Guardian: The Guardian Part 6

"Different race," I interject.

"Oh," he says with a shrug, "that was your own doing," he points out as a matter of fact, as though it is common knowledge.

"Really?" He nods in answer, his eyebrows arched expertly.

I stare at them a little more, noting all their similarities, beyond those he's pointed out. The two of them are absolutely identical, except for skin tones and eye colour.

"So I gave you my grandfather's eyes?" I question puzzled.

"Yep, it's all you. Are they your grandfather's eyes?" I nod.

"Nice, thanks. I like them. You took your time though, deciding what color of eyes to grant me."

"Oh yeah, I remember... Sort of... Your eyes kept changing color," I say remembering the scariest moment of my life. I had no idea then that it was I that kept giving him all his features. Granting him.

"Why did I make you hot?" I ask, trying my best to mask my fear with humour. "I should have thrown in some bad skin condition, and terrible hair at least," I say, as I stare at the neatly done cornrows adorning Ariel's head, and the perfect way with which Raphael's locks fall over each other. The Sun-prince chuckles lightly to this before answering.

"Only you can answer that. You gave us these bodies," Ariel answers with a wink.

"So if I wanted, could I have made you female instead?" He nods in answer to my question.

"Ugly? Short? Fat?" He shrugs to this.

"You cannot change our nature though, guardian," Ariel says with an amused expression. "And the bodies you grant us, mirror our nature."

"What do you mean?" I ask puzzled.

"Your power is not as great as you think," Raphael interjects to say coldly, chilling the playful mood between Ariel and I instantly. "You can only mold us to our souls' image. You looked at our souls, saw us for who we truly are, and you thereafter granted us the respective human forms we deserve. Need."

There's a coldness that hangs in the air after he speaks, an iciness that not even the warm smile from Ariel, or my denial, can thaw, and is the reason for the increased cold chills racing up and down my body. I fold my hands against my laps to hide their shaking before speaking up again.

"What do you want from me?" I finally whisper. Ariel looks at me with those large soulful eyes that represent all the comfort I hunger for right this moment. However, I now know well enough not to expect comfort from those eyes. It is just an illusion.

"To live," he answers simply. I must look confused, for he ventures to add, "we need you to stay alive."

"Am I in danger?" I ask scared, looking around me.

"Not yet, but soon you'll be."

"Why? Because of what I can do?" My voice does a terrible job hiding the fact that I am still not sure what it is exactly that I can do.

"Yes, that too. And because of who you are."

"And who am I?" I ask, hungry for information. Any bit of explanation of what is going on will be great, at this point.

"That's a story for another day," he says smiling at me, while rising to his feet. I now realize that the bus has stopped at Lejtoft main station.

"See you around," he calls over his shoulder as they walk towards the doors.

When I finally get my legs to move again, I walk out of the bus. I look around me, but see no sign of them. I make my way to the next bus stand to check when the bus taking me home is coming. I groan when I realize that I have to wait for twenty minutes for the bus. I choose to walk home instead, as I will get there faster.

Maybe I should always bike directly to the station every morning, and leave my bike parked here to bike back home after school. Yes, that is what I will do from now on, I think to myself, preferring any train of thought that doesn't involve the strange beautiful creatures.

I turn up the volume of my phone, plug my earphones into my ears and nod my head in tune to the music on my playlist, as I enjoy the lovely summer evening.

I do not let myself think. I keep my thoughts at bay, choosing instead to sing along to my favourite songs under my breath. Overthinking and scaring myself will not help me now. Whatever those creatures are, and whatever they want from me, is all beyond me. They are stronger, I know it, and they will get whatever they want regardless of what I do or how much I worry about it. So why bother?

I almost walk into the trailer packed by the car in the driveway. It had not been there when I left for school this morning, or any time before that. It is overfilled with G.o.d-knows-what, with a large canvas draped over its contents and secured tightly to the trailer's sides. It can only mean one thing, dad has bought the ugly house, and is ready to start the renovation works. There are probably building materials and tools in there.

