Part 10 (1/2)

Asher's not at school the next day. Or the next. It bothers me for some reason. I barely know him, yet knots wind in my stomach every time I think about him. It's like I've become obsessed and I don't like it.

I'm in the library, tucked in the table in the farthest corner, writing poetry about my frustration.

In the midst of a foggy field, the answers are hidden But the impossible journey deems them forbidden ”Have I told you how much I'm sorry,” Raven says, sliding a candy bar across the table.

I glance up from my journal. ”How many times are you going to apologize?” I pick up the candy bar. ”My teeth are going to rot out if you keep it up.”

”As long as it takes for you to accept it.” She takes a magazine out of her bag. ”So what does Mr. Reynolds want us to do in here?”

”He said something about doing research on our science project.” I point the pen at the computers. ”But the computers are full, so I thought I'd hang out and do some writing instead.”

”What are you writing about?” She moves the strap of her tank top over a little and peels a layer of skin off her shoulder blade.

I scratch the t.i.tle The Unknown on the top of the page. ”Stuff. Life... You know you should really get that looked at. I really do think it's infected.”

She flicks the skin onto the floor. ”I did and the doctor said it's fine.” Her eye twitches and she pretends to pluck some mascara from her eyelashes.

Swirling the pen on the top of the paper, I sketch a poorly drawn angel. ”You can die from infections. Do you know that?”

She peels another layer of skin off, and it's like she's molting. ”But you know when I'm really going to die and if it was from the infection, you'd make me go to the hospital.”

She has me there. Under the t.i.tle of my poem, I write: The Reaper of Death, the Angel of Life.

They walk together in day and night.

”Raven, have you ever heard of a Grim Angel?” I ask.

She drums her manicured nails on the table as she considers this. ”Maybe... in one of the books I looked through when I was doing my angel painting project. But I can't remember exactly what it is. Why? What's up?”

”I was just looking through some stuff on the internet the other night and I came across a drawing of one. I've never heard of them before, though.”

”Why were you looking up angel stuff on the internet?”

”For a poem I'm working on,” I lie breezily. ”Do you still have those books?”

She shakes her head as she twists her pink hair up. ”I returned them to the town library and they had to special order them, so I don't even know if they're still there.”

I drop my voice as the librarian walks by. ”Do you remember anything about them at all?”

She turns a page of her magazine. ”Only that they are a mix between a Grim Reaper and an Angel of Death. And that they're super crazy most of the time.”

”How exactly are they supposed to be crazy?” I ask. ”I mean, what defines them as being insane? Do they do weird things or rant incoherent thoughts?”

”The books said that they used to sneak around killing innocent people and stealing their souls,” she explains. ”Like it was a game or something. And they suffered from hallucinations.”

I need to get my hands on those books. I make a note on the paper to go to the library and underline it.

”So what's up with you and Asher?” She abruptly changes the topic.

I stop drawing and glance up. ”What do you mean?”

She presses me with a look from over the magazine. ”Don't play dumb with me, Ember Rose Edwards. You know what I'm talking about-our knight in s.h.i.+ning armor and the reason why you've been b.u.mmed out all week.”

”I'm not playing dumb, Raven Lilly Monroe,” I retort. ”I have no clue what you're talking about.”

She taps her lips with a wicked glint in her sapphire eyes. ”So you don't have a thing for a dark-haired stranger who rescued you from your death omen spasm and who showed you his painting of an angel... Although, by how stuck you are on him, I'd guess he showed you other stuff of his, too.”

I roll my eyes and focus on my poem. ”I thought you had a thing for him. Wasn't he the reason for your meltdown in my closet... And wait, how do you even know about the painting?”

She giggles. ”Oh Em, you are such a riot. You can't almost make out with someone in the art room and expect no one to know about it.” She dabs the tears from the corner of her eyes. ”And I'm totally over the Asher thing. Guys are like shoes to me, you know that. I wear them once and then get bored.”

I press down so hard on the paper the pencil breaks. ”Did you actually wear Asher?”

She points an accusing finger at me. ”The very fact that you ask that means you like him. So I think it's time you found out where he is. And if he likes you.”

”Raven, this isn't second grade.” I tip back in the chair and throw the pencil in the trash bin.

She discounts me. ”Call him. Didn't you say he gave you his phone number?”

”I already tried and he didn't answer,” I lie to get her to drop it. The bell rings and I slam my journal shut. ”Look, I think I need to just get over him. I have too much stuff going on in my life.” I swing my bag over my shoulder, but she steals it away from me.

”Like what?” She backs away, jiggling the bag out in front of her. ”Your life's pretty easy, Em.”

”Raven,” I warn as she backs down the nearest aisle between the bookshelves. ”Don't even think about it. I swear to G.o.d, I'll never forgive you if you call him.”

”Don't kid yourself, Em. You'll always forgive me, no matter what I do.” She spins in her high-heeled boots and dashes off.

I chase after her, fuming as she pulls out my cell phone and drops my bag on the floor. I hop over my bag and reach for the back of her s.h.i.+rt as she punches the b.u.t.tons. A girl at the end of the aisle backs away, eyes wide, legs trembling, probably thinking I'm trying to kill Raven. Raven laughs as she wiggles out of my fingers. She darts around the corner of the bookshelf, intentionally knocking some books off the shelf.

”Raven, please don't call him.” I trip over the books and round the corner. She has the phone to her ear and dodges my advance. But her ankle rolls and she falls on her b.u.t.t.

I jump on her, accidently b.u.mping my knee into hers, and kicking a row of books to the floor with my boot. Her death pours through me, but I breathe through it. ”Give me my phone back.”

She giggles as I try to pry the phone from her fingers. On her back, she pushes herself across the floor with her feet and I crawl after her.

”Hi, Asher, this is Raven,” she says into the phone and I narrow my eyes. ”Call Ember when you get the chance. She needs to know if you're okay and if you like her, because it's driving her crazy. Literally.”

I pinch her arm. ”You are the worst friend ever.”

”Ow...” She laughs, throwing her head back. Tears of laughter flood her eyes as she keeps talking in the phone. ”In fact, it's a matter of life or death-she has to know ASAP.” She hangs up the phone.

I glare at her and rip the phone from her hand. ”Thanks a lot. Now he's going to think I'm insane.”

”Aren't you?” She flutters her eyelashes innocently. ”Besides, I was just trying to help. And it shouldn't bother you what other people think. You've been through a lot worse than some guy thinking you're a stalker.”

I roll to my back, putting distance from her and her death. ”I don't know why I care, but I do.”

”I wouldn't get your hopes up,” she says in a heavy-weighted tone. ”Guys like Asher don't really look at girls like you. They're more my type.”