually gone from the room by the time I woke up. This morning, I was up first and out of the room. She followed me downstairs, sat by her dish, observing me with a mixture of curiosity and confusion as I pulled the Cheerios dispenser from the pantry and fixed myself a bowl.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I called out as I splashed on the milk. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She just sat there staring.

“Aren’t you usually off to your hell cat morning meeting by now? Don’t let me keep you.”

She yawned to let me know I was starting to bore her.

“Fine! You want to sit there and stare, sit there. But don’t go blaming me if you get kicked out of the hell cat club.” I shoved a drippy spoonful of Cheerios into my mouth to punctuate my statement. My words didn’t faze her one bit, or maybe they did. She licked her paws for a few moments, then sauntered from the room.

“I’m not writing you a note,” I called after her.

The bus was nearly empty as I rode to school. There were no students in the locker area as I arrived. The place was like a western ghost town. The only things missing were tumble weeds blowing through. I opened my locker, which seemed to bang extra loudly, the noise ricocheting off the walls, bouncing up the empty hall. I took out my first and second period books. I figured I’d wander over to study hall and read until it was time for Maudrina to arrive.

“Mornin’, early bird.”

Guy’s voice pierced the silence like Cupid’s arrow piercing my heart. I wheeled around to find his smiling face behind me.

“Where have you been?”

“I figured you needed some time to think,” he said, the smile still on his gorgeous lips. “But don’t worry, I was always nearby. And when you fell asleep, I was there keeping you safe.”

I knew Guy had been in my room while I was sleeping. I could sense his presence each time I awoke, yet when I rolled over and looked for him, he was nowhere to be found. While it settled my nerves knowing he was always watching over me while I slept, I didn’t feel like rewarding him with a smile. After all, he had deserted me.

“I wish I’d had some say in that decision,” I groused.

“Was I wrong?” That little boy lost look crept onto his face, the one no girl can resist.

“No fair!” I sang and slammed shut my locker door, the slam sounding like a tiny explosion.

“What?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

“You know good and well I can’t resist that look. Who can? That’s why you painted it all over your face. You’re trying to win my sympathy. You’re a cheater, Guy Matson.”

He smiled his smile. “So, it’s working?”

“No!” I snapped, but I knew he could see the beginnings of my own smile lurking just beneath the surface. “It’s not working. Not this time.”

“How ’bout this one?” His lips turned pouty, reminding me of Ashley Scott’s ridiculous pout. I burst into laughter.

“That’s not working, either,” I called.

Before I knew it, I was in his arms.

“I thought about showing my face. I really did,” he said, and he kissed my hair.
My hair
for chrissake! After that, I was putty in his hands. “I wanted to be there, so many times. But you needed space.”

“No, I didn’t,” I whined. “I needed you,” I said in a really needy voice.

His smile turned indulgent. “Me, you’ve always got. I’m not going anywhere.”

As suddenly as I found myself in his arms, I found us kissing. My side of the kiss was greedy. I was like a homeless person who hadn’t had a good meal in a week, feasting on the taste of him, my tongue excavating the dark recesses of his mouth, luxuriating in his sweetness, as if I’d unearthed gold. I needed that kiss. I needed to be in his arms just then. I needed to know that, despite the mess I found myself in, he still wanted me.

“You were right about me needing time to think,” I said as the kiss ended. We were still in each other’s embrace, clinging to the moment. “As much as I hate to admit it, you were right.” I stroked his sweet face with the back and then front of my hand.

“Oh?” he said, leaning into my touch, allowing my stroking hand to linger.

“As much as I didn’t enjoy the alone time, I needed it.” Students began wandering into the locker area. I slipped out of his embrace so as not to create a scene. “The time alone helped me realize that my reaction to the Satanists was based on selfish motives.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” he said with a skeptical, raised eyebrow. Even with the raised eyebrow, his eyes were a dreamy delight.

“You once said to me ‘You can’t get everyone to like you, Megan.’ Remember?”

“Of course, I remember. But at the time, we were talking about that Poplarati girl, Ashley, and the school election. That’s a far cry from Satanists.”

“You’d think,” I said, a small embarrassed smile springing to my lips. “But my reaction to what happened at the castle was based on just that—wanting people to like me. It wasn’t them wanting me for Satan’s bride that got me all messed up. It was that they wished bad things upon me. They didn’t like me.”

A slow smile appeared on Guy’s lips. He nodded. “You
have
been thinking about this.”

“I have. And you know what else? I was overreacting Saturday. Orthon was right. The Satanists
are
lunatics.” At the mention of Orthon, Guy’s eyes flashed momentary anger. “They don’t know me, and they never will. I’m not going to worry myself sick over some silly girls wanting to step on my toes. If they step on my toes, I’m stepping back!”

“Bravo.” Guy applauded me, his expression once again softening as he chuckled with delight. “Bravo! Your time alone seems to have snapped you out of your funk.”

