Guardian

Chapter Two

Tiberius's Point of View.

The car ride was cramped. It always was. Though anyone looking from the outside in the car, even those inside said car, would say otherwise. But it was.

I sat in the middle seat, next to Feather, who was gazing out the window. There were bits of frost on the ground outside, though I couldn't feel the cold. I rested my head on top of Feather's breathing deeply.

Her brothers were arguing in the front seat of the car, something about who won at football the night before, but I wasn't paying attention, and I knew that Feather wasn't either. She was distracted by something out the window, the light beaming through, hitting her face and hair like an angel.

Which was ironic, considering.

I'd been with Feather since she was a baby. She wasn't my first assignment, my first soul to look after. No. I'd looked after many others before her. All of them dudes. All of whom turned out big-headed and arrogant. It wasn't my fault directly, but I'd always taken it that why.

Everyone before Feather had died. Died before they were meant to. They'd all come to their tragic ends too early and despite me being an angel, I couldn't save them. I wasn't ready to take this job. I wasn't ready to be put back in again. The last human I'd lost had actually not been too bad of a person. He was someone I could look after and not hate every moment of it. He died in a plane crash of all things. He was twenty seven. When I'd returned to heaven, I felt like a failure. I'd lost all of my humans, all of my souls that I was supposed to protect.

Some of the older Angels told me that it happens more often than I thought. They said that there was going to be someone. Someone I'd love and cherish and want to look after, someone I wanted to protect. I'd doubted it at the time, but now that I'm here, I knew they were right. The smug bastards.

But I was glad, glad that I had let them send me down once more. If they hadn't, I didn't know what I would be doing right now, or where I would be. I would have missed out on the chance to be with Feather. Even the thought of such made my mood dampen.

The car soon stopped and Feather got out as soon as she could, obviously not comfortable with the way her brothers were driving. I got out after her, quickly catching up to her fast steps, slowing my pace down once I caught up. I grabbed her hand, gaining a little bit of comfort knowing that she was there. If I didn't let her go then she couldn't go anywhere. That was my theory anyway.

Walking through the front doors of the school, no one's heads turned to see Feather, no one looked. It had been this way for years, a long time. Feather knew her routine and followed it everyday. I don't think that she minded being alone. She wasn't completely alone, she had one friend, but Jasmine was homeschooled so Feather didn't see her often during the week. It bothered her, sometimes. I knew that for a fact. But she was strong.

The school day was long itself. I spent my day listening idly to the teachers, playing with Feather's hair as I stood behind her, or sat on the floor beside her. This was how days normally went. Sometimes they'd have substitutes, in which case other students would spend their time messing around behind said substitutes back. It was juvenile to say the least.

I stayed behind Feather, not at all far as I still held onto her pinky finger, but not right next to her. She pushed her way through the halls, past jocks who were messing around, couples who paid attention to no one, cheerleaders who were gossiping with their friends. I'd been in high school so many times before, and had seen it from the point of view of everyone. All male, of course, but I'd seen it all. The geek, the jock, to stoners. Everything from zero to one hundred.

People knocked into her, some on accident, other on purpose. Some pushed her and stuck their feet out so that she would trip. She almost did, several times, each time I was there to help her, to catch her as she fell. They laughed every time, every single time. Some people would stare, but did nothing.

This, this always made me angry. I could feel my blood boiling inside my veins, my cheeks began to get red as another tried to trip Feather. I clenched my free hand into a fist, feeling my nails grow longer, sticking into the palms of my hands as they elongated and pointed. I could feel my face falling, growing colder and harder, I could see my skin getting paler as another person reached their hand out to push Feather. I was about to step in, physically step in, which -though it was against the rules- I did often, when the Principal came out of his office and the person, whoever it was, instantly retracted their hand. Feather was quick to step away from the situation, as the Principal began to ramble on about the school's upcoming football game and Halloween dance. Neither of which Feather intended on going to, though I wished I could take her to that dance, as I did every year.