I am home just in time for dinner, and can barely stop myself from narrating about my day and the new friends I have met today, just to keep away the worrying thoughts of the supernatural brothers from my head. I of course leave out the details of my bus ride, and the curious brothers.

Dad's face is filled with an annoying I told you so look that I choose to ignore, as it is clear that I enjoyed my first day at my new school, despite my previous apprehensions.

"Archangel?"

"What went wrong?"

"I don't know."

"If you hadn't screwed up, the brotherhood wouldn't be here, and we'd be back home already. What happened?"

"You know I can't answer that. I don't know what went wrong. What she does is up to her. All I do is leave incentives in her mind, and hope she follows them."

"What are we going to do?"

Chapter 10.

I am beyond excited for my first Friday party. I have enjoyed my week immensely with my new friends, to my surprise. School is more bearable here, less bookwork and theory and more practical-oriented. We have a lot more group work and project work here than we did back home. Most of my cla.s.smates are very friendly, and condone my persistent English-speaking, to which my teachers frown upon immensely, probably because they hope for me to practice my borderline pa.s.sable Danish. English-speaking is my ident.i.ty though, and I intend to hold onto it for as long as I can.

My routine today is different than it has been all week, because dad has given me permission to stay up late at the school party, and take the last bus home. Every afternoon after school this week has been spent helping dad at our new house, apart from my first day at school. I've been taking the 2:30 bus from Snderbirk directly to R, right after the last cla.s.s ends at 2:20pm. I am a little disappointed at not having had time to bond with my new friends after school, but our house is priority right now. Dad has been driving to R every afternoon after work, together with my grandparents, and working on the house. I meet up with them there after school, and keep working to the early evening.

We began by stripping off the fallen in thatch for the first two days, and piling it in heaps besides the house, that had then been collected yesterday by a commissioned garbage truck. I thought it a waste, imagining what a large bonfire it would have made. Dad however pointed out that the fumes from old, wet and mildewed thatch may not be very healthy to take it.

Grandmother always made supper earlier in the day, packing it into large thermos pots, which we ate outside in the warm evening sun, seated on some camping furniture. I must admit that I enjoy the novelty of it all, and often try to imprint the image in my head, so that I could sketch it after. However, whenever we get home, a little after 10pm, I just promptly take a shower before pa.s.sing out on my bed with exhaustion.

I haven't had much contact with Ariel and Raphael, but I've felt their presence close by. Or at least I think I have. It is a feeling I hadn't noticed before until after meeting them. A kind of very light consistent buzzing, or humming at the back of my head. It is not annoying or disturbing. On the contrary, it is comforting, almost lulling. More so when I am in R, trying to fight the intoxicating air threatening to lull me to some form of bliss. I remember however what happened the last two times I gave in to that bliss. Two ghosts, shapeless blobs really, had transformed into very powerful looking warriors right before my eyes. The memory is still as terrifying.

I shake my head to warn off the foreboding feeling that creeps in each time I think about those two, and concentrate instead on staring at the clock. 2:10pm. Why is the clock so slow today? I think to myself.

A quick inspection around the cla.s.s confirms that I am not the only one looking forward to the end of the school day. Most people are staring at the clock, or outside, or at their desks, anywhere but at the Rambling Miss Jensen. Bente, I correct myself. I am still unused to the Danish custom of calling their teachers by their first names. They call everyone by first names here. It is absolutely confusing at first, but I embrace the notion it conveys. Hooray for equality and informality.

2:13pm. Oh come on!

The bell finally goes off at 2:20 sharp, and we all spring out of our desks simultaneously in loud whoops and excited banter. A.M. rushes over to me with a large smile on her face, before throwing her arms around my shoulders in a cheerful hug, and hopping in place with excitement.

