Everyday Angel #1: New Beginnings Read online

“I live nearby,” said Aria. “And I thought I’d come and say hi. So … hi.”

  “Hi,” said Gabby. A moment of silence fell between them. Aria waited. Gabby fidgeted. Finally she said, “You want to come upstairs?”

  Aria smiled. “I’d love to.”

  She hopped up the steps but hesitated at the entrance. What if she still couldn’t go in? But then Gabby held the door open for her and said, “You coming?” and Aria’s shoe crossed the threshold without any resistance. She smiled and followed Gabby inside.

  “Here we are,” said Gabby when they reached her apartment.

  Aria looked around. She’d never been in a home before, but she’d imagined it would feel … homier.

  Gabby kicked off her shoes by the door, and Aria did the same. She started to follow Gabby toward her room when she noticed a photo in the hall and stopped. It was the only decor in the hallway, and it had obviously been taken before Marco got sick. Gabby and Marco and their mom were all sitting around a table in a big backyard, wooded hills behind them. The photo wasn’t faded, but there was something about it that made them seem far away. Gabby’s mom was in the middle, her arms around her children, and they were all smiling.

  “It’s weird, right?” said Gabby, coming up beside her. “How different we look.” She reached out and touched her fingertips to the glass. “We were a team until …” Her words fell away, and so did her fingers. “My room’s this way.”

  Aria thought Gabby’s room was nice — she didn’t have any others to compare it to — but nothing about it really screamed Gabby. Then again, nothing about Gabby screamed Gabby yet. That was the problem. Aria thought about turning one of the walls a color — they were all a soft white — but she didn’t know which color to make it, and besides, that might be hard to explain, so she held off.

  Gabby flopped down on her bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Aria wandered around the room, taking in the details. Gabby’s closet door was open, and Aria could see dozens of outfits inside. Shirts and pants and skirts and shoes. Aria looked down at her own ensemble. It had never occurred to her to change. Aria made a mental note to do so at some point. She turned back toward the room. There was a radio on the table by Gabby’s bed, and Aria crossed to it, mesmerized, and began pressing buttons, searching through stations.

  “So you came just to say hi?” asked Gabby.

  “I didn’t want you to think I’d bailed on you,” said Aria. “I fell asleep at the hospital.”

  Songs poured and crashed and seeped and sprang out of the radio as Aria clicked through.

  “Can I ask you something?” said Gabby, getting suddenly quieter. “Why are you hanging out with me?”

  Aria looked up from the radio, surprised. Gabby’s smoke was swirling around her again, and Aria could practically hear the doubt spilling out of Gabby’s head before she spoke.

  “Is it because of my brother?” Gabby asked quickly.

  Aria shook her head. “No. It doesn’t have anything to do with Marco.”

  “Is it because you feel sorry for me?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why?” pressed Gabby.

  Aria chewed her lip. “Because I want to help.”

  “So you do feel sorry for me.”

  “No,” said Aria. “But I can tell you’re going through a hard time, and I’m hanging out with you because I want to. Because I think you’re really cool, even if you can’t see it.”

  Gabby blushed, her eyes going to her bedspread. She mumbled something that sounded like, “No, I’m not.”

  “You are, too. The thing is,” said Aria, searching for the words, “I have this … this superpower.”

  The corner of Gabby’s mouth twitched. “No, you don’t.”

  “I do!” said Aria cheerfully. “When I look at someone, I can see the way they are and the way they’re going to be.” It wasn’t a lie, thought Aria. Not really. After all, she could see Gabby’s smoke, and she knew she’d be better, happier, brighter, once the smoke was gone.

  “And when you look at me?” asked Gabby.

  “I see someone who’s going to be amazing.”

  Gabby smiled, and the smoke around her wavered ever so slightly. “You really think so?”

  “Yeah,” said Aria. “I do.”

  Aria landed on a pop station, filling the room with cheerful music. She fell into a cushy chair in the corner and pulled out her homework. It seemed silly to do it, but as long as Aria was helping Gabby, she figured she was a student. For a second she wondered what would happen when it was over and time for her to go, but she pushed the thought away.

