Beauty, @((Y^!@ Allyvia [books to read in a lifetime .TXT] 📗

"How do you know that," I growled, fear building in my gut. He couldn't have possibly known, unless... unless he had done something. As crazy as it sounded, maybe he had found a cure. Maybe, somehow, he had switched off my powers.

"I was the one who shielded you," he said in a 'duh' tone, rolling his eyes. Arching a brow, I tried to dissect what he was saying.

"How? Wha-... why? How?!"

He chuckled, as though my confusion was charming and adorable, when really I just wanted to sock him, right in that strong jaw that would probably only bruise. He leaned down close, until his breath was on my neck, on the shell of my ear. I, instinctually, thought of our kiss, and felt a blush spread through me.

"Soulmates can do that," he whispered, leaving me angry and annoyed. I had heard that plenty of times before he left, and I knew, if it was even remotely true, he wouldn't have. He would have stayed stuck, with me, until graduation.

"That crap might have worked three years ago," I whispered back, gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, "but I'm not stupid."

"As stupid. Trust me, Anna, you aren't the brightest bulb in the box," he teased, although the joke was lost and his eyes were anything but the feigned confidence he wore like a mask just moments before.

"Go to hell," I spat, pushing him away, backing up against the shell of my car. A light wind whipped around us quickly, making me shiver against my jacket.

An emotion had finally won the inner tug of war that was going on in my head and heart: anger. I wanted to hit him, badly; I also wanted to hug him, and thank whatever holy power that had brought him home.

"I'm here, aren't I," he snapped back, his eyes darkening, the anger and hurt in his voice powerful against the heavier breeze that was now present.

"Well then, if it's so bad, why are you back?!"

"For you! Jesus, Anna, I'm here to save your ass!" The wind roared at that note, along with the frustration in his voice, almost swallowing his words whole. The trees rattled in the distance, and the feeling of alarm jumped around in my gut.

"I don't need saving," I said, in a shaky, angry voice that didn't exactly sound like me. He could have easily hurt me. He was tall, and strong, and had fifty pounds of muscle over me. He could have easily grabbed hold of my wrist, just  a bit too tightly, or shoved me, just a bit too roughly. But he didn't. No, he just loomed over me, making me feel trapped and liberated at the same time.

"Anna, you have no idea what's gong on, just let me explain-"

"Don't talk to me. Don't come into my dreams, or call me your soulmate, or shield me. Whatever the hell you think your selling, I don't want to buy," I said hastily, shoving him away and opening my car door. It wasn't until I turned on my car did the familiar feel of thoughts in my head begin.

You're  in danger, Anna. I'm trying to save you. Look, I know some Others, like us, and they can train you-

"And tell your creepy friend to leave me the hell alone at lunch," I said, slamming the door shut and tearing out of the parking lot. It wasn't until I was halfway home did I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.

The faint lights of Wickerville sat below us, as we lounged in his car on the hill. You could see all ten stoplights, and every glowing bedroom window and nightlight in the dark, small town. The old buildings looked like they were a part of a miniature set, like the ones you would set out under the Christmas tree. The old, worn buildings were still painted as they were over a hundred years ago. The streets were still cobblestoned in some places, like near Jake's house on Levette Street.

Levette Street was the place those big, old, triple-tiered houses rested, each one reminding me of a wedding cake. They were all white, or off-white, and had front porch pillars or stain-glass windows or fountains or gazeboes. The mansions were elegant, much like Jake himself, humbly perfect in my eyes. It was a nice cul de sac, with a fancy park a few blocks away, close to Main Street. Levette Street was pretty and safe.

Levern Street, where Grandmother and I lived, was the place you didn't want to go in the middle of the night. Wickerville was close enough to New Orleans you could smell the cooking spices and hear the myraid of French and English and Spanish and Cajun. Levern Street was where ghosts play, Grandmother told me.

Our house was across the street from the Wickerville Cemetery. I used to go there at night, and talk to Allen and Marie Breaux, their plots right next to each other. They were both almost eighty when they died, and had been dead for almost twenty years, but I still visited them, although they were nothing more than strangers. Pretending they were my parents, I'd tell them about my day and confess my secrets. I told myself having fake, dead parents were better than the backsliders I had to call my own.

Levern Street was also home to the old, New Orleans styled houses and one's that were run-down and ghetto. Everone on Levern Street spoke a different language; the Doucets' house always smelled of frying catfish and Cajun spices. They yelled out, in jumbled, hurried Cajun French, to 'git in da house before Mama gets en colair'!'.

