The Watcher (11 page)

We walked almost a block before Michael took a deep breath and said, “I’m not trying to make things difficult.”

“No?”

“You think I
want
to do this?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, but he was close enough that his arm grazed mine, sending tingles all the way up my neck.

Damn, why do I have to like him so much?

“Do what exactly?” I bristled, struggling to focus. “Meddle in my life?”

I hoped what I said would make him angry, because I wanted him to get so angry with me he’d leave me alone. But instead he was calm. “I’m trying to help you.”

“You’re trying to
help
me? Maybe you should help
yourself
. You’re the one who pushed Damiel away because you don’t want to remember that part of your life—”

“What?” He turned on his heel to face me, and I could have sworn the air snapped. “What are you talking about?”

“He said you two were in the hospital together, that seeing him brought up bad memories for you.”

“That’s a load of…” Shaking his head, he stopped himself, took a breath. “You don’t believe that, do you? You’re smarter than that.”

“Oh, really? I’m supposed to be some kind of mind-reader? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

He led us across an empty baseball diamond near our school, walking so quickly I had to hurry to keep up. “Haven’t you noticed it’s hard to say no to him?”

“I can say no.” I spat the words at him. Was he implying I was some kind of slut or something? Was I, as the girl, supposed to say
no
because it was what
good
girls did? “Why the hell should I? What if I don’t
want
to?”

He took a step toward me, his eyes blazing and yet not with anger. There was tenderness there, and sadness, and I wasn’t sure what else. I wanted to commit that look to memory. But then some kind of wall came up inside him, cold and solid as iron, blocking his true self in. Or was it blocking me out?

“That’s your choice to make,” he said.

I recoiled. “I haven’t chosen anything yet.”

“Even not choosing is a choice.”

I swallowed hard, fighting the sting of tears. He couldn’t be giving up on me, could he? “What am I choosing
between
?”

He led us around the corner, down the back road leading to the school. “Don’t you find yourself tired around him, drained even?”

When he mentioned it, I realized it was true. I’d been very tired lately. But how did he know that, anyway? I stopped walking and crossed my arms over my chest.

Turning, he stopped too, his hand clutching the strap of my bag. A lawnmower engine droned in the distance. “What if that was by design?”

“I don’t understand. Why are you being so cryptic?”

“Are you going to see him again?” he asked. “I mean, outside of school?”

Not wanting to answer
that
question, I started walking again. “Just dinner tomorrow.”

He fell in step beside me. “Don’t go out with him.” His voice was soft, almost pleading, with that strange musical quality I’d heard before.

I didn’t have it in me to be angry with him. “I really don’t get it. You don’t want me, yet you come around like some kind of knight in shining armor and now you’re trying to warn me about some guy. Why do you even care?”

“Don’t underestimate him. He’s not just ‘some guy,’” he warned. “He’s dangerous.”

My throat clenched. “Dangerous? What do you mean? What aren’t you telling me?”

He made an exasperated sound. “Can’t you just take my word for it?”

I fought back the urge to argue with him, the need to know more. He could be so infuriating, but something in me knew he was telling the truth, or part of it. He and Damiel shared a past, but beyond implying that Damiel was lying Michael didn’t say anything. He was hiding something. If he was trying to protect me, what was he trying to protect me
from
?

“You know my friend Fiona?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah?”

“You were talking to her a few weeks ago but she didn’t see you, and Damiel was talking to her in the hallway yesterday before she—”

“Look, I’m sorry about your friend,” he interrupted, handing me my bag. We’d arrived at the back doors of the school. “What you do is your choice. I’ll see you in class.”

I was being dismissed.

As I headed inside, I wondered if there really was something about Damiel talking to Fiona. Perhaps he was dangerous.
But they were just talking, weren’t they?
This thing with Fiona, could it be a coincidence? If so,
how
? And why wouldn’t Michael talk about it?

I went to my locker before class. When I opened it, a small brown paper bag fell out. My name was written on it in tidy cursive script. Inside was a delicate silver pendant, an ornate upside-down hand with a blue glass eye in the middle. Clear gemstones bordered the outside.