  Gabby started humming along to the song on the radio. Aria didn’t know the words, but she tried to sing along. She wasn’t much good at it, but it didn’t stop her from trying, and the two ended up giggling more than once when Aria managed to both be totally off-key and replace all the words with nonsense ones at the same time.

  A couple hours later, Aria was in the middle of a particularly horrible sing-a-long when Gabby’s phone rang. Gabby’s smoke coiled around her, tensing, as she answered.

  “Mom? Is everything okay?” The voice on the other end said something, and Gabby’s shoulders relaxed visibly and then slumped. She mumbled something in Spanish and hung up.

  “Everything all right?” asked Aria.

  Gabby nodded. “She’s going to stay awhile longer. Told me to go to bed.” She yawned and looked at the clock. Aria could tell that it was time for her to leave.

  “I better get going,” she said.

  “Do you need to call someone to come get you?”

  “No,” said Aria. “I don’t live that far away.”

  Gabby looked out the window at the dark. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

  Aria shook her head. “No,” she said with a smile. “I’ll let myself out.”

  “Hey,” said Gabby when Aria had reached the bedroom door. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” asked Aria.

  “For sticking with me.”

  Aria beamed. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” she said before slipping into the hall. She got to the front door and saw her shoes sitting in the foyer. Then she hesitated. Did she have to go? Would Gabby’s mom come home? Would Gabby be all alone? It didn’t seem right to leave Gabby by herself, not if she didn’t have to, and even if Gabby couldn’t see her, maybe she would feel less alone if Aria were there.

  Aria made her decision. She slid into her shoes and considered her teal laces for a moment before willing them, along with the rest of her, to disappear.

  “You pick,” said Gabby at lunch the next day.

  Aria was looking over the club list again. That morning, she’d managed to duck out of the apartment while Gabby was in the shower and met her on the front steps of the apartment building so they could ride the bus together. She’d even summoned up some new clothes and was now sporting a pair of jeans and a striped T-shirt.

  The girls were at their table in the cafeteria, and Aria was determined to find Gabby the right after-school activity.

  “I’m not picking,” said Aria, “it has to be your choice.”

  “Why?” pressed Gabby. “It’s your club time, too. You have just as much right to pick.”

  “You’re only saying that,” said Aria, poking the food on her tray (it was all orange), “because you don’t want to choose.”

  Gabby sighed. “How am I supposed to?” she asked. “If the whole idea is to try something new, then I have to choose something I don’t know if I’ll like. It would be easier to just pick at random.”

  Aria brightened. “Okay! We’ll do that.”

  “Wait, no,” said Gabby, “I don’t actually —”

  Aria held up her hand. “This is a good idea,” she said. She grabbed a pencil from her backpack, and she quickly counted the number of remaining options: eleven. She then numbered the activities out of order.

  “Pick a number,” Aria told Gabby, “one to eleven.”

  �
��But there are things on there that —”

  “It’s only Tuesday,” said Aria, “and you said we have all week. If we don’t like the club today, we’ll pick a new one tomorrow. It’ll be fun.”

  Gabby took a deep breath. “Okay. Seven.”

  Aria turned the paper around to show her what she’d chosen. Dance.

  “Dance?” asked Gabby nervously. “But I don’t know how.”

  “Perfect!” said Aria. “Neither do I!”

  Dance did not go well.

  Aria really liked it, but Gabby hated the mirrors in the studio. Every time she began to relax, even a little, she’d catch sight of her reflection and get self-conscious all over again.

  The next day, they tried yearbook (option eight), which was a total bust because Aria wasn’t very good with computers, having never seen one, and Gabby didn’t know anything about the school or its students.

  Thursday afternoon, they found themselves in painting (option two), and things weren’t going much better. Aria was getting nervous because Gabby still hadn’t found something that was hers, and they were running out of options, and out of time.

