Angelbound

Chapter 5-3

The weekend decays into a blur of bad reruns from human television, good sugar cereals, and dreading seeing Cissy at school. Monday morning arrives way too soon. Before I know it, I’m slogging through the front doors at Purgatory High. I barely set foot inside the main hallway when Cissy skip-walks toward me, a huge smile on her face.

Hells Bells. When you’re miserable, there’s nothing worse than someone else’s happiness.

“Gooooooood morning, Myla!” Her little golden curls bounce by her shoulders. Even her hair looks chipper.

“Hey, Cissy.”

“Did you get my messages? I tried to get in touch a million times. Then your answering machine was busted or something.”

I press my palms into my eyes. “Mom and I had a fight and–” What do I say here? I fought with a thrax, my dad might be a ghoul, and an oracle angel is sending me visions of Mom’s past? I sigh. “I’ve been a little down, that’s all.”

Frowning, Cissy places her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, that’s too bad.” I can almost hear her counting to three under her breath, giving my misery a bit of air-time before we move onto the marquee subject. “Okay, then! Let’s talk about Zeke.”

I debate about feigning illness—a sudden bout of the plague might get me out of this morning’s Zeke love fest—but then I remember Cissy’s been obsessing about this guy for at least a decade. Let her have her moment. I plaster on a grin. “Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

I half-listen to her love-babble until she starts demonstrating Zeke’s best dance moves down the hallway. The girls stare with a sneer, the guys with open mouths. I’m seriously debating what would happen if I accidentally tripped her when I get the bright idea to check my watch.

“Gosh Cissy, I have to run. Can’t be late for History!” Wow, I never thought I’d say that out loud.

For once, I arrive early to History, slipping into my favorite back row seat. All the students mill about, chit-chatting about the weekend. Miss Thing puts on lipstick using a small compact. Amazing how she can use a mirror and still not notice the huge red smear across her front teeth.

Miss Thing claps her hands twice. “Everyone, pay attention.”

I sit straight in my chair, ready to work. I’m feeling mighty proud of my Cissy management strategy when I realize my massive error: class is starting and Zeke’s just now walking through the door. I swing my long hair in front of my face, hoping that will hide my identity (not my best plan.) He heads straight for me anyway.

I almost face-palm myself. What’s the first rule of avoiding someone at school? Arrive late to class so you pick the seat farthest away from them.

Miss Thing paces the front of the room, her red stilettos click-clacking with each step. “Class, turn to 542 of Purgatory Through the Ages.”

I whip out my book as Zeke slides into the empty seat next to mine.

“Morning, Myla.”

Flipping through pages, I pretend not to hear him. Maybe he’ll get the message and pay attention to the lecture.

“I said, good morning, Myla.”

No such luck. I grind my teeth and low out a low ‘grrr.’ I’d expected the love-fest from Cissy, but I truly counted on never speaking to Zeke again. Now, I’m trapped next to him in history class and Mister Smarmy wants to talk. This sucks, big time.

Be nice to him for Cissy, Myla. Don’t ruin it for her.

I let out one last ‘grr’ and whisper “Hey, Zeke.”

Miss Thing stops pacing. Her black eyes carefully scan the room. “Class, we’re about to start a very important lesson. This month marks the twentieth anniversary of Armageddon’s liberation of Purgatory. To celebrate, we’ll learn all about how clever and merciful your new overlords are. Who wants to begin the reading?” No one raises a hand. “Paulette, why don’t you start us off? Page 542.”

Paulette carefully repositions her Hermes scarf on one shoulder, then begins to read: “Armageddon’s War, Episode One, Quasis Mismanage Purgatory. For thousands of years, quasi-demons mismanaged–”

As Paulette keeps reading, Zeke whispers across the aisle. “Myla, I know why you were so angry at the party.”

My throat tightens. Zeke knows Lincoln?

“You do?” Picking up my pen, I start doodling on my notebook. “It’s one thing to be treated that way by a ghoul, but not…You know.”

Zeke nods. “I understand.”

Setting down my pen, I take a good look at Zeke. Of all the people in my life, I never expected to confide in him, let alone during history class. But here he is, caramel eyes wide with understanding.

I fidget in my seat. “I guess it caught me off guard.” Taking a deep breath, I feel my limbs loosen.

