Unforgiven fallen book 5, p.11
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Unforgiven (Fallen Book 5), page 11

 

Unforgiven (Fallen Book 5)
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  “Any questions?” Cam asked. It was only fair to give the kid a moment to try to catch up.

  Ever so slightly, the boy shook his head, but he didn’t scream, and he didn’t burst into flames. It helped that Bruce was young, his heart and mind still open to the possibility of angels. This was all Cam had hoped for. Now he could proceed.

  He ran his hands along the inside of his wings, surprised to feel that the new white fibers felt different to the touch than the golden ones. They were thicker, sturdier, and, Cam realized, perfect for what he had in mind.

  He grimaced as he plucked a single filament from his wings. In his hand it became a huge white feather, a foot long and as soft as a kiss. It was called a pennon. At the base of the feather, at the end of its pointed quill, was a single drop of iridescent blood. It was impossible to say what color the blood was, for it was every color all at once.

  “Hold this,” he said to Bruce, handing him the feather with the quill pointing up.

  “Wow,” Bruce whispered, running his fingers along the soft white edges as Cam moved to the IV dripping medicine into Bruce. He unscrewed the tube at the bottom of the bag, then reached to take the pennon back from Bruce. He dipped its quill into the IV and watched the clear bag of liquid swirl with a trillion colors for a moment before the angelic blood dispersed into it. Cam reattached the IV and handed the feather back to Bruce. He didn’t need it anymore.

  “Did you just save my life?” Bruce asked, tucking the feather under his pillow.

  “For today,” Cam said, trying to sound brighter than he felt. He folded his wings into themselves and out of sight.

  “Thanks.”

  “Our secret?”

  “Sure,” Bruce said, and Cam started for the door. “Hey, Cam,” the boy called softly when Cam was just about to turn into the hallway.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell her I said this,” the boy whispered, “but you should tell Lilith that you love her.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Cam said. “Why is that?”

  “Because,” Bruce said, “I think she loves you, too.”

  Nine Days

  Revenge met in the band room the next morning before school.

  When Lilith walked in, bearing photocopies of her latest song, “Flying Upside Down,” Jean was trying out some crazy new riffs on the synthesizer while Luis tore through a supersized sack of Doritos. He held out the bag for Lilith and rattled the chips inside.

  “I usually try to hold off on my artificial-cheese fix until at least nine a.m.,” she said, waving him off.

  “This is brain food, Lilith,” Luis insisted. “Get some.”

  Jean walked by and grabbed a fistful on his way to set up Lilith’s microphone. “He’s right,” he said with his mouth full.

  Lilith succumbed and took a chip. She was surprised by how delicious it tasted. She took a second chip, and a third.

  “Now you’re ready to rock,” Luis said after she’d polished off a couple of handfuls, and it was true. She wasn’t so hungry, so edgy anymore.

  She smiled at Luis. “Thanks.”

  “No sweat,” he said, then nodded at Lilith’s outfit. “Nice duds today, by the way.”

  Lilith glanced down at her dress. That morning, for the first time she could remember, she hadn’t felt like wearing black. She’d raided her mother’s closet before school and found a tight white dress with big green polka dots, cinched with a wide purple patent-leather belt. She’d paused in front of her mother’s full-length mirror, surprised at how cool the ensemble looked with her broken-in combat boots, how the green in the dress brightened her red hair.

  When she’d come into the kitchen wearing it, Bruce had looked up from his Pop-Tart and whistled.

  Lilith still didn’t know exactly what had happened, but Bruce had been discharged early, and when her family returned from the hospital yesterday, he said he felt better than he had in years. The doctor couldn’t explain why her brother’s breathing had suddenly returned to normal; he could say only that Bruce was better than he’d been in a long, long time.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that my closet is not your personal playground?” her mom had asked, even though Lilith had never before raided her closet. She put down her coffee and pushed up the sleeves of her yellow cardigan—the one she’d accused Lilith of stealing but had since found at the bottom of her dresser.

  “I’ve always loved this dress on you,” Lilith said, and meant it. “Is it okay if I borrow it? Just for today. I’ll be careful.”

