In the Arms of an Angel(Raseri)

No matter hard I brush it, wet it down, brush it, growl at it, wet it down, and brush it again, my hair never goes the say I want it to in the morning, or any other time of day for that matter. My chocolate brown tresses are untamable, content to do nothing but bounce round my head in a frizzy mass of curls. I guess they suit my personality, in a way, as they are unbound by ribbons or braids, longing for the freedom to roam and to dream where and when they please. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t as annoying as all-get-out. I eventually give up and lay the hair brush back on the shelf. I brush my teeth a little too thoroughly, cursing under my breath when I see the toothbrush tinted lightly pink with my blood.

I slept longer than I usually do in the mornings, and consequentially I've got no time for breakfast. Thankfully, my mother had the foresight to put something in a travel mug for me on the counter--coffee, probably, or tea. I love both. Before I leave the house, I sneak behind her to give her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Mom," I say, and she pulls her spectacled nose out of the book she's reading to smile at me in reply as I swing my backpack over my shoulder and walk outside, letting the screen door slam behind me.

I don't know why they built the steps leading to the school, but I don't like them. It's not that they are particularly hard for anyone to climb; most teenagers in this district are so physically fit that climbing this many stairs every day requires about as much effort as blinking. It's just that when you take the time to walk up this concrete causeway, you have a lot of free time to think of what's waiting for you at the top of it. School, bullies, and another day of boring lectures full of teachers rapping your desk with a ruler because "If you're not going to pay attention in class, Miss Raycroft, then maybe you'll pay attention in the principal's office." I take a sip of my drink--hot chocolate, my favorite--and continue up the steps to start my Friday.

It's not long before I see her, getting sneered at by a group of kids who seem to always haunt the school entrance in the mornings and afternoons. One girl--I don't remember her name, Rachel or something--seems to be making fun of Hallie, although I'm not close enough to make out what she's saying. I wonder if she knows how unattractive her face looks like when it forms the expression it's sporting right now. If she did, I doubt she'd still be making a face like that. "Dream on, ugly," I hear as I come closer. I frown. "You'd have enough trouble finding a boy desperate enough to love you, there is no way you'll find your 'princess'."

If Hallie says anything in retort, it is too quiet for me to hear. All I see is her pushing past them and through the doors. Still frowning, I speed up until I reach the entrance, ducking past Rachel or whatever. One of the benefits of being me is that I don't get noticed when I don't want to get noticed (and sometimes, not even when I do want to). I nudge open the doors and immediately crane my neck to try and spot Hallie. I soon see her opening her locker, which happens to be not too far away from mine. And I never even noticed her, I think regretfully, not until I heard her scream.

As I weave through the crowd to get to her, I self-consciously run a hand through my hair, even though there's no way it's going to make me look better (I'm not sure why I'm worried about how I look, anyway--Hallie won't care). When I get there, I shift my weight to one foot and lean against the wall of lockers, scanning her face concernedly. Her eyes are slightly puffy, and I wonder for a second if she had been about to cry.

"Hallie," I tell her in a low voice, "don't listen to them. Don't let that get to you. They're wrong." I pause, taking another swig of my hot chocolate before offering the mug to her. "You know what my mom used to tell me? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.' Try saying that," I urged her, knowing it always made me feel better when I was little.

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thanks to onyx for teaching me how to do the template <333

”Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” Hallie mimics obediently. I smile, but it soon disappears when Hallie suddenly begins to cry, throwing her arms around my neck with so much force that she almost knocks me over. I stagger backwards slightly, bumping into the poor girl who is attempting to get into the locker behind me. When I regain my balance, I wrap my arms around Hallie and hug her tightly. Until now, I hadn’t realized just how small she really is; she feels so fragile, as if her bones could shatter like china if I held her a little tighter.