“Not as much as that kiss.” A smile appeared on my lips. “I missed you, Guy. I got used to having you around every night.”

“Like I said, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’”

He was standing there looking so darned hot and desirable, I moved back into his arms for one last hug. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He chuckled.

“What?”

“Can you believe that demon thinks he knows you better than I do?” His chest rumbled against mine in soft laughter. Anger rose in me, like steam from a boiling pot. I stiffened in his arms. “What is it?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look into my face.

“Nothing.”
Why am I feeling anger?
I bit down on the inside of my lip, trying to get a handle on myself. I was angry with Guy because he had dismissed Orthon so easily.
But why?

“I’m sorry. I should’ve known bringing him up would cause an un-fond memory. I know his trickery hurt you—”

“I have to get to class,” I said, stepping out of his arms.

He searched my face for meaning. He found none. Instead, he found a mask of confusion. “All right, then. I’ll… see you later,” he said softly.

“Yes. Later,” I replied with a false smile. I turned away before the truth, lurking beneath the surface, crumbled my smile to ash. I started down the hall.

*

Tran was hovering near my desk when I arrived at first period statistics. His geek glasses had done a disappearing act over the weekend, as had the fan boy wardrobe. He was now wearing a cool, skater-style hoodie over a white tee. Even his jet black hair had been styled into a spikey do. Tran no longer looked like a math nerd. Excuse the pun, but Tran had been transformed.

There you are,” he said as I walked up. “I’ve been calling you all weekend.”

Tran’s anxiousness got my thoughts away from Orthon and Guy. “My phone was off. What’s up?”

“There’s a meet-the-candidates rally tomorrow after school out on the quad.”

“Meet the candidates?”

“I knew you weren’t aware of it. See! I told you!” he called over his shoulder, up to the front of the room where Jenny sat with her back to us, rigid, as if she were sitting in a stiff wind. There was enough attitude coming off her to set off a Geiger counter. She didn’t turn around.

“I thought you might not be aware, but no problem,” Tran continued. “It’s the first shot for candidates to present themselves to the entire student body. I wrote a speech for you.” He handed me a loose-leaf page that had been folded over many times.

“A speech,” I said, totally caught off guard. I began unfolding the paper.

“It’s good. Don’t worry.”

I read: “My fellow Americans.” I looked at him. “That’s original.”

“Hey! I labored all weekend over that speech, and you didn’t. Don’t complain.”

Tran was right. I’d been so caught up with the weekend conclave, I hadn’t been paying any attention to the election. I continued to peruse the speech. “I see you mentioned yourself seven times.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” said Tran. He appeared supremely confident. “But I’m sure if I mentioned myself, it was for good reason.”

I read aloud: “I owe much of my success at G.U. to my good friend and campaign manager, Tran Phung.” I shot him a look.

“What?”

“I owe my success at G.U. to
you
?” I asked, scrunching up my face.

“Well… you’re on the mathletes who were county champs last semester, and I’m president of the mathletes. You get the connection.”

“I guess. But isn’t Guy Matson the reason we’re county champs?”

It was his turn to scrunch up
his
face. “I can see how some people might interpret it that way.”

I went back to perusing the speech. I stopped again. “Why am I mentioning
your
GPA in
my
speech?”

“Duh!” he said, shooting me an incredulous look. “Because it makes you seem smart.”

“I
am
smart. I’m an AP student.”

“It makes you seem smart-er, because you chose
the
student with a four-point-eight GPA as your campaign manager. Students will recognize you’ve chosen the best team possible to help you get the job done once you’re elected.” He snorted out a laugh. “Ashley Scott has Heather McNamara as her campaign manager. She’s got a two point seven, tops!”

“And you’re again referring to yourself when you say ‘best team possible,’ right?”

Tran’s scrunched-up face got scrunchier. “I’m starting to detect you’re not fully appreciating the speech I labored over for you
all weekend long
!”

I sighed and then smiled. How could I complain? I had a speech. “It’s a lovely speech, Tran, but I think it could use a teeny rewrite.”

“Ya think? Okay.” He reached for the page and I pulled it back.

“I’ll take it from here.”

He seemed reluctant to leave me alone with my own speech. “Okay. Just have it ready by tomorrow at three o’clock.”

“Will do.”

Mr. Percival arrived soon after, and Tran returned to his seat next to Jenny, who not once turned around to acknowledge me.

How did I become the other woman? I don’t want to be the other woman.

I needed to talk to her about it, let her know I was in no way after her man.
As if?

Class began, and despite having made it onto the Satanist Most-Wanted List, I found myself in a pretty good mood. I’d used the weekend to put things into perspective, and it worked. The angel I loved showing up at school loaded down with kisses along with Tran’s overzealousness toward the election added to my good mood. I was happy to be at school. School was my refuge, my fortress. Then, Mr. Percival handed back our test papers, and I realized my fortress had been breached.