#had a six hour chat with my mom and siblings and feeling all gooey and cozy

[intcritus]

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[welcometophu]

Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 2

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 2

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There are a lot of cars in the parking lot when Pels drops Cheyenne off at her gym. She sees parents walking in with much younger kids, and moms dropping off teenagers the same age as Cheyenne. The older moms are bundled up in long coats and thick scarves, huddled in knots outside of the building in groups that seem to be loosely organized according to whether they’re smoking or not.

Pels doesn’t want anything to do with any of them.

Cheyenne leans back in the car after she climbs out. “There’s a coffee shop like five minutes further down the road.” She makes a face. “Well. It’s not a shop. More of a drive through coffee stand. There’s no place to sit. But you could go and get something and waste some time before you’re stuck coming back here. There really isn’t much of anything else.”

“I’ll find some way to keep myself entertained.” If all else fails, she could have a scintillating conversation with Dad. He’s always good for pithy observations about her life.

“Just be back by twelve to pick me up.” Cheyenne yanks open the back door and grabs her bag, slipping her water bottle from the side pocket so she can take a long, deep pull before she slams both doors shut. “Bye! See you later!” Her voice is muffled and distant as she turns away, already waving to another teen as she runs to the building.

“Guess I’m getting coffee.” Pels starts the car up again, carefully backing out to avoid the line of cars still pulling in. She managed to arrive five minutes early, and she wonders if there will be any spots left at all if she leaves.

She takes another look at the clusters of moms. Yeah, no, she’s not staying here for the entirety of the next two hours.

The Coffee Shack is exactly five minutes further down the road, and looks like it’s just that: a small shack with a half circle driveway past a drive-up window. Pels would wonder if it’s open this early in the spring, but there’s a line of cars leading up to the shack, so she figures it has to be doing decent business.

“I miss coffee,” Dad says quietly as she pulls into the drive behind a beat-up minivan.

“I’m aware. You made me learn to love coffee because you kept insisting I go to coffee places.”

“You heard a lot of good music, and ate a lot of good food. And there was that one when you were fifteen.”

Right, that one. The one almost crush that Pels had before she realized that there was no point in crushing on anyone, since two days later Peter’s ministry took them to another state. “Oh yes, coffee shops hold such great memories,” she says dryly. “I can admit that they were a great way to get away from Peter, though. I think I might’ve enjoyed working in one, if I’d ever been anywhere long enough to hold down a job.”

“You’d probably like working in a library, too,” Dad points out. “You’ve always had an affinity for books.”

“You threw an entire shelf at a girl who was bullying me when I was six,” Pels reminds him. “I don’t think I’d want to be around an entire library of them on a regular basis.”

“We’ve both grown since then. Besides, at that age, it was better if it looked like I was a poltergeist. I didn’t hit her. I never would have hurt her.”

Pels pulls up the emergency brake since the line is moving slowly enough. It lets her turn around, putting one arm on the seat so she can look back at where Dad is watching her. “Your parenting technique and persuasive methods are both dubious at best. But you did mimic toddler tantrums pretty well. On the other hand, you could’ve made the attempt to be subtle.”

“She was six,” Dad says plainly. “She wouldn’t have understood subtle. Neither would you. I haven’t thrown anything or ruined anything that doesn’t belong to you in a while. And if you’d listen to what I say and suggest, I wouldn’t have to try so hard to get your attention.”

Pels disengages from the seat so she can turn back around and pull up when the other cars move. She’s only one back from the window, and she really hopes it’s worth it. “There are days when I envy people who can’t talk to ghosts. And who don’t have one following them around everywhere. Like. Every day.”

“You love me.” Dad’s voice is soft and low, and Pels looks up in the mirror to see him leaning on the back of the seat, his hand just barely touching her cheek. She feels the feather soft touch and sighs.

“Yes, Dad, I love you. Just sometimes I don’t always like you,” Pels says quietly. “Why can’t you just… let me live my life?”

“Because it’s my job to make sure you get to where you need to be, when you need to be there.” Dad sits back, his arms crossed. “And I’ve been doing it for almost nineteen years at this point. That’s not going to change.”

Pels would ask why, but he’s never answered before, and she doubts he’ll start now. Instead she grips the steering wheel tightly and when the car ahead of her finally moves off, she pulls up to the shack window and pushes the button so her own window slides down.

“Welcome to the Coffee Shack!” Lonnie—according to his name tag—is far too cheerful. His cheeks are bright red from the chill, and his blue eyes are bright. “What can I get you? Today’s special blend is a medium roast with vanilla cream and dark caramel flavors, and I can give that to you in coffee, latte, or iced form.” He leans on the edge of the window, getting just a tiny bit closer as his voice lowers. “You’d be surprised how popular the iced ones are, even in the winter.”

“Just hot coffee, but the special sounds good. As big as you’ve got.” Pels spreads her hands as if she’s holding an entire thermos. “I’m going to be sitting outside for a couple hours.”

Lonnie turns away, grabbing a paper cup that looks almost suitably large enough. “You look too young to be a mom,” he says. “Sister? Stuck driving?” He presses the top of a large carafe, filling the cup before he fits a top onto it and turns back to Pels. “Three dollars even,” he says as he hands it to her.