”I missed you, Stirling,” Hallie told me, her voice cracking. “I felt like maybe I really had dreamt you up, that you were just another princess in one of my stories. You are real though, you're right here, I didn't make up this princess, and, and...” I run my fingers through her hair and try to shush her, but she keeps on going. If there’s one thing I’ve gathered about Hallie so far, it’s that she’s very emotional, and she never runs out of tears to spare.

”I love you,” she finishes, and I freeze. Then, I swallow.

Thankfully, Hallie saves me, pressing her lips against mine. All around me, I can feel a thousand eyes boring holes into us, too many eyes. I’ve never kissed anyone anywhere this public, and my awareness of our many onlookers brings a flush of bright crimson to my cheeks. Closing my eyes, I kiss her back-- kissing is easier than talking, because I don’t have to think of what to say--attempting to tune everything else out until it’s just me and Hallie on the beach again, with the ocean wind in our hair as we taste the salt on each others’ lips. It almost works.

She pulls away, and I focus in on her rather than the many heads turning towards us. ”I’m glad I found you; I didn’t really know where your locker was,” I say, attempting to seem casual even though casualness has never been my strong suit. I reach out to wrap my fingers in the familiar warmth of hers, squeezing her hand lightly. Ignoring the stares, I clear my throat and say, What do you say we get to class?”

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My heart flutters with hummingbird wings as we make our way to class, hand in hand, and to steady it I run my thumb along the baby-smooth skin on the back of Hallie's palm. The possibility of confrontation by one of those kids who were haunting the entrance is likely, and the thought of it makes me uneasy, so I focus my attention on my feet, matching my stride up with Hallie's so that our steps form a steady, calming rhythm. It's easier to hear your own thoughts when everything around you is background music--when the slamming of lockers is only a drum beat, and the din of the school hallways is a melody. I wouldn't think about all the eyes, and the turning heads; I would focus on the music, and Hallie.

By the time we stop at my locker to get my books, we are already late for class; our kiss must have taken up more time than we'd thought. A blush rises to my cheeks when we walk in, as the teacher gives us a warning that the penalty for our next tardiness will be detention. Deciding it is probably a good idea to keep public displays of affection to a minimum when we are in class, I slip my hand out of Hallie's and sit in the desk beside her.

The next three hours of the school day crawl by as slowly as they usually do, and I spend most of them staring at the clock with impatient eyes, watching the longest hand creep in three circles around the numbered white face and wondering whether its batteries need changed--it doesn't seem to be running as fast as usual. When the bell finally sings its angel song through the halls, I launch myself out of my seat so fast that my chair goes flying backwards, clattering onto the floor. After picking it back up and pushing it back into its place under the desk, I walk over to Hallie and take her hand again, shifting my books to my right arm to rest them on my hip.

Fortunately, we get to the cafeteria early, before it's too packed and all the mostly-edible-looking food is gone. I put an 8-ounce container of milk; some mashed potatoes; and a grey-looking slice of turkey on my tray, and then I wait for Hallie to get her lunch. When she's all set, I make my way over to an empty table near the corner of the room and sit my lunch tray on its synthetic wood surface, making a conscious decision not to touch the underside of the table as I sit down; some people stick gum under there. Hallie sits across from me, which is nice--I can see her face that way.

I smile at her and dip my fork tentatively into the mashed potatoes. They taste too powdery, but I swallow anyways. Although I'm probably the worst conversation starter in the whole district, I feel like I should say something to Hallie. While I'm thinking about it, I reach my hand across the table and catch Hallie's, lacing our fingers together.

"I thought that class was going to last forever," I told her, trying to seem casual again. I really didn't want her to think I was awkward, but my efforts to play it cool didn't seem to be working. "I'm glad we can talk now."

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Confusion sparked in my head as Hallie’s smile faded. For a moment, I wondered if I was holding her hand too tightly or even too loosely—I didn’t know; I hadn’t held hands with a girl before. Or maybe she thought I looked gross when I was eating? The thought made me frown slightly. I had never looked at myself in the mirror while eating, but I hoped I didn’t look gross.

