Night World - Dark Angel Part 7

She's beautiful, Gillian thought. And then to Angel: (I mean, I am. But I ne ed ... a Look, don't you think? An expression for when people are staring at me. Like, am I Bored or Slightly Amused or Aloof or Completely Oblivious or what?) (How about Thoughtful? As if you've got your own inner world to pay attenti on to. It's true, you know. You do.) Gillian was pleased. Thoughtful, absorbed in herself, listening to the music of the spheres-or the music of Angel's voice. She could do that. She settle d the canvas bag on her shoulder and started toward her locker.

(Uh, where are you going?) (To get my biology book. I still have that.) (No, you don't.) Gillian maintained her Thoughtful expression, while noting that heads turne d as she walked down the hall. (Yes, I do.) (No, you don't. Due to circ.u.mstances entirely beyond your control, you lost your biology book and all your notes. You need to sit with somebody else a nd share his.) Gillian blinked. (I-oh. Oh, yeah, you're right. I lost my biology book.) The door of the biology lab loomed like the gate to h.e.l.l, and Gillian had tr ouble keeping Thoughtful pinned to her face. But she managed to walk through it and into the quiet buzz that was a cla.s.s before a bell was about to ring.

(Okay, kid. Go up front and tell Mr. Wizard you need a new book. He'll take care of the rest.) Gillian did as Angel said. As she stood beside Mr. Leveret and told her stor y she sensed a new quietness in the cla.s.sroom behind her. She didn't look back and she didn't raise her voice. By the time she was done, Mr. Leveret's pouchy, pleasantly ugly face had gone from a startled "Who are you?" expression (he had to lo ok in the cla.s.s register to make sure of her name) to one of pained sympathy.

"I've got an extra textbook," he said. "And some outlines of my lectures on t ransparencies. But as for notes-"

He turned to the cla.s.s at large. "Okay, people. Jill-uh, Gillian-needs a litt le help. She needs somebody who's willing to share their notes, maybe xerox t hem-"

Before he could finish his sentence, hands went up all over the room.

Somehow that brought everything into focus for Gillian. She was standing in front of a cla.s.sroom with everyone staring at her-that in itself would hav e been enough to terrify her in the old days. And sitting there in front wa s David, wearing an unreadable expression, and Tanya, looking rigidly shock ed. And other people who'd never looked directly at her before, and who wer e now waving their hands enthusiastically.

All boys.

She recognized Bruce Faber, who she'd always thought of as Bruce the Athle te, with his tawny hair and his blue-gray eyes and his tall football build . Normally he looked as if he were acknowledging the applause of a crowd.

Just now he looked as if he were graciously extending an invitation to Gillian.

And Macon Kingsley, who she called Macon the Wallet because he was so rich . His hair was brown and styled, his eyes hooded, and there was something cruel to the sensual droop of his mouth. But he wore a Rolex and had a new sports car and right now he was looking at Gillian as if he'd pay a lot o f money for her.

And Cory Zablinski-who was Cory the Party Guy because he constantly seemed to be arranging, going to, or just recovering from parties. Cory was wiry and hyper, with foxy brown hair and darting fox-colored eyes. He had more personality than looks, but he was always in the middle of things, and at this moment he was waving madly at Gillian.

Even Amy's new boyfriend Eugene, who didn't have looks or personality in G illian's opinion, was wiggling his fingers eagerly.

David had his hand up, too, despite Tanya's cold expression. He looked polit e and stubborn. Gillian wondered if he'd told Tanya he was just trying to he lp a poor junior out.

(Pick . . . Macon.) The ghostly voice in Gillian's ear was thoughtful.

(Macon? I thought maybe Cory.) She couldn't pick David, of course, not with Tanya looking daggers at her. And she felt uncomfortable about picking B ruce for the same reason-his girlfriend Amanda Spengler was sitting right beside him.

Cory was friendly and, well, accessible. Macon, on the other hand, was vagu ely creepy.

This time the voice in her head was patient. (Have I ever steered you wron g? Macon.) (Cory's the one who always knows about parties. . . .) But Gillian was alre ady moving toward Macon. The most important thing in life, she was discover ing quickly, was to trust Angel absolutely.

"Thanks," she said softly to Macon as she perched on an empty stool behind him. She repeated after Angel: "I'll bet you take good notes. You seem like a good observer."

Macon the Wallet barely inclined his head. She noticed that his hooded eyes were moss green, an unusual, almost disturbing color.

