Chapter Seventeen

 

For the next few days, the shadows stay away. Unfortunately, so does Warren. I worry my training will never be complete.

Then, out of the blue, Warren shows up in Vera’s art class. He pokes his head right through the classroom wall and looks around until he spots me.

“Nanette! Great, I found you.” Warren passes the rest of the way through the wall.

“Where have you been? You’re supposed to be training me, and I haven’t seen you in nearly a week.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, I need a favor.”

“What?”

“I need to be away again today.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Warren doesn’t give me a chance.

“I need you to keep an eye on Ms. Kitchin for me while you’re in English class with Vera. If she starts talking about babies or birthdays, create some sort of diversion—knock over a stack of books or clang some lockers out in the hallway—anything that will change the subject.”

“Warren, what on Earth are you talking about?”

“I’m onto something, Nanette. I’m really close to solving this one. I’ve just got to confirm one more suspicion I have, and then I’ll know how to help her get through this.”

“What suspicion?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I’ve got to check something out, and the best time for me to be away is while you’re in the room with her. I don’t want to leave her alone any more than possible.” His gaze turns inward. “Especially not at this time of year.”

The bell rings and the students all gather their books.

“You’re headed to English now, right?” he says.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll be back as fast as can.” Warren pulls away.

“Wait!” I follow him out to the hall.

“Just keep her off of babies and birthdays!” Warren spreads his shimmering wings, and before I can say any more, he’s a speeding ball of light hurtling through the crowded hall.

I float behind Vera on the way to English. What on Earth could Warren have figured out? Babies and birthdays?

During class, I examine Ms. Kitchin. She looks to be in her late thirties. Maybe she wanted to be a mother but never got the chance. Maybe her birthday’s coming up, and she doesn’t want to be reminded that she’s so old. If that’s the case, what is Warren researching?

Luckily, neither babies nor birthdays come up as topics as the class begins reading Romeo and Juliet. I am, however, fearful of how the ending of this play will impact Vera. I’m hoping the not-so-happy ending doesn’t give Vera any ideas.

 

Warren is in English class the next day. He’s sitting in the back of the room, just like I found him the first day we met. However, this time he doesn’t look like a misplaced upperclassman in a freshman English class. Instead, he slumps in his chair like a guy who’s fought one too many battles.

“You’re back,” I say when Vera and I enter the room. I want to ask him a million questions right away, but his sad eyes make me hold back.

“Yup.” Warren nods.

“What happened?”

“I found what I was looking for.”

“That’s great. Now you can help Ms. Kitchin.”

Warren simply shakes his head.

“Why not?”

Warren sighs before saying, “Remember how I told you I’d been abandoned as a baby at a church?” He doesn’t look at me as he talks. He stares at the front of the room while attendance is taken.

“Yeah.”

“I was shuffled from foster home to foster home. As I got older, I asked the usual questions about where I’d come from, who my parents were, why I’d been abandoned.”

I nod encouragement so Warren will keep talking.

“Yesterday I found out how I came to be abandoned at a church.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother was too young to care for me. She was unwed and scared.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you went to follow up on a hunch you had about Ms. Kitchin.”

“I did.” His eyes are still focused on the front of the room. It’s starting to creep me out the way he won’t look at me.

“Then how did you find out about your mother?”

Warren finally changes his gaze so that he’s looking at me. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his eyes that finally makes the pieces click for me.

“Ms. Kitchin,” I whisper her name and look at the front of the room. “She’s your mother.”

“She was only seventeen at the time. Her parents had kicked her out of the house.”

“Oh boy.” I sit down at the desk next to Warren. “Is this why she...why she…”

“Why the shadows are haunting her? Yeah, I think so. I think she really regrets what she did. She thought she’d have plenty of time to have children later, but it never happened for her.”

“How did you figure it out?”

Warren sits up a little in his seat. “I’ve been guarding her for a little over a year. Last year she took off of work on my birthday. At first I thought it was just a coincidence, but this year she visited the church where she left me. Started asking if anyone there had been around twenty-one years ago when a baby was left in the back pew.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.” His gaze shifts to Ms. Kitchin.

I look at her and marvel at the fact that she has no idea her son’s spirit has been guarding her for over a year.

“I thought you and Matthew and Betsy said the Committee doesn’t place Guardians in situations that are too close to home. You thought my being placed at my old high school was a mistake. They placed you with your own mother!”