"Yippee! Ready for operation first base?" She whispers into my curly mop cheerfully. That is what we decided to call today's operation to get my first kiss.

"I think so!" I giggle back at her girlishly. We hook our hands together and walk up to our other friends, who are crowding around Mikkel's desk.

A.M. and I have been quite inseparable these past few days, never leaving each other's side as long as we can help it. I've noted, however, the few pensive looks from Charlotte, and each time a pang of guilt hits me. I didn't mean to steal her best friend, or push her out of the way. I therefore try as often as possible to include her.

We all walk together towards the main auditorium. The boys set out to set up the music, while A.M. heads on in to do something or the other administrational. I take the opportunity to try bond a little with Charlotte who is sitting on one of the picnic tables outside the auditorium.

I urge her to join me on lying flat on the table and sunbathe under the warm sun. The breeze is a little chillier today than it has been this past month I have been in Denmark, but it is still a lovely summer afternoon. She joins me, and we both put on our sungla.s.ses when we lie down.

"How much longer shall it keep being warm?" I ask her, tilting my head a little towards her.

"I am not sure, but it'll rain through most of next week," she answers. "Have you guys finished replacing the roof?" She asks, referring to my dad's building project.

"Not yet, but I think we'll finish it over the weekend. We started on the sub-roof last night, and even began with placing some roof tiles to hold the underlay in place."

"Oh, cool," she says, probably not understanding or interested in what a roof underlay or sub-roof entails. I do not blame her. I had not known what it was either until we began unpacking the trailer filled with building materials.

We fall into silence again. After a few minutes, I decide to try again.

"What will you do over the weekend?" I ask her.

"Anne-Marie and I will hangout on Sat.u.r.day. We want to get highlights," she says almost boasting. I smile her way, hoping that the two get a chance to reconnect, being that they are childhood friends.

"Oh, that's really cool! You girls have fun!" I say to her cheerfully. This pleases her, because her face lights up, and I am elated inside at seeing it. Maybe I could really make her like me, and not just hang-out with me because her whole circle of friends is now friends with me.

"What about you? What are you up to this weekend?" She asks.

"Oh, nothing as exciting," I admit. "We'll keep working on the house the whole weekend. Dad wants us to strip the whole floor, replace the drainage and plumbing, rebuild the sub-floor system and place floor heating pipes." I say, delving into the construction jargon I am trying to avoid using when speaking to her. She must think that I am a total dock now, because I almost sound excited talking about all the construction work we would engage in this weekend.

If I am to be a hundred percent honest with myself, I am excited about it. I never thought it before, but I do quite enjoy rebuilding the house, and the rough sketches I make when trying to explain to dad the visions I have for the house. He is letting me make most decisions about the house- from floor tile colors, style of replacement windows, ceiling type to the roof color.

"You are the artist, princess," he keeps saying to me. I've made over a dozen sketches on my ideas. We often Skype with mom, showing her the house and most of my sketches. Mom seems good, happy, though I often have to stop her from her guilt trips at not been by my side.

A shadow falls over my flat caramel-toned stomach as someone walks up to us, snapping me back from my thoughts.

"Hi, you two. You look dreadfully thirsty," Magnus teases, handing us two cold beers and placing a bag of chips on my thighs.

I sit up, opening the beer can nervously. I don't dare say it aloud, but I have never drank beer before. I have sipped a number of times at mom's wine, when she wasn't watching. I have also drunk a cup or two of the heady sweet millet mead, whenever my grandmother in Kenya had held a party when we were visiting. But never once beer.

He raises his can to the air shouting, "Skl!" Our other schoolmates around us do the same and I follow in suit. Skl means cheers in Danish.

I read somewhere or the other of the terrible taste of beer to new timers, so I try mask the scowl that crosses my face as I swallow fast the murky tasting sludge in my mouth, and smile up at the others. Thankfully no one notices anything. It is my first cla.s.s party and I want to make a good impression of myself. The last thing I want is to be singled out as uncool.