But he was nice to her all period. He promised to have his father's secretary photocopy the thick sheaf of biology notes in his spiral-bound notebook. He lent her a highlighter. And he kept looking at her as if she were some intere sting piece of art.

That wasn't all. Cory the Party Guy dropped a ball of paper on the lab tabl e as he walked past to get rid of his gum in the trash can. When Gillian un folded it she found a Hershey's kiss and a questionnaire: R U new? Do U lik e music? What's yr phone #? And Bruce the Athlete tried to catch her eye wh enever she glanced in his direction.

A warm and heady glow was starting somewhere inside Gillian.

But the most amazing part was yet to come. Mr. Leveret, pacing in the front , asked for somebody to review the five kingdoms used to categorize living things.

(Raise your hand, kid.) (But I don't remember-) (Trust me.) Gillian's hand went up. The warm feeling had changed to a sense of dread.

She never answered questions in cla.s.s. She almost hoped Mr. Leveret wouldn 't see her, but he spotted her right away and nodded. "Gillian?"

(Now just say after me. . . .) The soft voice in her head went on.

"Okay, the five cla.s.ses would be, from most advanced to most primitive, Anim alia, Plantae, Fungi, Protista . . . and Eugene." Gillian ticked them off on her fingers and glanced sideways at Eugene as she finished.

(But that's not nice. I mean-) She never got to what she meant. The entire cl a.s.s was roaring with laughter. Even Mr. Leveret rolled his eyes at the ceilin g and shook his head tolerantly.

They thought she was hysterical. Witty. One of those types who could break up a whole cla.s.sroom. (But Eugene-) (Look at him.) Eugene was blus.h.i.+ng pink, ducking his head.Grinning. He didn't look embarra.s.sed or hurt; he actually looked pleased at t he attention.

It's still wrong, a tiny voice that wasn't Angel's seemed to whisper. But i t was drowned out by the laughter and the rising warmth inside Gillian. She 'd never felt so accepted, so included. She had the feeling that now people would laugh whenever she said something even marginally funny. Because the y wanted to laugh; they wanted to be pleased by her-and to please her.

(Rule One, dragonfly. A beautiful girl can tease any guy and make him like i t. No matter what the joke is. Am I right or am I right?) (Angel, you're always right.) She meant it with all her heart. She had never imagined that guardian angels could be like this, but she was glad beyond w ords that they were and that she had one on her side.

At break the miracles continued. Instead of hurrying out the door as she nor mally did, she found herself walking slowly and lingering in the hall. She c ouldn't help it, both Macon and Cory were in front of her, talking to her.

"I can have the notes ready for you this weekend," Macon the Wallet was s aying. "Maybe I should drop them by your house." His heavy-lidded eyes se emed to bore into her and the sensual droop to his mouth became more p.r.o.n ounced.

"No, I've got a better idea," Cory was saying, almost dancing around the tw o of them. "Mac, m'man, don't you think it's about time you had another party? I mean, it's been weeks, and you've got that big house. . . .

How about Sat.u.r.day, and I'll round up a keg and we can all get to know Jill b etter." He gestured expansively.

"Good idea," Bruce the Athlete said cheerfully from behind Gillian. "I'm fr ee Sat.u.r.day. What about you-Jill?" He draped a casual arm around her should er.

"Ask me Friday," Gillian said with a smile, repeating the whispered words in her mind. She shrugged off the arm on her own volition. Bruce belonge d to Amanda.

A party for me, Gillian thought dazedly. All she'd wanted was to get invited to a party given by these kids-she'd never imagined being the focus of one.

She felt a stinging in her nose and eyes and a sort of desperation in her s tomach. Things were happening almost too fast.

Other people were gathering around curiously. Incredibly, she was at the cen ter of a crowd and everyone seemed to be either talking to her or about her.

"Hey, are you new?"

"That's Gillian Lennox. She's been here for years."

"I never saw her before."

"You just never noticed her before,"

"Hey, Jill, how come you lost your biology book?""Didn't you hear? She fell in a creek trying to save some kid. Almost drown ed."

"I heard David Blackburn pulled her out and had to give her artificial respira tion."

"1 heard they were parked on Hillcrest Road this morning."

It was intoxicating, exhilarating. And it wasn't just guys who were gathered around her. She would have thought that the girls would be jealous, spitefu l, that they'd glare at her or even all walk away from her in one ma.s.s snub.

