Red Rain

Chapter 2 - American Idiot

"Did you give Steve the chewing-out he deserves?" I ask Marco as Luca and I get back to the lounge after all our classes are over for the day.

Marco looks up and sighs as Luca sits next to him on the couch. "No. I haven't seen him all day, actually."

Luca chuckles. "He knows what's coming to him, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, that's why I haven't seen him, I bet," Marco laughs. "He's trying to avoid me."

"I'm sure if we go to your room right now, he'll be cowering in the closet," Luca says. "Alex, aren't you gonna sit with us?"

"Would if I could, dude, but I gotta go," I say, pointing behind me at the door to the boys' dorms.

"Wait, what time's your date again?"

Marco smiles at me, making me feel a bit embarrassed. "Another blind date, huh? I don't know why you keep doing that, Snow. Fool you once, shame on your demon brother. Fool you twenty times-"

"Ten," I correct him. "That's how many girls my brother's tried to set me up with."

"You sure it's only been ten?" Luca asks. "I think it's been at least fifteen by now."

"Trust me," I say, rubbing my eyes, "I've kept count of all the failures. It's been ten, and tonight will be number eleven."

Luca shakes his head. "You don't have a lot of faith in this one, do you?"

"Not really, no."

"But you still don't have to leave just yet, right?" Luca asks again. "These dates of yours are usually not till five or six, right?"

"I know, but as long as I got a couple hours to kill, I figure I should hit the pool. Before my bloody gills close up, you know?" I ask, glad as always for an opportunity to use the Hellish swear I picked up from Gabe. (Apparently, on Earth, there's a huge demonic ex-pat community in the UK, which is how "bloody" developed its reputation as a British expression.)

There's another possible reason for your sleep problems, Luca thinks, keeping it low to try and make sure Marco doesn't hear it. Out loud, he asks, "How long's it been since you went to the pool again?"

"Not since last weekend at least," I say. "You guys wanna come with?"

They both shake their heads, as I expect; angels usually don't like to swim. At least we have no trouble floating, because our bodies are less dense than those of demons or humans, but our wings are a bit of a hindrance in the water. Not at all hydrodynamic. Plus, they take forever to dry out. I, however, tend to feel a little more at home in the water. It's just one of the many things that makes me different from the others here at Balthazar, right down to the genetic level.

"Fair enough," I say. "Be back later."

I make my way through the crowded lounge and down the hall to my room. There, I go into the very far back of the closet and pull out the plastic bag containing my towel and trunks, which I stuff into my backpack. Then, I change as quickly as I can into regular teenage threads - plaid flannel shirt over a Pink Floyd tee, gray jeans, well-aged black sneakers. When I'm done, I open the window, crouch on the sill, and jump out, spreading my wings through the slits in the backs of my shirts. I go back to close the window from the outside (I'll have to hope that Luca doesn't lock me out), and take off again, flying down over the steep mountainside to the town in the valley below.

It's a one-of-a-kind experience, flight. Especially on a nice day. The clouds that covered us this morning have mostly faded, revealing a shiny, pearly-white sky. It's bracingly cold, but I'm wrapped up in double layers, so it doesn't affect me too much. Plus, it feels a bit more exhilarating when it's cold. The air isn't so solid in all the wrong ways, and it's easier to cut through. It feels like tiny knives nicking me, that sort of "hurts-so-good" feeling. Normally, I like to fly only as far as the entrance to the school and walk the rest of the way, but today I feel the need to wake myself up a bit more, so I soar over the rooftops, skimming them with the toes of my Vans.