  Aria sat at her easel and swirled the pigments on her palette. She liked the idea of painting but was frustrated by the fact that mixing two, three — even four — awesome colors didn’t always result in a more awesome color. In fact, most of the time it just resulted in brown. She frowned down at the mess on her tray while one easel over Gabby seemed to be struggling with her own paints.

  “Find form,” the teacher told Aria when she saw the abstract swirls on the paper.

  “Let go,” the teacher told Gabby when she saw the rigid shapes on hers. Gabby’s smoke rippled with frustration.

  This definitely wasn’t the right club, and Aria was almost relieved when Gabby turned toward her too fast and accidentally painted a streak of red across the yellow sundress Aria was wearing.

  “I’m so sorry!” said Gabby, scrambling for paper towels, but Aria only smiled and waved her way.

  “It’s fine, don’t worry,” she said. “It’ll come out.”

  Before Gabby could say anything else, Aria ducked out of the studio and ran her hand over the stain, the color vanishing with her touch, leaving the dress beneath spotless. Aria sighed and leaned back against the wall. If only fixing Gabby’s problems were that easy.

  One day left, she thought, pulling the list of options from her dress pocket. There had to be something here.

  And then, just as she was about to head back into the art room, Aria heard the singing. It was soft and far away, and she followed it through the halls until she found a door covered in music notes, just like Gabby’s journal. Aria pressed her ear to the door, listened, and smiled. A bunch of different voices were singing together inside the room. It was beautiful. She’d liked the music pouring out of Gabby’s radio, but this was better.

  Gabby could do this, thought Aria, pulling back.

  Gabby would be so good at this.

  Aria had heard Gabby humming when she walked and when she did homework and when she showered. She sounded great, but she did it only when she thought she was alone. And that was Gabby’s problem, wasn’t it?

  But this. This could be her solution.

  Aria hurried back to class, bouncing with excitement because she finally knew how to help Gabby find her voice.

  The next day at lunch, Gabby picked number six.

  “Let’s see….” said Aria, squinting at the list. “That’s choir!”

  Gabby frowned. “I thought choir was number three.”

  Aria waved her hand. “No, it was totally number six.”

  “I don’t know about this,” said Gabby when they reached the music room. When she first saw the music notes covering the door, her spirits began to rise. But her excitement quickly gave way to nerves as she heard the students laughing and chatting on the other side of the door.

  “Come on, Gabby,” said Aria, rocking from heel to toe. “It’ll be fun. And besides, you have a great voice. You’re always humming.”

  “That’s humming, Aria. This is singing. In front of people. There’s a big difference.”

  The difference was that humming made her feel calm. The thought of singing in front of people made her feel sick.

  “It’s singing with people,” said Aria. “And really singing is just humming with more words.”

  Gabby hesitated. But it was Friday, which meant it was the last day to test out activities, and she was running out of chances. She took the smallest possible step toward the door and stopped. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but singing isn’t exactly your greatest strength.”

  “Lucky for you, I don’t mind looking silly,” said Aria.

  Gabby’s shoulders loosened as she laughed, and before she could come up with another protest, Aria put her hands on her back and pushed her into the room.

  It was larger than Gabby expected, one wall holding instruments and the other made up into a small mock stage. A dozen kids sat on foldout chairs in a messy circle.

  A pair of twin girls was trying to land candy in each other’s mouths. Gabby recognized them from math class, and knew their names were Emmie and Ellie but couldn’t remember who was who.

  A boy she didn’t know was lying on the floor with his head on his backpack, wearing massive headphones. Another boy was rapping to a group of three girls huddled in a circle, all clearly pretending to ignore him. Gabby remembered seeing the trio in the hall the first day, elbows linked even then in a way that very clearly said This group is closed.

  The trio turned as a group, sizing up Gabby and Aria as they came in. Gabby could feel herself starting to shrink when someone laughed loudly. Gabby looked over to see the tall blond girl from English class. Charlotte. They’d said only a handful of words to each other all week, but she’d always seemed friendly. Today she was chatting with a boy nearly a foot shorter than Gabby, and he was passing a soccer ball from hand to hand as they talked.

