“Hey,” a familiar, smooth voice says. I turn to see none other than Aaron Lopez, sliding next to me on the waxy bench in the cafeteria.
I say nothing. I bore my eyes into him and hope that he runs away in fear that I’m going to blow him up with my mind. Perhaps that’s one of the things angels can do. If so, I’m off to midway right now! I can blow up his brain from there.
“You owe me a seat. You slapped me,” he accuses, pointing to the side of his face. When I look closely I can see the red marks shaped like a small hand.
I smile wickedly. “And it was totally worth it. You should’ve seen your face.”
“I didn’t think such a pretty thing like you could slap like a man.”
“Shut up.”
“I think you owe me an apology.”
“No way in hell.”
“Or you could just give me a kiss. I’d take that instead.”
“Not if we were the last two people on earth.”
“If we were, you’d be dead.”
“Why?”
“It’d be a zombie apocalypse.”
“I can kick a zombie a** any day.”
“Right…” His voice is laced in sarcasm.
“You want to see me play Call of the Dead? Cause I’m like level five million,” I lie. I kicked butt when I was playing at Hannah’s house, but I’m not hard core. My parents don’t tolerate video games. If anything, I’m level two material. It’s not like he’ll ever find out.
“Bring it,” he taunts.
“That would mean that we would have to socialize after school hours. I have to admit, I’m a bit worried about my virtue,” I joke. “And my life.”
“I really was worried about you this morning.”
I stare at him skeptically. Why would he just randomly bring that up? I know he’s lying. Nobody, even the people with the kindest of souls, runs after people because they’re worried about them. If they did, there’d be a whole lot less suicides.
“Honest!” He crosses his heart.
“I…want to eat my ice cream sandwich,” I say, indicating to my melting sandwich that has been forgotten do to Aaron.
“Stupid Americans always obsessed with their ice cream.”
“Hypocrite,” I hiss as I dig in. Who can discriminate against ice cream? Who cares if it makes me fat? Ice cream is the second best thing in the world (hot coco being the first).
“I’m not American.”
“All right,” I say, feigning little interest. I try to shut off my brain, which is studying his features intently. He doesn’t even have an accent! I suppose he doesn’t have aNew York accent like everybody else around here, but there’s no hint of French or British in there…
YOU ARE READING
Angelic
RomanceWhen sixteen year old Sarionah Jackson moves to a new town, she's determined to hate it. Although the snow IS magical, she had to leave her best friends. Just as she's coming to terms with living in this new town, she realizes that she's no longer...
