“Or sleepy,” Zion says.
“Or need to use the bathroom.”
“Stop reading Wikipedia,” I caution Eli. My gaze drifts back to Zion, his amused eyes roaming my face as if he can find answers there.
He wasn’t always like this—curious about Guardians. At first, he was aggressively untrusting when Eli introduced us. It’s expected. Some sixteen-year-old “angel” suddenlystarts following your little brother everywhere? That’s beyond suspect. Also, I couldn’t demonstrate my Guardian abilities to him. That’s the thing about humans—they need visual proof for everything.
I don’t look different from anyone else. Just another young Black boy. Even if I had wings, they’d only be visible to Eli. Zion’s never witnessed me healing him or moving at supersonic speed.
I’m not sure what finally brought Zion around. Maybe it was me always being around when Eli needed help? By his side when Zion couldn’t be. When his parents should’ve been. But one day at the diner, he slid into the booth, smiled right at me, and said “Do Guardians like pie?” before begging Eli to break down the newest HBO series everyone was talking about.
Now Zion asks shyly, “Do Guardians ever fall in lo—”
“Actually!” Eli screeches like a happy owl.
A flame settles in my ears, moving rapidly to my jaw and my chest. It’s not from embarrassment. It’s a warning that I nearly miss while watching Zion. My reflexes gradually kick in and I’m at Eli’s side, tugging him forward before he backward-walks into the street right in front of a car.
“Pay attention.”
He wrestles out of my grip, fixing his hoodie. Under the night’s shadows, I barely recognize the way his mouth twitches to sayThank youbut stubbornly scrunches into a pout instead. “I’m fine.”
He’s lying. And I was almost too late.
All because of Zion, who blinks at me, stunned.
“He’s okay,” I say, more to myself than Zion.
“Wow,” he says. “I couldn’t have done that. You’re a great Guardian.”
“I’m average,” I huff as we start walking again. Eli has skipped ahead, falling back into his rambling as if nothing happened. Zion’s scent—a mixture of body creams, lemon-ginger and cocoa butter—enters my space. I inhale deeply, only focused on this boy again.
The reasons I’m undeserving of Class-4 status keep piling up.
“You could never be average,” he comments.
I stumble. Clearly, the sidewalk is uneven here. Zion catches my wrist until I’m balanced. His thumb traces my palm. The streetlamps add an amber halo around his pupils.
“You’re glowing, Micah,” Eli sings in our direction.
Startled, I wiggle free of Zion’s touch.
“Wait,” says Zion, smiling. “Are you?”
“It’s nothing,” I sigh out.
Eli shrugs, continuing to direct our journey over broken sidewalks. Zion’s hand occasionally brushes mine as we fall into step.
“What makes you glow?”
You.I don’t say it. And thank the Glorious One that Zion can’t see all the light I’m radiating. “How are your roommates?” I quickly ask.
Zion talks almost as fast as Eli, detailing all the absurd things his roommates have been up to. His voice is like amelody—a combination of chords and rhythm and a climbing pitch. He laughs like fire fills his lungs.
He stays close to my side like I’m the sun that maintains his orbit.
It’s happened before. Humans and the Above.Gabe’s words pulse in my ears from a conversation we had days ago.It hasn’t always ended happily, but...
It could happen, I wanted to whisper as we watched Zion and Eli play soccer in a park. The yellowed grass was endless, just like the growling fear in my chest.Couldis an extremely dangerous word to live your life by.
