Read Online Fallen Angel by Heather Terrell - Free Book Online Page B

luxury of rifling through my closet for something more interesting. I could already hear my mom calling up to me.
    Wheat toast with raspberry jam sat waiting for me on the kitchen table, along with a tall glass of orange juice. My mom hurried me along as she did every other morning; she liked to be in her office first thing. She didn’t mention the lie about the library, and I felt relieved that she didn’t seem upset anymore. We each grabbed our bags and headed for the front door.
    Just before she pulled the door open, I realized that I had left my English paper on the desk in my bedroom. I told her that I’d meet her in the car, and I ran upstairs to grab the paper. As I dashed back down the steps, I heard voices on the front porch. I opened the front door to see my mom chatting away—with Michael.
    I stopped. Why was he here? I spotted the gift basket in his hands, and I surmised that this was a peace offering for his stunt—a way of buttering up my parents. Michael’s outfit—parent-friendly khakis and a rugby shirt—confirmed my suspicions, and made me wish I’d had more than twenty minutes to get myself ready.
    My mom turned to me. “Look, dearest, your friend Michael brought us a present. Homemade breads.” To him, she probably sounded sweet, but I knew from the cold way she said “your friend” that the bread hadn’t won her over. She knew that it was I who had acted badly last night—not Michael—but I’m sure she blamed him in part, for being a bad influence. My mom was way tougher than she looked, way tougher than my dad, in fact. “You must have been up all night making these. After all, you guys got back pretty late from the library.” The last dig was for both our benefits.
    Michael didn’t look in my direction, but kept his focus on my mom. “Mrs. Faneuil, I have to confess that the present really comes from my mother. She said that I should deliver it to you with her regards.”
    “How nice of her. Please pass along my thanks.” She paused. “And please tell her that we should get together soon. It’s been a long, long time.”
    “I’ll do that. In fact, she mentioned the same thing. That it’s been too long.”
    Deftly, Michael turned the talk to our time together in Guatemala. I listened as they recalled people and events on which I drew a complete blank. He and I had talked about the gaps in my memory, so I didn’t feel uncomfortable with their conversation, even though it was still troubling. My mom glanced at her watch abruptly and said we should all get going.
    Finally, Michael seemed to remember me. He asked, “Mrs. Faneuil, do you mind if I take Ellie to school?”
    She paused for a split second that no one but me would have noticed. “No, that’s fine. Just be careful with our Ellie.”
    How embarrassing. “Oh, Mom—”
    Michael interrupted me. “I promise, Mrs. Faneuil.”
    My mom gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and watched as Michael opened the passenger door for me. I slid inside and waited for him, unsure what to say when he closed his door and we were alone.
    Once he got in, he leaned over to give me a kiss. His audacity brought the right words to my lips. I wrenched away and said, “Nice move, Michael. Did you think that I’d forget to be mad about the stunt you pulled yesterday just because you brought some bread for my mom?”
    To my surprise, he smiled and said, “No, Ellie, I didn’t think you’d forgive me just because my mom baked banana bread. You had every right to be angry with me; I know I scared you yesterday.”
    “Good.” I sat back in my seat and crossed my arms in satisfaction. Feeling vindicated, I snuck a look at him to see how he was taking my victory. To my irritation, he was still smiling.
    He put the key in the ignition and started the car. “However, I did think you’d forgive me because I kept my promise.”
    I froze. The only promise Michael had made was to meet me this morning—and he made it in last night’s dream. I