She digs out three bills to hand to him, then empties her mother’s coin supply from the cup holder into his tip jar. She can be both generous and practical; she needs a place to put the coffee.

“Thanks.” Lonnie flashes a bright grin. “So, there’s a park down that way. It’s really the trail-head to a hike, but the trails aren’t ready for that yet. But the park equipment stays out year round, and it’s probably not too busy. If you want a place to hang out while waiting for your sibling.” He reaches off to the side, out of view, and comes back with a paper baggie. “Cookie. On the house.”

“He’s flirting,” Dad murmurs.

“I get that,” Pels hisses under her breath, even though no, she didn’t. Lonnie must have heard her, because his brows are already furrowing in confusion, so she hastily reaches for the cookie. “Thanks. For the cookie and the tip. How did you even—”

“Monday through Friday is for business commuters, but Saturday’s for gymnastics. Always has been here,” Lonnie says easily. There’s a honk from somewhere behind Pels, and Lonnie motions for her to move on. “Go enjoy the park.”

It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, and it’s better than hanging around with a bunch of people the same age as her mom. Pels pulls out of the spot, hearing a squeal behind her as someone pulls into it as fast as she leaves.

“Someone’s impatient,” Dad observes.

Pels’s phone buzzes, but she can’t pick it up to look at it while she’s driving. It doesn’t keep buzzing, so it has to be a text, not a call. The only people who ever text her are her mother and her sister, and she figures they’d call if it were an emergency, so she ignores it.

The fact that it buzzes twice more, at random moments, is a little concerning. When she glances over, Dad is in the front seat, with her phone in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure heat activated or fingerprint unlocking is beyond even your capability,” Pels says.

“I can pick it up, but you’re right, I can’t unlock it. But the notifications show on your screen when the phone moves. It’s Jess.”

Pels pushes down on the gas in surprise, accelerating more than she means to. She relaxes, letting the car adjust back to the right speed. “Jess?” She’d forgotten that she’d given her her number, when they’d had lunch that one time. But now she remembers unlocking her phone and letting Jess program in her number and Shane’s.

She holds out her hand, but the phone moves out of reach as Dad holds it near the window. “When we get to the park,” he says. “No texting and driving.”

Pels drives just a little faster, and thankfully Dad says nothing. When she pulls into the dirt parking lot, parking as far as she can from the few other cars, he just holds out the phone, exchanging it for the paper bag she’s held on her lap since leaving the Coffee Shack.

Pels unlocks her phone, and three texts pop up immediately.

Ángel’s boyfriend is visiting. He is like the personification of grumpy cat. In very large cat form.

The next text is a picture of a boy Pels sort of recognizes and assumes is Ángel, with a large cat draped across his lap. The cat has his eyes closed, lying on his side and tilted slightly onto his back as Ángel rubs his belly.

It’s really adorable.

It’s a brand new text stream, and from the top of the screen Pels can see that it’s a group chat between her and Shane and Jess. While she’s looking at it, another text pops in from Shane.

I’ve been sexiled. I’m staying in Jess’s room for the week.

There’s a light touch to her shoulder, and when Pels glances up, Dad is walking across the parking lot toward the park. He left the paper bag on the front seat, so Pels grabs that to peer in. Double chocolate is never a bad choice. “Thanks, Lonnie,” she murmurs, then breaks off a bite to pop into her mouth. It’s still warm, the chocolate chips gooey and melting, sweet across her tongue. She chases it with a gulp of coffee, and yeah, she now understands why there was such a long line. The Coffee Shack is a nice treat for the day.

She continues to pick at the cookie while staring at her phone as if it’s going to continue doing something to entertain her. The cookie is almost done before it starts buzzing again as a series of pictures comes in.

She recognizes Hayley, bundled up against the cool weather. There are two more cats, and Jess captures images of them as they pounce on the one on Ángel’s lap, knocking him over and rolling the cat off. Another image shows Hayley bent over, laughing, with bright sparks shimmering around her. And the final one is a selfie of Shane and Jess, tilted close together, Jess’s nose bright red in the cold.

Pels knows she should answer, but this isn’t one of her skills. People in general aren’t one of her skills. She used to try when she was younger, but between being bullied, and strange things happening that no one but her understood, and Peter’s ministry keeping them on the road constantly… she just stopped connecting. It wasn’t worth it.

This feels dangerously like an attempt to connect.

“One text isn’t going to hurt you.”

She presses a hand to her heart, glaring at Dad where he’s back in the passenger seat. “I swear to God, if I could put a bell on you I would,” she grumbles. “Try not to scare me to death. If I die, you’ve done a shit job as a guardian angel.”

Her gaze drops back to the phone in her hand. She touches her thumb to the little line to respond, and a keyboard pops up. She sets the phone down on her lap like it’s hot.

It’s not that she’s not going to text. Just… it can wait. Right?

“I should drink my coffee before it gets cold,” she says, lifting the cup.

“Mm.” Dad makes that sound when he’s being judgmental and trying to pretend he’s not. Pels is very familiar with it.

She takes a long gulp of the coffee, studiously ignoring him.