But there was Kimberlee Cherry, Kim the Gymnast, the bubbly, sparkly littl e dynamo with her sun-blond curls and her baby-blue eyes. She was laughing and chattering. And there was Steffi Lockhart the Singer, with her cafe a u lait skin and her soulful amber eyes, waving an expressive hand and beam ing.

Even Amanda the Cheerleader, Bruce Faber's girlfriend, was in the group. Sh e was flas.h.i.+ng her healthy, wide smile and tossing her s.h.i.+ny brown hair, he r fresh face glowing.

Gillian understood suddenly. The girls couldn't hate her, or couldn't show it if they did. Because Gillian had status, the instant and una.s.sailable status that came from being beautiful and having guys fall all over themselves for her. She was a rising star, a force, a power to be reckoned with. And any gir l who snubbed her was risking a nick in her own popularity if Gillian should decide to retaliate. They were afraid not to be nice to her.

It was dizzying, all right. Gillian felt as beautiful as an angel and as dangerous as a serpent. She was riding on waves of energ y and adulation.

But then she saw something that made her feel as if she had suddenly stepped off a cliff.

Tanya had David by the arm and they were walking away down the hall.

CHAPTER 8.

Gillian stood perfectly still and watched David disappear around a corner.

(It's not time for the plan yet, kid. Now buck up. A cheery face is worth dia monds.) Gillian tried to put on a cheery face.

The strange day continued. In each cla.s.s, Gillian appealed to the teacher fo r a new book. In each cla.s.s, she was bombarded with offers of notes and othe r help. And through it all Angel whispered in her ear, always suggesting jus t the right thing to say to each person. He was witty, irreverent, occasiona lly cutting-and so was Gillian.

She had an advantage, she realized. Since n.o.body had ever noticed her befor e, it was almost like being a new girl. She could be anything she wanted to be, present herself as anyone, and be believed.(Like Cinderella at the ball. The mystery princess.) Angel's voice was amuse d but tender.

In journalism cla.s.s, Gillian found herself beside Daryl Novak, a languid gi rl with sloe eyes and drooping contemptuous lashes. Daryl the Rich Girl, Da ryl the World-weary World Traveler. She talked to Gillian as if Gillian kne w all about Paris and Rome and California.

At lunch, Gillian hesitated as she walked into the cafeteria. Usually she s at with Amy in an obscure corner at the back. But recently Eugene had been sitting with Amy, and up front she could see a group that included Amanda t he Cheerleader, Kim the Gymnast, and others from The Clique. David and Tany a were at the edge. (Do I sit with them? n.o.body asked me.) (Not with them, my little rutabaga. But near them. Sit at the end of that table just beside them. Don't look at them as you walk by. Look at your lunch. Start eating it.) Gillian had never eaten her lunch alone before-or at least not in a public pl ace. On days Amy was absent, if she couldn't find one of the few other junior s she felt comfortable with, she snuck into the library and ate there.

In the old days she would have felt horribly exposed, but now she wasn't rea lly alone; she had Angel cracking jokes in her ear. And she had a new confid ence. She could almost see herself eating, calm and indifferent to stares, t houghtful to the point of being dreamy. She tried to make her movements a li ttle languid, like Daryl the Rich Girl's.

(And I hope Amy doesn't think I'm snubbing her. I mean, it's not as if she's back there alone. She's got Eugene.) (Yeah. We're gonna have to talk about Amy sometime, kid. But right now yo u're being paged. Smile and be gracious.) "Jill! Earth to Jill!"

"Hey, Jill, c'mon over."

They wanted her. She was moving her lunch over to their table, and she wasn 't spilling anything and she wasn't falling as she slid in. She was little and graceful, thistledown light in her movements, and they were surging aro und her to form a warm and friendly bulwark.

And she wasn't afraid of them. That was the most wonderful thing of all.

These kids who'd seemed to her like stars in some TV show about teenagers , were real people who got crumbs on themselves and made jokes she could understand.

Gillian had always wondered what they found so funny when they were laughi ng together. But now she knew it was just the heady atmosphere, the knowle dge that they were special. It made it easy to laugh at everything. She kn ew David, sitting quietly there with Tanya, could see her laughing.

She could hear other voices occasionally, from people on the fringes of her group, people on the outside looking in. Mostly bright chatter and murmurs of admiration. She thought she heard her name mentioned. . . . And then sh e focused on the words. "I heard her mom's a drunk." They sounded horribly loud and dear to Gillian, standing out against the background noise. She co uld feel her whole skin tingling with shock and she lost track of the story Kim the Gymnast was telling.