  Her mother’s mouth twitched, and Lilith knew an insult was brewing, but maybe Lilith’s compliment had thrown her off. Because instead of lashing out, her mother scrutinized Lilith’s look, then reached across the counter for her purse.

  “It’ll look better with a little color on your lips,” she said, handing Lilith a tube of matte pink lipstick.

  Now, in the band room, being careful not to get lipstick on the microphone, Lilith waited for Jean’s cue, then leaned in and started singing her new song. She was nervous, so she closed her eyes and let Luis’s backbeat and Jean’s psychedelic chords come at her sideways in the dark.

  It had been so easy to imagine how the song might sound when she was alone in her room, writing lyrics and inventing melodies. But now that she was singing it in front of other people, she felt exposed. What if they hated it? What if it sucked?

  Her voice trembled. She considered stopping, running out of the room.

  She opened her eyes and looked over at Luis, who was nodding at her with a smile plastered across his face, his drumsticks alternating between the snare and the cymbals. Jean picked up the slack on the guitar, plucking notes on the strings as though each one told a story.

  Lilith felt a burst of energy rush through her. A band that hadn’t existed two days ago had found a sound that was rich and nimble. Suddenly, she was singing her song like it was worthy of an audience. She had never sung so loudly or so freely.

  Luis was feeling it, too. He ended the song with a slamming, cataclysmic racket on the drums.

  When it was over, all three of them wore the same expression: smiling, a little dazed.

  “Magic Doritos,” Luis said, gazing reverently at the bag. “I’ll have to stock up on these before prom.”

  Lilith laughed, but she knew it was more than the Doritos. It was the three of them relaxing into their sound together, not just as bandmates but as friends. And it was Lilith, and the change that had come over her the day before, knowing Bruce was feeling better.

  After the hospital, Lilith’s mom had suggested they all go out for pizza, a treat that happened only once or twice a year. They’d shared a large pepperoni-and-olive and made each other laugh playing pinball on the old Scared Stiff machine.

  When Lilith had tucked Bruce into bed, he’d lain back on his pillow and said, “Cam’s pretty cool.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lilith asked.

  Bruce shrugged. “He visited me at the hospital. He cheered me up.”

  Her instinct had been to get mad at Cam for visiting Bruce without telling her. But she sat on her brother’s bed a moment longer, watching him fade into sleep, and he seemed so peaceful, so unlike the sick boy she was used to, that Lilith found she could muster nothing but gratitude for whatever Cam had done.

  “What song do you want to do next, Lilith?” Jean asked now. “We need to ride this wave.”

  Lilith thought a moment. She wanted to work on “Somebody’s Other Blues,” but thinking about it, and about what Cam had done with her lyrics, still smarted.

  “We could try—” she said, but three loud knocks on the door made her stop. “What was that?”

  “Nothing!” Luis said. “Let’s keep playing.”

  “Might be Tarkenton,” Jean said. “We’re not supposed to be in here.”

  The knock sounded again. Only it wasn’t coming from the door. It was coming from outside. The window.

  “Dude!” Jean Rah said. “It’s Cam.”

  The boys rushed to open the window, but Lilith turned away. Cam’s face was the last thing she wanted to see right now. The feeling she’d had playing her music moments before had been simple, good. The feeling she got when she looked at Cam was so complicated she didn’t know where to begin unpacking it. She was drawn to him. She was mad at him. She was grateful to him. She didn’t trust him. And it was hard to feel so many things for one person at once.

  “What are you doing out there?” Luis asked. “We’re on the second story.”

  “Trying to lose Tarkenton,” Cam said. “He wants my head for skipping another prom court meeting.”

  Lilith couldn’t help herself: She snickered at the thought of Cam in those meetings with all those stuck-up kids. When she accidentally caught Cam’s eye, he smiled at her and held out his hand, and before she knew it, she found herself moving toward him to help him climb in through the window.