"How long do you plan on staying at the party, Caroline?" Magnus asks, turning towards me as he takes another chug at his drink.

"Ummh... I'm not sure, depends on how long the party will last. But I plan on at least catching the last bus home." I answer him.

"Me too, so I'll just set a reminder so that we don't get too buzzed and miss it." He says chuckling.

"Great idea!" I mumble, choking on another gulp of beer.

Sending me a 'thumbs up', he takes out his phone, taps onto it a number of times before tucking it away again.

Magnus and I have been catching the bus together every morning to school. But in the afternoons, I have been taking another bus, since R is in the opposite side from Lejtoft.

The rest of our friends soon join us, and Charlotte and I get off the table, and sit on the chairs like everyone else.

Earlier in the week, A.M. had picked a 50 kroner from all those that would attend the party, which had been almost everyone in the school really. With that money, they had bought the cases of canned beer, sodas, snacks, a couple of one-time-use barbecue burners and frozen meat and bread to barbeque later for dinner.

The party quickly picks up tempo as more and more beer cans are cracked open. I begin to feel my tension ease away and I let myself relax a little more when I finish my second beer.

A.M. plays a good role as my 'wingman', introducing me to the whole ton of boys at the school. She even goes as far as to want to introduce me to the girls around that she thinks could be into girl-on-girl. I slap at her playfully before she even finishes the sentence, and she laughs in response.

"Who knows, maybe that is your thing!" She exclaims, nuzzling her face into my hair in mock flirtation. "And I don't judge!" She whispers in my hair, before biting the bottom of my earlobe playfully.

I squeal out with laughter, losing my balance in my sudden movements, I hang on to her as I fall backwards off the bench, sending her down with me. The others' faces are soon looking down at us laughing hysterically at our awkward fall, our legs still perched over the bench.

"How much have you been drinking, Caroline?" Mikkel asks mocking, staring at the two empty cans in front of my third open beer.

"Or do the beers you are drinking just have a higher alcohol percentage?" He questions with a chuckle, raising one of the cans and pretending to scrutinize the label.

"Shut up, goof face, and help us up. I am just a light drinker!" I joke back at him, flailing my hands above me. They help us up at their own leisure, drawing out the moment for as long as they can, enjoying the spectacle.

We soon begin barbecuing the meat and breads. By the time we settle to eat, using the plastic utensils set up on the table, my stomach is grumbling furiously. We eat slowly, amid happy conversation and silly slapstick humor.

When I get up some hours later to follow A.M. to the ladies, I stumble, almost falling. I had no idea that I was that buzzed, having been seated most of the evening. The others laugh good-humoredly at my expense, but I do not feel embarra.s.sed about it, choosing instead to join them in laughing.

A.M. and I walk hand in hand into the auditorium's open doors, making our way to the toilets just beyond the corridor past the door on the other end.

"So, who is the cutest in our cla.s.s?" A.M. giggles at me, her cheerful nature hyped up by the alcohol.

"I say Mikkel, hands down!"

"Haha! Why am I not surprised? Yeah, he is very cute," she admits smiling sadly. "Is he the one you want to kiss tonight? It's totally ok with me..."

"Hey! No way! I want you two to 'hook-up' and talk... And fall in love... And have babies..." I carry on laughing as she attempts to cover my mouth with her palm to stop my verbal outbursts. We spend a little longer in the toilets than necessary, looking at our images in the mirror and discussing the boys in our cla.s.s, and whom would be the best for me to 'virgin kiss' with.

A.M is unbelievably even more beautiful tonight, I think to myself, staring at her thick rich brown mane cascading down her face. I giggle, thinking that I am probably looking at her through the famous alcohol-goggles, a phrase I have often heard been used a number of times before in TV shows. I look back at my image in the mirror and hand comb my thick curls slowly.