Grandmother used to talk to them, in Cajun French, saying words like: bonne a rienne, bon rienne, canaille, capon, en bouts des dents, and envie. I used to think she could speak it fluently, until I realized she was just a gossip. Roughly translated, she would say: a good for nothing or promiscuous woman, a good for nothing or lazy man, sly or sneaky, coward, to eat something you find distasteful, a craving.

There were the Santiagos, who used to bring us tamales and sopapillas every once in a while, with dipping honey. Their son, Rico, was a few years younger than me, and used to play tag with some of the other neighborhood kids. He'd always ask me to play, whether it was out of pity that I didn't have many friends, or the obvious crush I didn't need mind-reading to figure out.

The Gaetjens were nice. It wasnt like they walked around in Hatian clothes, or garbled out curses. No, they were a pretty normal family-- for Louisianna, anyways. They're daughter, Laurette, was seven. Johanne, Laurette's mother, had taken in her mother, Fredeline. Fredeline and Grandmother often played bridge together, and smoked cigarettes on the front porch of the Gaetjens three room house. I always liked the Gaetjens; they were nice, and Johanne was stunning, with toffeed skin and almond eyes.

Levern Street, the diversity of it all, was my favorite part of Wickerville. I liked Levern Street better than the library, and the park. The pool, which tickled my nose at the scent of chlorine, was open in the summertime, where all the kids and grandparents and adults would try to squeeze into the tiny cement in-ground pool that was only big enough for a few hundred people. The tiny general store on Main Street sold everything from fishing lures to fried chicken and pigeon peas. The high school's parking lot streetlamps, which reminded me with a chill that Avery was back, were still illuminating their dark surroundings.

You could see all of this from where Jake and I sat on the hill. This, the two of us alone with the rest of our world seeming miles away, was our place. Everytime something big happened-- Jake's grandfather's death, the crazy thing that brought us together in the first place; my spot on the cheerleading team, something that we had celebrated with gummy worms and root beer; our math test, which we had snuck out of and instead laid out on a blanket on top of the world-- we would come to our place.

Now, we were lying on our backs, staring up at the stars. The woolen blanket Jake had brought from his house was soft underneath us; the stars were brighter with Jake, who held my hand and pointed out constellations.

I didn't want to tell him I wasn't in the mood to talk. He was smiling, and stroking my hair with his free hand. I didn't want to be the one to dampen his mood. Something good had obviously happened. Ever since he picked me up from my house that night, he hadn't been able to contain himself, or keep his hands off of me. Which, in my opinion, was the best distraction from Avery Silver. Although, knowing myself, I just had to open my big mouth.

"-I mean, who does he think he is?! Ugh, the guy is just annoying! He's so-"

"Vee, I get it, you don't like him," Jake sighed, the annoyance in his voice bubbling. Why is she so hung up on this creep, he thought, making me cringe. I shouldn't have been talking about Avery, I knew that, but I couldn't help myself.

My head was still reeling from mine and Avery's discussion in the parking lot. What did he have to save me from? Death by boredom? Casey's evil glares? True's sexual encounter stories? Either way, I was safe in Wickerville. The most that could harm me was Avery himself.

"Sorry. Sorry, I just... he shouldn't be here, that's all," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest and slightly jutting out my bottom lip. Jake glanced at me, a dark brow arched, a look of disbelief on his face.

"What's the big deal if he's back? You said yourself you don't even want to talk to him," he mumbled, his tone disgruntled and annoyed.

"Jake, you don't get it. He'll go out of his way to talk to me! I mean, he'll probably follow me home from school!"

"Okay, egomaniac," he snorted, the sarcasm dripping very heavily in his voice. I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth. Jake would never understand, obviously. He may have thought my stalking idea  was just my inflated ego, or maybe even a weak joke, but he didn't know the truth.

Jeez, I was hoping she wouldn't ruin this night. I was so excited to tell her about my scholarship, he thought, making me freeze mid-complaint. A wide smile tugged at my mouth, and I looked over at him with wide eyes.

"Jake! You got-," I began, my voice rising an octave higher in excitement, only to catch myself. His puzzled expression left my mouth gaping open. Ugh, me and my big mouth!

"I've got...?"

"A bug! In your hair," I cried, untwining our fingers and running my finger through his hair quickly. His brows crinkled in amused confusion, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Despite the annoyance I could feel on the horizon, he seemed to be slightly content again.

"Are you sure it just wasn't a reason for you to touch my hair," he teased, making me blush and smile.

"And now you're the egomaniac. So," I drawled, nestling into his side and pulling at blades of long grass that grew around us, "is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Don't tell her