  He stood up but didn’t let go of her hand. In fact, he gave it a squeeze. Her stomach fluttered, and she didn’t know why. She pulled her hand away, but not before glancing at Jean and Luis, wondering what they’d think about Cam standing there like a weirdo, holding her hand. The boys weren’t paying attention. They’d moved back to Jean’s synth and were working on a groove together.

  “Hey,” Cam whispered now that the two of them were more or less alone.

  “Hey,” she said. Why did she feel so awkward? She looked up at Cam and remembered there was something she wanted to say. “My brother’s been in the hospital sixteen times. He’s never had a visitor besides my mom and me.” She paused. “I don’t know why you did that—”

  “Lilith, let me explain—”

  “But thank you,” Lilith said. “It cheered him up. What did you say to him?”

  “Actually,” he said, “we talked about you.”

  “Me?” she asked.

  “It’s a little embarrassing,” Cam said, smiling at her like he wasn’t embarrassed at all. “He kind of guessed that I liked you. He’s very protective of you, but I’m trying not to let his size intimidate me.”

  Cam liked her? How could he just say that like it was no big deal? The words rolled off his tongue so easily, Lilith wondered how many girls Cam had said it to before. How many hearts he’d broken.

  “You still with me?” Cam asked, waving his hand in front of her face.

  “Yeah,” Lilith said. “Um, don’t underestimate Bruce. He could kick your ass.”

  Cam smiled. “I’m glad he’s feeling better.”

  “It’s like a miracle,” she said, because it was.

  “Earth to Lilith.” Luis’s voice sounded distorted through the microphone Jean had hooked up to his Moog. “Bell’s gonna ring in fifteen minutes. We’ve got time to work on one more song, and we need to schedule our next practice.”

  “About that,” Cam said, scratching his head. “You guys got any extra room in this band for an electric-guitar player who can hang high in a three-part harmony?”

  “I don’t know, man,” Jean said, grinning. “You’re good, but last I heard the lead singer hated your guts. Stealing her journal was a dick move.”

  “Even if it means Lilith wins the lyrics contest,” Luis added. “Personally, I think it was kind of a genius hack.”

  Lilith slugged him. “You stay out of it.”

  “What?” Luis asked. “Admit it, Lilith. You would never have entered that contest if it hadn’t been for Cam. If you win, it’ll be great exposure for the band.”

  “What can I say?” Cam shrugged. “I believe in Lilith.”

  He’d said it as easily as he’d said he liked her, but this sounded different, more palatable, like he wasn’t just trying to get in her pants. Like he honestly believed in her. Her cheeks grew warm as Cam bent down and picked up one of the photocopied pages she’d brought in for Luis and Jean. He read the lyrics of “Flying Upside Down,” a smile spreading across his face.

  “This your latest?”

  Lilith was about to explain a few changes she already wanted to make, but Cam surprised her by saying, “I love it. Don’t change a word.”

  “Oh.”

  Cam put down the paper, unzipped his bag, and pulled out a large, spherical object, wrapped in butcher paper.

  “Is that Tarkenton’s head?” Luis asked.

  Cam glanced at the freshman drummer. “Morbid. I like it. You can stay in the band.”

  “I’m a founding member, bro!” Luis said. “What are you?”

  “The best electric-guitar player this school’s ever seen,” Jean said, shrugging at Lilith. “Sorry, but Cam could really round out our sound.”

  “A vote, then,” Cam suggested eagerly. “All those in favor of letting me into Revenge?”

  The three boys raised their hands.

  Lilith rolled her eyes. “This is not a democracy. I don’t…I don’t—”

  “You don’t have a good reason to say no?” Cam asked.

  It was true. She didn’t. Lilith had a million dumb reasons to tell Cam to leave the rehearsal, to go away forever. But she didn’t have a single legitimate one.

  “Trial period,” she said finally, through gritted teeth. “One practice. Then I make the final decision.”

  “Good enough for me,” Cam said.

  Lilith jerked the butcher paper off the mystery object—and found herself holding a glittering disco ball. Even in the dingy light of the band room, it sparkled. She glanced at Cam, remembering that the first time she’d said she wanted to name her band Revenge, Cam had laughed and said they’d need a big synthesizer and a disco ball. Jean had contributed the Moog, and now Cam had brought the disco.

