The Guardian by Carey Corp Read Free Book Online Page A

target. When he finds his prey, his eyes glimmer with perverse excitement. “Becke Finch,” he beckons. “Come sit up here.”
    I wince because I didn’t know Becke was in this class. Suddenly, I feel protective of the quiet girl with frizzy red hair and lemon chiffon halo. Turning to look behind my row, I see Becke loosely gather her things and shuffle forward to the far right seat in the first row.
    “Good girl, Becke.” Mr. Creepy smirks. “Any other volunteers?” When Kendra Douglas practically runs from the back of the class to sit front and center, he beams at her. “Thank you Kendra.”
    With a triumphant glare toward Gabriel and me, he begins to teach. For the next fifty minutes, we’re ignored as he divides his attentions between the two girls in the front row. But it’s Becke I watch, because Mr. Creepy has singled her out in my stead. Hovering around her, he lingers.
    After English, Gabriel keeps his body between Mr. Creepy and me as we exit. I expect this. What is unexpected is Jonah, who goes out of his way to circle around behind us. With surprise, I realize he’s getting my back. His way of making amends, maybe?
    Escaping English unscathed makes me feel buoyant. In the hallway, my face cracks in a huge, spontaneous grin. There’s a bounce in my step as I walk down the hall with Gabriel fast at my side.
    On the way to PE, I wonder if Gabriel will accompany me into the girl’s locker room and how I’m going to play badminton with Gabriel’s hand pressed against my back. The thoughts make me giggle.
    Gabriel inclines his head to study me. “What?”
    “Nothing.” I bite down on my lip, stopping as we reach the entrance to the girls’ locker room to smile at the boy who has stuck closer to me than my own shadow.
    He smiles back, trying to coax the information out of me. “Please tell me?”
    Before slipping inside, I plant a big ol’ spontaneous kiss on his cheek. “See you in class, Gabriel.”
    My last glimpse of him is standing in the doorway, dazed and dreamy, his hand over the spot on his cheek where my lips have recently been.
    *
    Since it’s our second day of school, we spend most of the period learning the rules of badminton. At one point Gabriel leans in and whispers, “How hard can it be? Drop and swat—like flies.”
    His accompanying gestures look more like he’s trying to hit a one handed home run. And I reply, “I pity the flies you swat.”
    At the end of class, there are about ten minutes left to volley. We’re asked to partner up, and Gabriel’s hand slides possessively across my back, before Naomi can get her clutches on him. As we swat the birdie back and forth, I’m pleased to find out he has a competitive streak.
    Even more astonishing is he seems to bring out the competitiveness in me. This is something new. These thoughts flicker through my brain in the seconds it takes Gabriel to launch the birdie at my head. Maybe it’s the boy, or maybe it’s my pent up emotions desperately needing an outlet, but I attack that little sucker with everything in me.
    We rally, our volleys closing the distance between one another, our strikes getting more vicious with each return. Then, somehow, Gabriel manages to turn badminton into a contact sport, and we wind up in a tangled heap on the floor with Coach Mann and her whistle looming over us.
    As Gabriel helps me to my feet, I can’t help but notice how amazing he looks after a little exertion. Up to now I’ve only seen him looking fantastic in expensive looking jeans and muted, button down shirts. But he looks incredible in gym clothes, too. Longish basketball shorts and a tank top display his lean, well-defined muscles coated with a fine sheen of sweat that makes his tan skin glisten. Cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, he grins impishly at me while raking his fingers through his damp hair.
    I’m not the only one who stares at him. Every girl in the room and at least a few of the boys, admire his teenage male perfection. Even