Shattering Halos (2 page)

“Good morning, Gaia,” the one named Rose sang out. “How did you sleep?” She didn’t wait for an answer, and I realized I’d heard her say that before.

“So much dust. Doesn’t the new cleaning lady do the windowsills?” The younger-sounding nurse was grumbling from over by the window. Briefly, I considered how the dust could have remained in place with
him
sitting there.

“Not sure, Maria. Hasn’t she been out sick for a couple of days?”

Instead of exchanging pleasantries with my “guest” as I’d expected, they kept murmuring between themselves. Water splashed in a basin.

“Time for your bath, Gaia!” Rose spoke in the high-pitched voice reserved for house pets and babies, so I knew the words were for me before I heard my name.

No, no
.
Time to panic
!

My eyes shot open. I swept the room, my breath catching as I detected him perching on a different chair on the opposite side. A golden knee protruded from a hole in his jeans. Did he not have other clothes? Those bright irises oozed of an innocence I didn’t buy. I lifted a weak arm and pointed.

“Wait. Make him leave first.”

Like in an old, silent film, his movements fast-forwarded several frames. Without warning, he stood so close that the sleeve of his shirt skimmed my arm.

His gaze pinned mine, and I couldn’t break away. I stared back, a chemical reaction taking place in me as I plunged further and further into his gaze.

What an eerie magnetism. I liked guys as much as the next girl, but holy moly. What
was
this—“obsession at first sight?” I, Gaia Samuelle, was doing a nosedive…heart first! A gasp escaped me, and his eyebrows arched in astonishment.

My transformation was already complete. Everything in me begged to get closer, much closer to him. At the moment I could have
killed
to yank this boy to me, find his lips, and never freaking let go.

“Did you hear, Maria? Our girl’s awake!”

Crap, Earth calling.

“Gracias a Dios,” Maria said sweetly as the two of them hurried to my bedside.

“Goodness, everybody’ll be over the moon! Let’s get you presentable and pass on the happy news. Can you buzz doctor Mortensen, Maria?”

When they took my covers off, I opened my mouth to protest until I noticed that my visitor was gone.

****

Some say lonely children attract imaginary friends. Despite my age, I figured I must have joined their ranks, but as days became weeks without another glimpse, I accepted that my stranger had been even less than that.

He must have been a mirage. Such an extreme time of my life had produced a sweet memory—my own secret illusion. In my mind, he was the beacon of light shining me back to this side of the living.

The real grind toward healing began. With my broken neck, the chance of waking up disabled had been so much more than a possibility. I knew how lucky I was.

My days were filled with physical therapy and grief counseling, and Luna’s visits came as heaven-sent interruptions.

“Here, Gaia; I made you chocolate chip cookies!” A small package landed on the bed before my sister climbed in. I hurried to dry the tears I’d been crying before she came. “They’ve got M&Ms on top,” she said, but frowned when she saw my expression.

“Why are you upset?”

“What, you think it’s weird that I’m not bouncing with joy when all my friends are dead?”

“Sorry…” My sweet, fourteen-year old sister’s face crumpled, and I felt bad.

“Ugh, no, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just hard, sometimes, with the grief counseling stirring everything up.”

“Do you have to go to that thing?”

“Yeah…I mean it helps, but it hurts too, and I usually have physical therapy right after. It’s like they don’t want me to catch a break.”

Luna’s eyes began to brim over as she leaned into me. “When are they letting you out? I miss you.”

“Soon, I hope,” I said, stroking her hair. She sniffed against my throat, and my breath puffed out too loud.

“What?” she mumbled.

“Nothing. The grief counselor lady mentioned how people feel guilty for being alive…and it made me start thinking.”

“Omigod—is she nuts?
I
don’t feel guilty for being alive. I betcha Grief Lady doesn’t either. Do
you
?”

Her deadpan made me smile. “Well, that’s what survivor’s guilt does, I guess. When people around you die and you somehow…don’t.” I choked on the last word.

“Neat, so you die, all innocent and stuff, or you live and bam, you’re guilty?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Not sure why I’m alive right now.”

“The crash wasn’t your fault!”

“I know, but me, surviving, was freak luck.”

“Ha!” Luna snickered. “More like you’re a lucky freak.”

****

On the day they came to remove the halo—the contraption that immobilized my neck—my sister showed up just in time to keep me company.