I was examining the bag for a clue as to whom it might be from when Heather approached. Her eyes were puffy and ringed with gray, this time not from studying.

“We’re still going to the movie tonight, right?” she said.

With all that had happened I’d totally forgotten about the movie. I didn’t think anyone would want to go. “Is it still on?”

“Yeah. We don’t want Dean to be alone tonight. Though he won’t admit it, he’s pretty shaken. He can’t see Fiona yet either.”

“Have you heard anything?” I asked.

“Her mom called and told me she’s awake now and going through some tests. She’ll be home tomorrow. I’m gonna go see her then.”

“Can I come?”

“Of course!” she replied, then noticed the necklace in my hands. “Oh! Where’d you get that?”

“I don’t know. It was in my locker. There’s no note.”

“Maybe it’s from Damiel.” Heather handled the necklace carefully, admiring it. “For your date tomorrow night.”

She handed it back just as Elaine came down the hall, and I quickly slid it into my school bag. I didn’t need to give Elaine a reason for more gossip. If Damiel was giving me gifts, he could be more serious than I thought. I should give it back to him and break off the date so I wouldn’t lead him on.

As if on cue, Damiel came to see me before English class to confirm our plans. It was the perfect opportunity to cancel our plans and return the necklace, but I hesitated. I could hear my name being whispered in the back of the room; I’m pretty sure it was Elaine. Michael nodded at me encouragingly, as if he knew what I was about to do. Damiel turned to him and wordlessly touched my hand. A rush of heat shot through me so fast it made me queasy, and the smile Damiel gave me melted  my worries.

It was dinner. That was all. What was the big deal in that? Sure, Michael had warned me, but how bad could it be? Standing there in jeans and a T-shirt, Damiel looked dangerous all right, but in a different kind of way—a good way.
Definitely not the Ugly.

“You still want to come, don’t you?” he asked. “It’ll cheer you up.” When I nodded my assent, his smile grew even bigger and he went back to his desk.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw disappointment on Michael’s face as he sat in the row adjacent to mine. I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I also hadn’t agreed to anything. I’d been warned, though, whatever that meant. But why had it been so hard to say no to Damiel in the first place? Michael had said it would be. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of them for the rest of the class.

***

As soon as I got home from school, I sent Bill an e-mail asking him if he could look up Damiel online to see what he could find out. If he had a criminal record or a dangerous past, surely there would be some clues out there. I gave Bill all the information I had on Damiel: his approximate age, a physical description, and the fact that he had recently enrolled at Westmont High. I wasn’t surprised to find Bill online. He messaged me immediately, asking
Who is this guy?
and
Is he a new boyfriend?

Recalling how he’d offered to “take care of” any guy who hurt me, I reassured him not to worry, that this was just someone at school. He didn’t need to know I had an actual date, but I wanted to find out what I could. Damiel seemed so open, and yet his side of the story was so different from Michael’s. Could he have been lying, as Michael had said?

My online chat with Bill took longer than I expected, so I had to rush to get ready for the movie. Mom and I had such opposite schedules lately that we had taken to leaving each other notes on the fridge. I quickly wrote her one. If she was worried, she could always text me.

Since I was planning to have a lot of popcorn, I had only a snack for dinner: a couple of slices of cheese and an apple. Deciding to dress up, I wore a skirt and tights and kept my hair down. On a whim, I put on the necklace. If it was from Damiel, I would give it back to him the next night. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t wear it first.

Farouk picked me up at six, and I was surprised to see that he’d dressed up too. It made him look a lot more grown-up than usual. I also liked how at ease he was. All the weirdness from earlier was gone. We were just friends, hanging out.

The movie theater was noisy and dimly lit, with bright flashing lights around the concession stand. The line-up wasn’t long, but the short, freckled girl working there had trouble with our three separate orders. She jumbled them up and got flustered. As the line grew quickly behind us, she got even more nervous.

While Farouk helped her figure out the change, Michael walked into the theater. At first I was so captivated by him that I didn't notice he was with someone: a tall, gorgeous girl with honey-colored hair. She seemed strangely familiar. A sharp pain seized my chest. This had to be Michael’s girlfriend.