  When Charlotte caught sight of Gabby, she waved but didn’t interrupt the boy, who was gesturing enthusiastically, clearly telling a story.

  Just then the door swung open again and a woman came in on a wave of sound. Her bracelets chimed and her earrings tinkled and her skirts shhhhshhhed and her voice when she spoke had a musical rhythm.

  “Afternoon, my dears,” she said. “I’m Ms. Riley. Gather ’round.” The room filled with the sound of scraping chairs as the kids made a tighter, cleaner circle, and Gabby and Aria joined the group.

  “We have a few new songbirds today, I see,” said Ms. Riley, nodding at Gabby, Aria, and the boy who’d been lying on the floor and was now sitting in a chair, headphones hanging around his neck. “Whatever brings you here, welcome. I hope I’m not a last resort.” Ms. Riley clapped her hands. “Now, let’s loosen up those voices and those nerves and play a singing game.”

  Gabby fidgeted nervously in her seat, but Aria gave her an encouraging smile. Ms. Riley passed out a few pages of songs and explained the rules. The whole group would sing the first stanza and the chorus, and then they’d go around the circle, each singing a line, then everyone would do the chorus, and so on.

  “A vocal hot potato!” Ms. Riley explained excitedly, and Gabby realized she liked this teacher. “Charlotte,” Ms. Riley said. “We’ll start with you.”

  “You want me on piano?” asked the short boy with the soccer ball.

  “Not right now, Sam,” said Ms. Riley. “Voices only at the moment. Ready? Let’s go.”

  Charlotte cleared her throat, and began to sing. Her voice was beautiful and clear as a bell, and Gabby started to think she’d made a horrible mistake, letting Aria drag her here. Her chest tightened at the thought of singing after Charlotte. But then the song passed to Sam. Sam was nowhere near as good, but he fumbled cheerfully through the line. He reminded Gabby of Aria, the way he didn’t get embarrassed or shy. The boy with the headphones came next, and he was good — very good — and th
en it was Aria’s turn and she was just as delightfully bad as Gabby remembered. Gabby bit back a giggle as Aria missed the notes.

  And then it was her turn.

  For a fraction of a second, Gabby froze. The song hung in the air, the sound dying off. Panic tightened around her chest.

  But then she shook it free. What was she afraid of? Messing up? Sam had. Sounding off-key? Aria had. It wasn’t such a big deal.

  Gabby drew in a breath and began to sing. She was a beat or two late, but she picked up the line and didn’t drop it. A rush of relief flooded her face as she got the last note out and passed the song along.

  Charlotte winked at her across the circle. Gabby smiled, and when the group picked up the chorus, she was there, singing as loudly as the rest, and when the song came back to her, she didn’t fumble it at all.

  By the end of the third song, Gabby had forgotten her fears and was actually starting to enjoy herself. She didn’t have to think, didn’t have to find words. She could just focus on the music and the lyrics. They swept her up, carried her along, and the current was enough that when she was singing, she nearly forgot about … everything. And then the song trailed away, and Gabby found herself back in reality.

  “Very good, very good,” chimed Ms. Riley as everyone gathered up their bags. “Gabrielle, Aria, Brendan,” she said, offering them each a piece of paper. “You’ll need to get this signed if you’re going to stay.” Her eyes found Gabby’s. “And I really hope you do.”

  It was a permission slip. Gabby had collected them from track, dance, yearbook, painting, and now choir.

  “Just bring the slip back signed on Monday,” said Ms. Riley, “and you’re in the club.”

  Gabby folded the paper and tucked it into her bag and was halfway to the door with Aria when someone called her name. She turned to find Charlotte and the boy with the soccer ball, Sam.

  “How long have you been singing?” Charlotte asked Gabby.

  Gabby shrugged. “I’ve never really done it before.”

  “Seriously?” said Sam.

  “You’re really good!” said Charlotte.

  Gabby blushed.