The Healer: A Young Adult Romantic Fantasy (The Healer Series Book 1)

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Authors: C. J. Anaya
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freshman.
    Angie sighed dramatically. “It was one of the tasks set forth by Venus you tiny worm.”
    “Isn’t Venus supposed to be Cupid’s mother? I thought we were talking about Eros now.”
    The look Angie gave the kid was close to apoplectic. “Are you still speaking?” she asked in disbelief.
    I put my hand on his arm and eased him back in his seat where he was out of Angie’s line of vision. “I’ll give you my notes after class,” I said to the bewildered boy.
    He again looked at me gratefully and avoided eye contact with my best friend.
    I considered my best friend as she daintily picked at her fingernails. Angie could be abrasive, but I‘d learned a long time ago to cut her some slack. Though she looked put together on the surface, her sarcastic remarks and indifferent attitude hid years’ worth of repressed pain, anger and sorrow. I didn’t understand where those volatile emotions came from, and Angie was never forthcoming during her dark periods when she would call me in tears and beg me to come over and spend the night with her. I was the only one who could bring her out of it, and I was the only one who Angie was willing to have physical contact with during those periods of time. Both of our parents had come to an understanding long ago. Whenever Angie got like that, I stayed at her place until things were better.
    There were some days when she would come to school with gloves on. Her on-again, off-again germaphobic tendencies were par for the course. No one batted an eyelash at this bizarre behavior. Of course, anyone who did would be at the receiving end of Angie’s quick wit and sharp tongue. She was always the last to leave a class and the last to show up for class. She didn’t like the crowded halls and sweaty, unkempt bodies bumping into her so she generally waited for the halls to clear and the bell to ring.
    Due to her special phobias, her tardiness was brushed aside.
    I didn’t push her or prod for information anymore. She had helped me through some of my darkest times after I lost my mother, and I knew she had my back. I didn’t need to know more unless she wanted me to. When she attended my mother’s funeral, I was startled by the look of guilt on her face which so perfectly mirrored my own. She stared at my mother’s peaceful features and mumbled a comment about it being her fault because she never saw it coming. It made very little sense to me, but when I asked her about it she just gave me a fierce hug, told me she wouldn’t let me down again, and then seated herself on the front pew of the viewing room waiting for the services to start.
    Our loyalty to one another was without question the very thing that kept us anchored to reality. She battled her demons while I battled mine, and we had this unspoken agreement to never talk about it.
    I blinked a few times to clear my thoughts as the classroom discussion fought for my attention.
    “Aphrodite was so impressed by the love that Psyche had for Eros, she made Psyche immortal, gave them her blessing, and Psyche and Eros lived happily ever after,” Ms. Mori finished.
    “Really? I always thought these legends ended tragically,” I said before I could stop myself. I must have lost my senses with that trip down memory lane. I didn’t usually participate in class discussions.
    “Well, Ms. Fairmont, some of them do. Do you have one in particular you would like to share with us?” The intense, almost probing look Ms. Mori was giving me made me feel uncomfortable.
    I wondered why I’d decided to participate at all. I couldn’t think of one single, tragic legend with everyone staring at me expectantly.
    “You said that the Roman and Greek gods and goddesses are counterparts to each other. Do other cultures have a god or goddess of love?” I asked hoping to turn the attention back to Ms. Mori. She smiled at me as if she knew something I didn’t.
    “Let’s talk about Freya, the Norse Goddess of love and beauty. She was so

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