“Mia?” Farouk asked.

Realizing I’d been staring, I spun back to face him.

I’m pretty sure my emotions were clearly visible on my face, because he stiffened and muttered something in Farsi under his breath; I don’t think it was complimentary. “We should go find Heather,” he suggested.

I nodded and was about to leave, but it was too late.

“Mia,” Michael said, approaching us. When he smiled at me, his entire face lit up. You’d never know we’d had an almost argument earlier that morning, or that I’d disappointed him by not breaking off my date with Damiel.

“You know Farouk,” I said, afraid my sadness over his being there with his girlfriend might show.

Michael gave him a nod. “I do. Hi.”

Farouk held up the bags of popcorn he was carrying and said flatly, “I’d shake your hand, but…”

“Quite a lot of popcorn,” he said. If he noticed Farouk’s snub, he was ignoring it.

“We’re here with the rest of the gang,” I said, raising my drinks awkwardly.

The girl Michael was with gave me a beautiful, warm smile, and I realized where I’d seen her before. She was the girl I’d talked to at the café that day I’d gone there with Bill.

“That’s a pretty necklace,” she said.

“Thanks.” I touched it self-consciously, not wanting her calling too much attention to it. The fact it probably came from Damiel would only cause another argument between Michael and me.

“Yeah.” Michael leaned in to take a closer look. “It looks Turkish.”

“It’s
Persian
,” Farouk said, edging closer, until he practically stood between us. “My sister Fatima gave it to her.”

“Fatima?” I asked. When he nodded, I tried to hide my sudden relief.

“Well, it’s very nice,” the girl said, then turned to Michael. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

I wasn’t sure if I should say anything about how we’d sort of met before when she spoke to me in the café. Obviously she didn’t recognize me. Why should she? She was the one who looked like a Victoria’s Secret model. People probably noticed her all the time.

“Of course,” Michael said. A flattering shade of pink touched his cheeks as he turned to me. “Mia, this is Arielle, and Arielle, this is Mia and Farouk.”

We exchanged polite hellos. Then Arielle said to me, “Michael’s told me about you.”

I instantly tensed, almost spilling the drinks I was carrying. Surely he hadn’t told her about the ridiculous crush I had on him, or that I was going on a date with his arch-enemy. Michael kept his relaxed smile, his face unreadable.

“Oh,” I said.

“Yeah, he mentioned you’d had a nasty fall in the woods, I guess it was a few weeks ago now,” she said. “How are you healing up?”

“Quickly,” I replied, relieved he hadn’t mentioned anything else, then added as if I was his PR person, “Michael was really helpful. I don’t know how I would have gotten out of that creek without him.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “That’s our Michael.”

Was it me, or was he uncomfortable receiving the praise? He crossed his arms over his chest, looking positively gorgeous. “You would have done the same thing,” he said to her.

“We should probably get inside,” I suggested to Farouk, “before the movie starts.”

We exchanged polite goodbyes and went off to find our seats. Heather waved when she saw us, happy that her night out was going so well—considering. Even Dean, playing a pre-movie trivia game with Jesse, seemed cheerful. As for me, I had a 400-pound sumo wrestler sitting on my chest. It wasn’t until after the opening credits, when we were well into the movie’s first scene, that I let myself cry. Fortunately, the movie grabbed everyone’s attention and whisked them away, so I had time to pull myself together before they noticed.

On the ride home, Farouk played the movie highlights over in conversation, and I was grateful for the recap. I hadn’t been paying attention. Neither of us mentioned Michael, or Fiona for that matter.

When we pulled up in front of my house, Farouk said, “I’m glad you wore the necklace. It suits you.”

“It’s beautiful! I love it,” I exclaimed. “It’s really sweet that she thought of me.”

“It’s a Hamsa—a ward against the evil eye.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of protection from people sending you bad thoughts. You know, when people are jealous or wish you harm.”

“I could sure use that,” I said, thinking first of Elaine, then Fiona. Had someone been sending her bad vibes?