(Angel-who said that? Was it about me-my mom?) She didn't dare look behi nd her.

"-started drinking a few years ago and having these hallucinations-"

This time the voice was so loud that it cut through the banter of Gillian's group. Kim stopped in mid-sentence. Bruce the Athlete's smile faltered. An a wkward silence fell.

Gillian felt a wave of anger that made her dizzy. (Who said that? I'll kill the m-) (Calm down! Calm down. That's not the way to handle it at all.) (But-) (I said, calm down. Look at your lunch. No, at your lunch. Now say-and make your voice absolutely cool-"I really hate rumors, don't you? I don't know what kind of people start them.") Gillian breathed twice and obeyed, although her voice wasn't absolutely cool. It had a little tremor.

"I don't know either," a new voice said. Gillian glanced up to see that David was on his feet, his face hard as he surveyed the table behind her as if looking for the person who'd spoken. "But I think they're pretty sick and th ey should get a life."

There was the cold glint in his eyes that had given him his reputation as a t ough guy. Gillian felt as if a hand had steadied her. Grat.i.tude rushed throug h her-and a longing that made her bite down on her lip.

"I hate rumors, too," J.Z. Oberlin said in her absent voice. J. Z. the Model was the one who looked like a Calvin Klein ad, breathlessly s.e.xy and rather blank, but right now she seemed oddly focused. "Somebody was putting around the rumor last year that I tried to kill myself. I never did find out who s tarted it." Her hazy blue-green eyes were narrowed.

And then everyone was talking about rumors, and people who spread rumors , and what sc.u.m they were. The group was rallying around Gillian.

But it was David who stood up for me first, she thought.

She had just looked over at him, trying to catch his eye, when she heard the tinkling noise.

It was almost musical, but the kind of sound that draws attention immediate ly in a cafeteria. Somebody had broken a gla.s.s. Gillian, along with everyon e else, glanced around to see who'd done it.

She couldn't see anybody. No one had the right expression of dismay, no o ne was focused on anything definite. Everybody was looking around in search mode.

Then she heard it again, and two people standing near the cafeteria doors l ooked down and then up.

Above the doors, far above, was a semi-circular window in the red brick. As G illian stared at the window she realized that light was reflecting off it odd ly, almost prismatically. There seemed to be crazy rainbows in the gla.s.s. . .

And something was sparkling down, falling like a few specks of snow. It hit the ground and tinkled, and the people by the door stared at it on the cafet eria floor. They looked puzzled.

Realization flashed on Gillian. She was on her feet, but the only words tha t she could find were, "Oh, my G.o.d!"

"Get out! It's all going to go! Get out of there!" It was David, waving at the people under the window. He was running toward them, which was stupid, Gillian thought numbly, her heart seeming to stop.

Other people were shouting. Cory and Amanda and Bruce-and Tanya. Kim the G ymnast was shrieking. And then the window was going, chunks of it falling almost poetically, raining and crumbling, s.h.i.+ning and cras.h.i.+ng. It fell an d fell and fell. Gillian felt as if she were watching an avalanche in slow motion.

At last it was over, and the window was just an arch-shaped hole with jagged teeth clinging to the edges. Gla.s.s had flown and bounced and skittered all over the cafeteria, whe re it lay like hailstones. And people from tables amazingly distant were exa mining cuts from ricocheting bits.

But n.o.body had been directly underneath, and n.o.body seemed seriously hurt .

(Thanks to David.) Gillian was still numb, but now with relief. (He got them a ll out of the way in time. Oh, G.o.d, he isn't hurt, is he?) (He's fine. And what makes you think he did it all alone? Maybe I had some part. I can do that, you know-put it into people's heads to do things. And they never even know I'm doing it.) Angel's voice sounded almost-well-pique d.

(Huh? You did that? Well, that was really nice of you.) Gillian was watchi ng David across the room, watching Tanya examine his arm, nod, shrug, look around.

He's not hurt. Thank heaven. Gillian felt so relieved it was almost painful.

It was then that it occurred to her to wonder what had happened.

That window-before the gla.s.s fell it had looked just like the mirror in her b athroom. Evenly shattered from side to side, spidery cracks over every inch o f the surface.

The bathroom mirror had cracked while Tanya was being catty about Gillian's room. Now Gillian remembered the last thing she'd wanted to ask Angel la st night. It had been about how the mirror came to do that.