“You gonna get him a slice of apple pie?” Eli shovels another waffle grid into his mouth.
I squint at him. “No.”
“Yes, you are.” Eli’s confident grin only brings more attention to the bruise spreading along his jaw. It’s a purple stamp against his tawny-gold skin. His brown eyes watch me, all the curiosity and swagger of a thirteen-year-old unfazed by what happened only hours earlier. He brushes a hand over the bare sides of his skin fade, then the short curls on top of his head.
My own hair is nice.Only nice.An entire chapter inThe Guardian’s Guide to Eternityforbids narcissism. It’s early in the book; that’s the only reason I remember. Five hundred and ninety-two pages is a lot to memorize in sixteen angel years.
Don’t tell the Glorious One, but I’m only three-fourths throughThe Guide.
“You gonna finally tell him?”
I ignore Eli’s question, but my face warms thinking about the boy we’re waiting for. Yes, I’m going to tell him. But not the thing Eli thinks I plan to—want to—say. No, what I have to say is something that will both simplify and complicate my position as Eli’s Guardian.
Netflix doesn’t tell you what to do when the teenage boyisyour problem.
Eli kicks my foot under the table, chanting, “Micah, Micah, Micah...”
“Areyougoing to tell him that you’re—”
“No.” He shakes his head defiantly. “You can’t say anything either.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Nope.” He beams. “It’s the Guardians’ code, right? You can’t get involved or convince—”
“Influence,” I correct.
“Whatever. You can’t make me say stuff.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s right. Although, Icouldinfluence him—only slightly—if I were a Class-5 Guardian. They’re the ones assigned to specific humans needing guidance towardtheir destiny. It’s elite-level responsibility. And according to GuardianCheck, which I may have logged in to a half hour ago, that’s not me.
My profile is basic:
Micah
Charge: Elias Jerome Roberts, 13
Previous charges: None
Status: Class 3
What my profile should say:No, Micah, you’re not Class-4 winged-Guardian status yet why do you keep checking every five minutes you’re stuck here for eternity unless you do the thing you don’t want to.
I don’t understand. Yes, Eli is my first charge, but I followThe Guide. I watch over him. I yank him out of any immediate danger I sense. I heal him after an incident, even when he’s the one who caused it. And he’salwaysthe one who causes it.
Like two hours ago, when he got that bruise fighting three boys near his school. I up-nod at his swollen jaw. “You should really let me heal that.”
“Why?” Eli tips his face up with a smile. “Feeling bad about not breaking things up?”
“You know Ican’t.”
The Guideis very specific: Guardians are only permitted to interfere in instances involving physical harm if their charge isn’t the instigator of said situation. Or somethinglike that. I can’t stopallharm from coming Eli’s way. Only things beyond his control. And he definitely initiated this one. Though an uncomfortable ache throbs through me thinking aboutwhyhe did.
“Do you plan on getting into fights with Dante and his goons forever?” I wonder.
“He started it.”
“Youshoved him today—”