The car clicks unlocked. She doesn’t look at him.

A rush of cold air hits her when her door opens, and Dad stands on the outside, holding on to the door, waiting.

Pels scowls. “Jesus Christ, I haven’t even taken off my seat belt.”

“You can glare at your phone in the park. It’s not busy, and there’s sun. It’s actually warmer there than here,” Dad points out.

She could close the door, but she knows from experience that if Dad wants her to do a thing, she’ll do the thing, even if she doesn’t understand why. If she doesn’t, Dad will just insist. “Fine,” she grumbles, grabbing her coffee and the remains of her cookie. She locks the car behind her, trailing as Dad leads the way to a bench that sits in the sun, but is still far enough from the playground and the few kids running around together.

Her phone buzzes one more time, vibrating in her pocket before she sits on the bench. She ignores it while she finishes the cookie and pitches the crumpled bag into the nearby trash.

“Just text back,” Dad encourages. “You’re going to be there for four years. You have a chance to build relationships.”

Pels glances at the ink on her wrist. “Yeah, no thanks. I don’t want any magically encouraged love affairs, thanks.”

“Magic can’t make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Pels snorts, because Dad, of all people, saying that is too funny. She covers it by drinking her coffee and pulling out her phone. “Dad. I don’t know if you remember this, but my entire Talent is built around magic telling me what to do, and what not to do, on a regular basis. Whether I want to do it or not.” She looks at him. “Magic is pushy. Literally. You pushed me into Shane.”

“But I can’t make you fall in love with him,” Dad says plainly. “Just answer the text. Make friends for once in your life. You’ve already made a couple of them and it hasn’t killed you.”

Fine.

I’m sorry, we’re probably bugging you when you’re busy with family, Jess wrote.

Pels worries at her lip, carefully typing out her answer. No, it’s okay. Dad’s bugging me, but he does that all the time. Mom actually made me drive my sister to gymnastics, and I’m stuck waiting around for her. I’m in a park, and it’s cold, but I’ve got really good coffee.

She holds up the cup in one hand, snapping a picture of it with the park in the background, then sends it before she can rethink it.

Oh it’s so pretty there! You must love getting to go home. We’re just hanging out in the Quad. Tony and Tanner and Luca aren’t used to the snow, so even though there’s only a little, it’s fun to watch them.

Jess’s text has a picture attached of three people Pels doesn’t recognize at all. One is one his back making a snow angel out of a dusting of snow. The other has his arm wrapped around Ángel and is glowering, while the third is on his knees, packing a tiny snowball.

Tony is Ángel’s soulmate. I think he’s a little possessive. Tanner is Hayley’s soulmate, and I think Luca is one of his best friends. Tanner is also Ángel’s best friend. And I think the soulmate thing for Tanner and Hayley is complicated but I’m not really asking questions. Tanner and Luca are staying with Hayley for spring break.

Tony is why I’m sexiled, Shane adds after Jess’s long text.

He says that like he doesn’t crash in my room half the time anyway, Jess adds, with a laughter emoji.

Shane sends several middle finger emojis.

Aren’t you guys together right now? Pels asks. Can’t you give her the finger in person?

Jess sends a series of different laughter emojis, almost filling Pels’s screen. That sounds so wrong out of context.

What?

Oh.

I didn’t mean that, Pels types slowly, thinking twice before she finally sends it.

I’m not her type anyway, Shane sends.

I like girls, Jess sends. I’ve never really had a crush on a guy.

Neither have I, Shane adds.

Pels giggles, surprising herself. I’ve never really had a crush on anyone, she admits. I almost did, once, then I moved. We move a lot. This place isn’t really home. It’s just where the current house is.

Oh wow, that’s really sad.

Pels stares at Jess’s text, her phone cradled in her hands. She’s always been angry about moving. Frustrated. She’s not sure she remembers how to feel sad about it. It’s just life, she replies. There isn’t really time to cry about it.

It looks like Jess is typing and deleting something several times. Shane sends a picture of Jess sitting cross-legged on the ground in the Quad, frosted leaves still scattered across the grass around her. Pels can see the puff of air lingering in the air after Jess exhaled, her nose and fingers red in the cold.

You should get a place off campus, Jess finally says. So you can have a place that’s yours for three years while you finish at PHU. Because you’ll be here for a while.

Just being in the same city for that long is new to me, Pels says.

Well, you get to keep us at least until we graduate, Shane says. So we can be friends.

You make it sound so easy.

It is that easy, Jess assures her. How long until you have to pick up your sister?

Pels checks her watch, not sure how long she’s already wasted. Somehow it’s already eleven, and that surprises her that time has passed so quickly. She looks around for Dad, but he seems to have disappeared for the moment, leaving her to her texting and coffee. I should probably hit the road in about a half hour. I have to drive back to where I left her.

I think we can keep up the distractions for a half hour, Jess assures her. So, let me tell you this story about orientation during our freshman year….

It’s weird, but not a bad kind of weird. What’s odd is how easy they make it, how simple it is to just listen to them talk, and sometimes say something back, and how they never make her feel truly awkward. It’s okay. And Pels can deal with that.

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