“Really? You want to stay for this? You’re not going to be happy,” I promised. My stomach stirred on cue.

“Yep, I’m thinking about becoming a nurse instead of a dancer. See, I’ve been here so much I know everything. Probably wouldn’t even have to study.”

“Luna, they’re going to take the vest, the track, everything off. The screws are coming out of my
skull
. You won’t like it.”

My tummy did a one-eighty, and I reached the bathroom just in time to empty its contents around the toilet.

“Don’t worry, Gaia. We’ll clean that up for you. Now, let’s get rid of this halo,” Rose sing-sang from behind me. How did she get in so quietly? The doors in this place worked too smoothly for my taste. My stomach lurched again: Showtime.

“Eew, eew! That’s so gross!” Luna cried while they worked on my screws. She miraculously recovered in the minute they left, and by the time we entered the bathroom, she was back to her normal, spunky self.

“Okay, Gaia, watch. You’re
so
going to love this.”

I hadn’t felt the urge to study myself over the last months. Now, with the halo track off, I didn’t object when Luna turned me to face the mirror. Exposing tiny, shaved areas on my head, she showed me where the screws had been.

From the mirror, a skinnier, paler me stared back, but my hair still flowed long and thick the way it always had. A brief rush of excitement flooded me at the one constant of my appearance.

“Wow, they really didn’t mess with my hair, did they, when I came in.”

“Nope, Mom threw a fit. Dad told her it was a crazy thing to worry about, but she didn’t care,” Luna said.

“Damn, she’s so stubborn.” I grinned.

Luna brushed the strands so they covered all bare spots except for the ones by my temples. “All you have to do is wash your hair, because it’s nasty, and then you’ll arrange it like this.”

“Yeah, you’ll be a better hairdresser than nurse, Luna. I didn’t hear a single ‘oh, gross’ just now.”

Three months after the accident, I was finally allowed to leave the hospital. My new companion, a tight neck brace, came with me. Strange, how saying goodbye to the doctors and nurses made me feel empty all over again.

Chapter 3 — School

Gaia

Against all odds, it was wonderful to melt into the everyday routine of school. Teachers and classmates shielded me throughout the schooldays, always diverting my attention from what I’d been through. Friendly comments abounded, and students I’d never spoken with before invited me to sit at their lunch tables. It diminished the highs and lows of settling back in. Grateful, I wondered how I would have survived if they had acted as unofficial grief counselors instead.

Compassion compelled the school board in our little town to shift me up to senior status with the new academic year. Since I had different classes from the former year, I wasn’t reminded of laughing with Megan in British Literature or leaning drowsily on Chris in Trig.

In my Computer Apps class, I met Marina, a lively girl of Italian descent who’d moved to Spring Hills while I was hospitalized. Marina danced instead of walked and giggled while she talked. We were both starting fresh—albeit in different ways—and she suited my return to the world well.

Marina was full of questions, but thankfully her interest in the accident seemed minimal. When it came to my neck brace, though, she had a healthy dose of curiosity.

“Hey, so do you have to wear that thing all the time? You’d look better without it.”

“Gee, I hope I do. It’s not a fashion statement, Marina. And yes, I wear the neck brace all the time. Even at night.”

“Ah, I figured.”

“Smart girl.”

“So for the rest of your life, then?”

“No! Thank God, no…” I snorted.

“Yay for you—do they have it in other colors? Teal would suit you really well. Oh—oh, I know!”

“What?” I stifled a groan.

“I could find you a Disney princess edition. Belle! Which Disney princess is your favorite?”

“Uh, I don’t know. None of them?”

She moved on seamlessly. “Can I try it on?”

“What? No! Not in a million years!”

Having Marina around lifted my spirits. She always tried to make me laugh. We bonded over starting fresh, our aversion to the school pasta, and soon our talks included my art, Marina’s religion, and our plans for the future.

During one of these lunches, Marina was chattering away as we entered the cafeteria.

“Did you notice how the lunch lady sloshed the lasagna onto the plate with a freaking ladle the other day? So disgusting,” Marina said.

“Yeah, there’s got to be tons of leftovers on pasta days.”