"Well, well, well. Who is this idiot girl that is with you, Hallie? How much did you have to pay her to sit here with you?” sneered a voice from behind me, interrupting my thoughts. I did a quick clockwise turn in my chair, and the sight of the group of kids from earlier made my heart sink to my feet. Today was going so well so far… was it really necessary for them to try and screw it up?

”…the same girl who just a few days ago was daydreaming about some boy? Boy, you have sunk really low if you’re at this table with Hallie,” the girl continued. It was true, I had been daydreaming about Fynn a few days ago, but I don’t know how they could have known about it. Instead of matching the girl’s eyes, I stared into my food, crushing my mashed potatoes with my fork. As I watched the off-white goop ooze through the prongs of the slivery utensil, I reflected on how much nicer things would be if our tormentor could be smushed just as easily. I wished she would shut up. I wasn’t ashamed to be sitting at a table with Hallie, or holding hands with her—why should I be?

“Don't tell me that you've actually told her you'll be her girlfriend...I mean, we all thought you were pretty cool...until now. This is just pathetic and stupid.”

I didn’t notice how tightly I had been gripping my fork until the cold, metal handle began to bite into my hand, leaving a red mark in my palm. I relaxed my grip and took a deep breath. The girl was just baiting me, waiting to see if I’d bite back or quietly take the hits she was throwing at me. It was all a game, I told myself. Well, I wasn’t about to let her win. Hallie squeezed my hand, and I looked up from my potatoes to meet her eyes for a brief moment.

”Why don’t you go back to your table and mind your own business?” I grumble at the girl behind me.

{ooc- okay, I am so so so so so sorry for being this late, and it’s not even a good post, which makes it worse. I have just been so busy lately, it’s all I can do to not quit the site altogether. }

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Everything happened too fast. I had no idea why Hallie was lunging across the table at the kids behind me, knocking aside plates of half-eaten meat mush and mashed potatoes. There had been no time to stop it, no time for me to advise her against the futile attempt at a beating she was directing at the kids behind me. Hallie had never reacted violently to insults before, so why was she doing it now? For all the damage she was doing, she might as well have been punching a brick wall; they were Careers, and easily twice her size. She realized that, didn’t she?

And then that noise, that terrible, spine-tingling CRRRACK, cut through the new-fallen silence like scissors and paper, but to me the sound was nothing compared to Hallie’s helpless gasp of pain when the boy lifted her into the air, dangling her by her broken wrist like a piece of meat. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it, and I knew I needed to do something, but I was frozen where I stood.

I couldn’t hear what Hallie’s captor was saying to me, although the lunch room was as silent as death—Hallie was done whimpering, but her cry of pain still echoed in my ears. All around I could feel the thousand eyes of our onlookers poking curiously at me, boring holes into me, but none of their owners stepped up to help. Do something, I told myself, but every other part of me was petitioning against it. My mother had told me that violence was unnecessary, that it would only get me in trouble. But what else could I do, if no one else was stopping them?

Somehow, Hallie found enough strength in her tiny body to kick the boy in the knee. When he dropped her to clutch his knee, she ran over to me, wrapping me in a tight embrace with her bony arms. The hug didn’t last long, however; I knew I had better act while he was at least a little distracted. I gently untangled myself from Hallie’s limbs, careful not to jostle her wrist. Do it for Hallie. Do it for Hallie. It’s for Hallie, I thought.

It’s just Career training, I told myself over and over, stepping towards the boy. The world slowed as my eyes scanned his bent-over body, carefully pinpointing the places I had learned were most effective for a good punch. The nose, if I was looking for blood. Or I could box his ears, if I wanted to stun him just long enough to make a run for it. But in the end, although I knew it was dirty fighting, I settled for a swift kick to the groin.

