Meant to Be (The Saving Angels 1)

“Krista,” my mom called up the stairs the next morning. “Are you ready for school?”

I glanced one last time in the mirror over my dresser, and cringed at the faint smudge lines under my eyes. So much for cover up, I thought ruefully. Last night had been another bad night. I decided to limit my make-up, knowing that to add blush to a face that turned red from embarrassment so easily would only make me resemble a clown in a circus. The only thing I added liberally was my foundation, which I hoped would cover up the smudges. I finished with a touch of eyeliner to bring out the color of my eyes, and finally my favorite cherry lip gloss from Bath and Body Works.

I had to admit that except for the dark marks, I actually looked halfway decent. The school uniform fit me nicely. The pleats in the skirt swished out with every step; the crisp white shirt was tucked pertly into my skirt, and the navy blue cardigan was knotted across my shoulders. My hair was thrown back in the customary ponytail I preferred to wear; since it aggravated me when my hair fell in my eyes while reading. To make the ponytail more appealing, I clipped a navy blue hair clip at its base.

“Well that’s as good as it’s going to get, Feline,” I said, patting his head on my way out the door.

He sunk even deeper into my quilt, making me smile. At the end of the day, he would be there in the same spot. Sure, he would use the cat box and eat his food in the kitchen, but somehow he sensed when I would be arriving home, and he always waited for me in the same place.

I made my way down the staircase, pausing to take a deep breath and making sure I had a smile firmly on my face. My mom didn’t need to worry, especially since we had just gotten our lives on a somewhat normal path. There was no need to ruin it.

“Hi mom,” I said, kissing her on the cheek on the way to the refrigerator.

“Don’t you look cute and sassy in your new school uniform?”

“Do you like?” I asked, twirling around, giving her the full effect of the pleated skirt.

“It looks very flattering on you honey, I’m so glad you finally get to go to a school where you feel comfortable.”

“Me too, I just want to blend in with all the other smart kids in the school. Hopefully the teachers will be too busy with them to worry about me,” I said grabbing the six-pack of chocolate cupcakes out of the refrigerator.

“Honey, I know you think you’re going to blend in, but I hate to break it to you, you’re special. Even these teachers are going to realize it.”

“You’re just biased. You have to think I’m special. You’re my mom. It’s written in the parent’s handbook.”

She raised her eyebrows as if to say, are you kidding me? She let it slide though, and instead focused on my face.

Crap. I hastily looked down and concentrated on taking the paper off my cupcake. My morning eating habits had been a battle for many years, but my parents and I had finally reached a truce when I had agreed to eat a healthy breakfast every other day. I won the arguments when I pointed out that cupcakes or chocolate brownies were the same as eating doughnuts or a sugary cereal for breakfast. Tomorrow I would have to choke down a whole grain bagel, but today I could enjoy my wonderful chocolate cupcake.

“He left again last night?” She asked.

I could tell by her worrisome tone that my ploy had not worked.

I mentally kicked myself for telling my mom about the new twist my dreams had taken. As long as the dreams made me happy, she was okay with me having them, but if they started making me sad, she’d bring up the topic of taking me to a sleep clinic to try to put a stop to them.

When my dad was alive, he had broached the subject of taking me to a clinic many times, but mom always intervened on my behalf. Of course if my mom knew how often I dreamed about him, she probably would have felt differently. As far as she knew, I only dreamt about him occasionally. My dad had serious issues when he found out that the boy in my dreams was aging with me. He was okay with it when I was young, but he didn’t like the idea of me dreaming about some teenage boy.

“Mom, I’m fine,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s my job to worry about you. I don’t like the idea of you getting so upset while you are sleeping,” she glared at me. “And even though you try to cover it, I know that it’s following you throughout your day. You’re just getting over your dad; I hate to see you upset all over again.”

“Mom, trust me, I’m fine. Come on, we need to get a move on or I’m going to be late for the first day of school.”

By the look on her face, I knew the subject wasn’t closed. Next time, I would have to do a better job at covering up the signs of my dreams.

We arrived at my new school with ten minutes to spare. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I have my schedule, and I’ve studied the school map enough that I shouldn’t get lost.” At least that’s what I was hoping anyway.

“Try to make friends honey, okay?”

“Mom, you know I’m not good at that. People just don’t like me.”

“That’s not true. People are just put off by the way you study them. Sometimes you look like your searching for something in them.”

She was right of course; I was always sizing everyone up, searching for the same kind of connection with others that I shared with the unknown boy in my dreams.

“Look mom, I’ll try, okay? It’s just hard for me to meet new people.”