“I went to see Joshua at the basilica last night. He wouldn’t tell me why they’d placed me with my mom—only that it hadn’t been a mistake.” Warren scratches his head like he’s trying to rub away the thoughts plaguing his mind. “She’s trying to find me.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t know I killed myself. She’s trying to figure out what happened to the baby boy she left at the church. She wants to know that he grew up healthy and strong and happy.”

I look at Warren’s angelic soul seated next to me. “Oh God.”

“Exactly. If she finds out I took my own life, she’ll never heal. The shadows will come, and I don’t know if I can stop them.”

We sit for a few minutes, looking at Ms. Kitchin. I try to imagine a way to help her. As she walks amid the students, I see in her eyes a deep sadness. I’ve always seen something of it before, but now, knowing what’s behind that sadness, makes me realize how deep it runs in her.

 

Days pass. Sometimes Warren is in English class and sometimes he’s not. When he leaves, it’s because he’s trying to find ways to cover up his suicide so that Ms. Kitchin will never know her baby boy didn’t think his own life was worth living. Leaving during Vera’s English class is the best time for him to go since I can cover for him, but it’s awful for me because it means I get less training.

At first I argue with him to stay because I need my training and if I’m stronger I may be able to help him. I give that up after a while. On the days when he doesn’t run off, he’s so morose that my training barely progresses. Out in the hallway I practice bending paper clips, opening locks, and tying and untying smelly gym shoes the kids have in their lockers.

Warren tells me my wings are growing, but they’re not big enough for me to unfurl yet. Once again, I lament the fact that angels have no reflections. If only I could look in a mirror, I could turn around and see the progress my wings are making.

At night, I follow Vera home. Sometimes I’m able to stay with her through the night, but sometimes the shadows are waiting, and they’re too powerful for me to stop. Her dad is rarely home. Vera spends a lot of time typing on her computer or writing in her thorny heart notebook.

On Saturday she spends hours looking through photos on her computer. Most of them are of her and her parents. She spends a really long time on any picture that includes her mom.

Later in the afternoon, she heads to the cemetery down the street from her church. It doesn’t take me long to guess why we’re there. Flat against the earth is a simple headstone for Ann Lavoy, Vera’s mother. I’m not surprised Vera visits there, but the date on the tombstone makes me quiver. Mrs. Lavoy had passed away on November 2, two years ago. November 2 is the date I keep seeing circled on calendars.

Belphagor said Vera had already picked out the day of her death. Is she planning on ending her life on the anniversary of her mother’s death? If that’s true, I have only a couple weeks left to change her mind.

 

On the day the literary magazine comes out, copies are distributed in homeroom. Vera flips through the pages rapidly. She stops suddenly on page 10. There she finds her poem “Colors,” accompanied by a student’s drawing of the world losing all its color.

A rare smile on Vera’s face tells me all I need to know. At that moment, an itching in my back makes me want to reach up and scratch, but my right hand passes over something soft when I put it behind me. Over my shoulder, I see the top curve of a luminescent wing. I turn to the left to its twin on the other side. With an effort, I am able to spread them out. They’re not as wide as Warren’s, but they stretch out almost as far as my fingertips. I concentrate some more in order to move them, but I’m about as steady with them as a toddler taking its first steps. Probably not a good idea to attempt flying right away.

I hope Warren is feeling up to giving me flying lessons. Maybe we can meet tonight on the rooftop. The garden up there would be the perfect place to take my first few gliding leaps.

Vera tucks the magazine under her books and carries it with her all day. I’m so excited to see Warren and show him my wings, but he heads out of Ms. Kitchin’s room as soon as Vera and I enter.

“Good. You’re here,” he says as I walk in. “Watch her. I’ll be gone all period.”

“Warren, wait!” I grab his arm as he heads out. “Look.” I turn for him and wave my wings. “I can unfurl them!”

By the absent-minded nod of his head, I’m not sure he sees me at all. “Awesome.” He turns to go.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to teach me to fly?”

He hesitates. “Sure. When I get the chance.” He spreads his wings out in the hallway. The bell has rung, and the final stragglers enter class.

“How about tonight? We could meet on the rooftop.”

“Sure.” He pumps his wings once.

Before I can say more, he’s a ball of shimmering light flying through the hallway. With a sigh, I return to Ms. Kitchin’s room. She looks the saddest I’ve seen her yet. I hope Warren can solve the problem soon. Of course, if he does, that means he’ll be going the way of Betsy, and then who do I turn to for help? Matthew? Certainly, I can’t turn to the newest Guardian at school. Although there have been glimmers of Elizabeth Wolf coming into shape, she’s still spending most of her time as pure light. If Warren moves on to sainthood, I don’t know what I’ll do.