The boy buckled over with a horrible groan as my foot connected with his crotch. For a moment, I was met by a feeling of strange, almost twisted, satisfaction. That soon disappeared, of course, when Rachel(or whatever)’s fist hit me square in the jaw.

One thing was for sure, she knew how to put her weight behind a fist. Tears of pain threatened at my eyes, but I blinked them back as I held my jaw protectively with my left hand. I am not going to cry. I’m tougher than this. I’m a Career. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. This needed to end. With a final burst of strength, I pulled back my right fist and threw it hard at her stomach, aiming for a kidney and turning my hips with the punch, just like Dad taught me.

The girl’s eyes widened as she coughed and bent over, clutching her stomach with both arms. Getting punched in the kidney hurt, and I knew it. For a split second, I felt a pang of regret. Aside from insulting Hallie, all the girl had been doing was defending her boyfriend, and wasn’t that the same thing I had been doing? I’m as bad as them, I thought, but instead of apologizing, I grabbed Hallie’s good hand and led her across the lunchroom, pushing through the doors leading outside.

I didn’t say anything to Hallie until we were off the school grounds and across the street. I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t care—I just didn’t want to be in school anymore. When we rounded the corner at the end of the street, I sat down on the end of the sidewalk and waited for Hallie to sit with me.

”Are you okay?” I asked, my speech slurring a bit from the punch I had taken. My jaw was throbbing, but that didn't matter, really. I reached out and pulled Hallie into a hug, feeling better now that I was away from the lunchroom, and now that she was safe.

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Hallie’s long fingers brushed softly against my injured jaw, sending a wave of cool shivers down my spine. This small gesture of compassion paired with the look she was giving me was enough to send a hard lump flying up my throat—I had to inhale sharply to keep from bursting into tears. I hadn’t even noticed I was on the verge of crying. I couldn’t do it, though; I was the strong one, and I had to be the rock in case Hallie needed me.

"My mom used to say that kisses helped with injuries...but I never believed her...mostly because she never kissed me. I wonder if they really do help," Hallie told me. As she leaned in , I closed my eyes, listening to the way my heartbeat sped up. Her lips brushed gently along my jaw line—so softly the kiss could have been mistaken for the beat of a butterfly’s wings—before pressing into my lips and holding for a few seconds. Kissing a girl was a lot different, I had noticed, at least with Hallie—it was much softer, more gentle, like she was coaxing love out of you, through your lips, rather than pushing it into you. That’s the only way I could explain it. My jaw still hurt, but the pain was subsiding slowly, and I felt better on the inside. I was more worried about Hallie’s wrist.

”I'm okay, I think it's just a sprain, it will heal,” she said. Immediately, I knew she was only saying it so I wouldn’t worry—there was no way a wrist could crack that much and still get off easy with a sprain. If it wasn’t broken, it was still something worse than a sprain. But when I opened my mouth to protest, she continued to speak. I listened and let her vent, even though every word of her speech was untrue. I wasn’t going to be leaving her anytime soon, especially not after everything that had happened today.

When she leaned her head on my shoulder, I gently finger-combed the tangles out of her hair, shushing in her ear like my mother used to do to me when I cried, as if I could shush away all the thoughts in her head, and comb out all the worries. Thoughts of hurt, thoughts of loneliness, thoughts of me leaving her—these were useless thoughts, the kind that only got worse the more you brooded about them.

"Stirling...I-I-I don't want you to go...I love you...but I...and you...I don't want you to get hurt...because of me," she said, her words broken as if she were close to sobbing.

”Shh,” I breathed in her ear as her hair tickled my nose. ”Stop that, you’ll make yourself sick. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” Gently, I grabbed hold of her shoulders and pulled her up so I could look her in the eye. ”Hallie, I’m fine,” I told her, my voice urgent but soft. My forehead leaned in to touch hers. ”Really, it’s only gonna bruise. And if anyone tries to bother us again—which I don’t think they will—I’ll give ‘em the old one-two, alright?”

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