  “Can we stop staring at that thing and play?” Luis asked.

  Cam pulled his guitar case from the closet and winked at Lilith. That same annoying wink, only…this time she didn’t mind so much. “Let us rock.”

  “Bitch, you’re standing in my way,” Chloe King said.

  For the first time, Lilith had been looking forward to lunch in the cafeteria, because she would have people to sit with. Her band.

  She’d forgotten about Chloe.

  “I was just admiring your new ink,” Lilith said, nodding at Chloe’s chest, which bore a brand-new tattoo. The skin around it was still red and raw, but she recognized the scrawling letters of Ike Ligon’s signature just above the neckline of Chloe’s low-cut shirt. Lilith thought the tattoo was ugly, but it ignited a flash of envy in her anyway. She didn’t have the money to make such an obvious suck-up gesture to the Four Horsemen. She barely had enough money for the turkey sandwich on her tray.

  The three Perceived Slights fanned out behind Chloe. Kara crossed her arms over her chest, and Teresa had a hungry look in her hazel eyes, like she’d pounce on Lilith if she tried to attack Chloe again. June was the only one slacking at being a stereotypical mean girl, plucking split ends distractedly from her blond hair.

  Chloe put a hand up to keep Lilith at a distance. “If you can read my tattoo, you’re too close. I should get a restraining order after what you did the other day.”

  A part of Lilith wanted to throw down her tray and rip Chloe’s tattoo right out of her skin.

  But it was a smaller, quieter part of her today. The bigger part of Lilith was preoccupied with thoughts of her band: changes she wanted to make to one chorus, ideas for a drum solo she wanted to bounce off Luis, even—she had to admit—a question she wanted to ask Cam about his guitar technique. For the first time, Lilith had too much good stuff knocking around in her mind to let rage overtake her.

  I believe in Lilith, Cam had said earlier, in the band room. And it had stuck with her. Maybe it was time Lilith started believing in herself.

  “You’re a straight-up bitch clown, Lilith,” Chloe said. “Always have been, always will be.”

  “What does that even mean?” Lilith asked. “No, never mind.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry I pulled out your weave. I thought I was defending my brother, but I was just being a jerk.”

  Kara nudged June, who let go of the split end she was picking and started paying attention.

  “I know,” Chloe said, a little stunned. “Thank you for saying that.” Then, wordlessly, she summoned her friends, nodded once at Lilith, and left the cafeteria, leaving Lilith with the new experience of eating lunch in peace.

  When Lilith swung by her homeroom class after lunch, Mrs. Richards looked up from her computer guardedly. “Your detention is nonnegotiable, Ms. Foscor.”

  “I’m not here to try to get out of it.” Lilith pulled up a chair next to her teacher. “I came to apologize for skipping class, for being late so much, for generally being the kind of student teachers dread.”

  Mrs. Richards blinked, then took off her glasses. “What brought on this change of attitude?”

  Lilith wasn’t sure where to start. Bruce was back in school. Her mother had been treating her like a human. Her band felt whole and right. She’d even attempted to reconcile with Chloe King. Things were going so well, Lilith didn’t want it to stop.

  “My brother’s been sick,” she said.

  “I’m aware of that,” Mrs. Richards said. “If you need time off or extensions on your assignments, the faculty can work with you, but you’ll need documentation from your mother or a doctor. You can’t just run out of class whenever you feel like it.”

  “I know,” Lilith said. “There is something I thought you might be able to help with. See, Bruce is feeling better, and I want to keep it that way. You know so much about the environment, I thought maybe you could help me make some changes around my house.”

  Mrs. Richards’s eyes softened as she studied Lilith. “I’m a big believer that we can all change our world for the better, but sometimes, Lilith, these things are out of our control. I know how sick Bruce gets. I just don’t want you to expect a miracle.” She smiled, and Lilith could tell her teacher felt genuinely bad for her. “Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to throw out any harsh cleaning products, and start cooking good, wholesome meals for the whole family. Homemade chicken soup. Iron-rich leafy greens. That sort of thing.”

 
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