We’d been let out before the bell rang, and the ceramic floor by the buffet flashed slick with moisture. A waft of detergent reached me, raising a mental picture of somebody losing a glob of the dreaded lasagna on the floor. I imagined the smear splattered over the light ceramic tiles. Blood-colored. Blended with pasta in the sickening color of fractured bones.

Megan! Her arm when it twisted against the window before the car exploded.

My lungs couldn’t use all the oxygen I inhaled. Unsteady, I needed something to hold on to.

Eyes thawed my back as I walked to the counter. The feeling tingled up my spine, bringing me to a halt. I turned slowly—and went still.

Behind us, he scanned the wet floor with a frown. Too fast for me to panic, luminous irises bored into mine. I waited for the pain to roar in and destroy me. When nothing happened, my heart tried to gallop away in hopes that my legs would take the hint.

After months, he suddenly appeared on top of a lunch table in my school. In faded jeans and barefoot, in the same flowing, white shirt, he just sat there…beaming!

His skin shimmered as he tilted his head; even in the bright lunchroom, he looked backlit.
I’m dying
, I thought and could have sworn his angelical features tensed.

Why would I see him now when my subconscious hadn’t conjured him up in months? Either I was going crazy, or he didn’t have an imaginary bone in his body. Sure, he was eerily gorgeous and surreally out of place, but still…

“Hey, what are you staring at, Gaia?” Marina squinted at me, bemused.

“You see him, right? On top of the table?”

“Who?”

The bewildered lilt in her voice made me frown. “Please. Look closer.”

“Uh-huh. You’re so messing with me right now.”

I shot her a side-glance. To me, nothing could be more obvious than him erupting into another glorious smile in front us. I grabbed Marina’s arm and forced her to narrow the distance with me, but by the time I stretched out a palm in an I-told-you-so gesture, he’d disappeared. Either he was playing cat and mouse with me, or I had lost my marbles.

Studying me, Marina’s brow furrowed. Her mouth lifted on one side as her eyes narrowed into slits. “Meh. I got nothing. What’s up, Gaia?”

Disappointment thickened my throat. I turned away from her as my lower lip launched into a tremble. Damn, I was still so unstable!

Please, don’t notice.

She instantly caught my change of mood.

“Oh, sweetie, did you think you saw Chris? Did he use to wait for you like that when you came out of class?”

Incapable of getting a grip, I fueled her less-than-discreet Italian compassion. Grief wrenched my gut, and she squeezed me tight. Yes, Chris
had
always waited for me in the cafeteria, and I suddenly missed him more than ever. I missed Megan and Brandon, I missed Ash, and I missed my invention. My imaginary friend. The stranger.

No. I did not just think that!

“I’m so sorry!” Fussing, she pressed me into a seat. The tears forced their way down my cheeks as the cafeteria filled with students. Survival instinct kicked into gear at the uneasy looks they sent me. I shot up, ready to get away from the spotlight.

“I’ll be right back…”

“Gaia, where are you going? I’ll come with you.”

I shook my finger at her.

“No, no, don’t bother. I’m fine.”

Then, I fled. Not prone to tantrums or crying, I wondered how the drama queens did it; how do you calm down when your emotions morph into chaotic roadmaps full of dead-end streets?

People live with grief.

With a tempest howling inside me, it took all my strength not to race down the hallways. I wanted to get away from the stares and be alone.

Gaia, he doesn’t exist.

Maybe I could find him. In the cafeteria, I’d felt lighter after he appeared. I moved through the corridors, faintly noticing the lunch bell as I curved into the main hallway. Laughter and chattering filled the halls, and the students streamed into the space around me. I wanted—no, needed—to be alone. I fixated on the janitor’s closet.

I tried the doorknob. It relented, and I stumbled into a tiny room bristling with buckets and brooms, cleaning supplies and shelves of toilet paper. Despite the lack of space, I managed to shut the door behind me. The closet eclipsed in blackness.

A resigned sigh welcomed me, and the idea of someone else in there hit me as a transgression of physical laws. Wide-eyed, I swept the darkness.

Strands of hair that weren’t mine tickled my cheek. I managed a twist in the cramped space, and my nose brushed against a lock.

Amber and verbena, wildflowers and hay. I let the velvety scent envelop me. With my mouth open, I breathed in the heady aroma like a cat. Now I’d seen him. I’d felt, and I’d smelled him. All these senses couldn’t be wrong at once, right?