“It could happen to anyone.” Zeke folds his hands neatly on his desk. “Why did you keep it a secret?”

Why didn’t I tell anyone I was insulted by a thrax? “I guess it was embarrassing.”

Zeke sighs. “You should have confessed your major crush on me years ago. I would’ve been cool about it.”

My mouth falls open. “My major crush on who?”

“Come on, Myla. You’ve been crushing on me for ages and now everyone knows it. A bunch of kids saw you lose it when Cis and I were dancing.”

Anger zooms through my body. I scan the room; half the class stares at me and Zeke, their eyes filled with pity. Unholy Moley. Zeke’s version of Friday night is all over school. Rage smolders up my spine.

“You’re wrong, Zeke.” My eyes glow red.

“Don’t go all demon-iris on me. It’s not a bad thing. I was starting to wonder if you were like those single cell thingies we learned about in Biology. You know, the ones that don’t need a mate? What are they called again?”

My hands clench into fists. “Amoebas?”

“I was going to say paramecium.”

My eyes flare brighter. “Well, now you don’t have to say that. Ever. Again.”

Leaning across the aisle, Zeke speaks in a low voice: “All I want to know is this: are you okay with Cissy and I dating? I mean, can you actually handle seeing all this–” he gestures across his chest “–with someone else?”

It takes all my strength not to howl and rip the room apart. Three-fourths of the class stares at us now. The scene perfectly matches what Zeke told them: I had a massive obsession with him, not the other way around. I grip the edges of my desk so tightly, I think my knuckles will pop.

Zeke eyes me carefully. “Well?”

“I was never interested in you, Captain Ego.”

“That’s not what I asked you, Myla.” He makes tut-tut noise in his throat, and I have to stifle the urge to punch him. “Look, Cissy and I talked about this over the weekend.” He takes a deep breath. “Unless you say you’re okay with us, she won’t see me anymore.” The color drains from his face.

I stare at him out of my right eye. Guys like him don’t change overnight. “Why isn’t Cissy asking me this?”

“She will.” He scrapes at the desktop with his thumbnail. “I didn’t want to take a chance, so I brought it up with you first.” His voice goes low. “Actually, I promised her I wouldn’t bring it up at all.”

“So, you lied to my best friend.” My inner rage monster lets out a protective roar. “Let’s set aside my so-called ‘obsession’ with you for a moment.” I make little quotation marks with my fingers when I say ‘obsession.’ “You’ve been nothing but a mindless lust monkey for years. Why should I agree to let you near someone as sweet as Cissy?”

Zeke lets out a long sigh. “My family has power, money.” He leans back in his chair, rubbing his neck with his hand. “It makes me a target.”

My upper lip curls. Screw him and his fake problems. “Boo hoo.”

Zeke chuckles, but there isn’t any humor in his laugh. “And that’s what I’m talking about.” He shakes his head from side to side. “Cissy doesn’t see me as this privileged dickhead.” His shoulders slump. For the first time, I see him as a different person: a warrior, but not someone who battles with rage, like me. More like someone who fights with despair.

“You have to understand, Cissy sees someone else in me.” His caramel eyes find mine, and for the first time there’s something and real behind them. “I want to be that guy for her, Myla.” His jaw sets into a firm line. “Please give us a chance, that’s all I ask.”

My rage cools. I never thought of Zeke as acting the playboy to hide something else. But all those overly-expensive gifts and one-time hook-ups? The pattern’s kinda obvious, come to think of it.

Closing my eyes, I picture the first time I talked to Cissy. It was in first grade, and I was trying to avoid trouble on the playground. It didn’t work. Billy Summers was giving me crap for my ‘weird tail’ for the millionth time. I snapped, flattened him, and then everyone—teachers and kids alike—looked at me like a criminal-s***h-freak. That’s when Cissy walked up to me and took my hand. She saw something different in me, too. My heart warms at the memory.

I inhale a slow breath. “I’ll give you a chance, Zeke. But so help me, if you hurt her…” My eyes flare red. “I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands.”

Zeke’s mouth winds into a relieved smile. “Thank you.” He slumps back in his chair, his blonde eyebrows arching. Within seconds, his Mister Smarmy act returns with a vengeance. “That’s big of you, kitten.” He shoots me with his pointer finger gun. “Really big.”

You have no idea.