Hybrid

Nevaeh:

His beautiful muscular body is straining. However, my eyes are focused on the magnificent wings standing proudly behind his back. 

"They're beautiful. Can I touch them?" I whisper softly. Even though I can't see his face, I know that he is beautiful. He smiles, running his hand caressingly over my arm, and whispers sensuously. 

"Nevaeh, you are my Sodales Semper, my love, always," he says in a deep, gravelly voice. I move forward, my hand extended. I want to touch him so badly that my body is shaking with excitement. 

As he moves closer, I can feel his breath on my face. His wings move as if seeking my hand. My hand strokes the feathers. They are soft and warm to the touch. I run my hand caressingly down his wing, enjoying the soft downy feel of his feathers. His wing flutters and his breathing quickens with desire. 

Biting my lip, I shyly gaze at him through the curtain of my dark hair. His hand moves down my shoulder as I move mine over his wings. Eyes focused on his mouth, I lick my lips and prepare to kiss him. We are so close we are practically breathing the same air. His mouth moves towards mine slowly. It's almost hypnotic. Closing my eyes, I lean close to kiss him.

"Bang, bang into the room…" 

My body jolts at the sound of my cell phone going off. I open my eyes. I'm back in my room. He's gone. Feeling a sense of loss, I sit up on my bed and listen for any sounds within the house. I can hear the honk of Travis's car horn in the distance. Then my cell begins to ring. "Bang, bang into the room…" The sound of my Adriana Grande ringtone continues, interrupting my usual morning routine. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I reach for my phone and hit the answer button. It's my boyfriend, Travis. I guess he got tired of honking the horn. 

"What the hell, babe, where are you? I've been sitting out here for ten minutes." I shake my head, clearing my mind, and grasp the covers as I roll out of bed. "Sorry, Trav, my alarm didn't go off. Just go ahead without me. I'll take my car, okay?" 

I listen as he takes an impatient breath before he replies. "Fine, but you have to get a new alarm. It sucks to wait here every time your alarm messes up."

I look at the clock on my phone again, run my fingers through the tangled mess that is my hair, and reply, "Yeah, sure. Bye." I hang up quickly. 

To be honest, I'm getting tired of Travis's demands. We've been together for nearly a year, and I'm just not feeling the attraction any longer. At this point, every demand from him is annoying, and every moment we spend together feels like an obligation. 

After I've brushed my teeth and thick hair, I put on my cheerleading uniform and head down the stairs. First, let me introduce myself. My name is Nevaeh Rivera. I'm a senior at Arcata High, and I'm the cheerleading team captain, along with dance and choir, and president of the Student Council and the Social Committee. Let's just say that I'm a very busy girl. I live in a small town called Arcata, located in California. My dream is to be a writer, so I'm super smart. My greatest assets are my long brown hair and deep golden eyes. I've been told that my hair has a natural wave to it that girls go to the salon for. You know, the soft romantic curl? I'm told that I look like my mom, but I really don't see it. I'm slim, about five foot five, with a toned body. Being a cheerleader has helped keep me in tip-top shape. My friend Jezelle says that my olive skin and dark coloring make me look exotic. 

Leaning close to a nearby mirror, I roll my lip gloss over my full cherry lips and line my eyes. My last boyfriend, Shane, used to say that I didn't need to line my eyes because they were large and soulful. He was so sweet. Unfortunately, he moved to Florida, and a long-distance relationship was not in our plans. 

As I make my way down the stairs, I hear my mom's car drive away from the house. I roll my eyes at her hasty retreat. God forbid she say goodbye. The kitchen is empty, and there's no breakfast ready.

"At least there's no one fighting," I mumble to myself. My parents have never been the warmest, but lately, it's been a constant deluge of arguing back and forth: my mom harping on something, my dad screaming back. It's been a nightmare for me because I know what the next step is. I have plenty of friends with divorced parents. It just saddens me that my parents have no regard for my feelings. 

My phone rings again. "Bang, bang into the room…" Ugh, I need to change my ringtone. Jez and I chose the ringtone as a joke, but it's getting old already. Hitching up my bag, I take an apple from the kitchen table and make my way out the door. My messenger bag rests heavily against my side. 

I scowl when my phone rings again. Seriously, I'm almost out the door. People can be so impatient. As I make my way out the door, I grab my car keys and reach for my phone. It's Jezelle. She's probably waiting impatiently by the school's front door. "Hey, Jezelle—" 

Her voice breaks through my speech. "Don't 'Hey Jezelle' me! Where the hell are you? I've been waiting…" She continues to rant as I get into my Jeep and turn it on. 

"Sorry, Jez, give me a few minutes. I'm on my way." I hang up quickly, not letting her finish her rant. Sometimes that's the way to deal with her. The girl will run through her data, berating me for being late. 

Settling my arm on the steering wheel of my Jeep Wrangler, I hit the road and make my way to school. I love my Jeep. It used to belong to my Uncle Mannie. He was a war photographer. He died last year while he was on assignment in Africa. He was in a hot zone and caught a bullet in the heart. It was a very sad moment for us. Uncle Mannie knew I loved the old Jeep, so he left it for me in his will. I was his favorite niece. I always shared my writing with him. He loved everything I wrote. I remember he told me that he was proud of me and that I would be a great writer someday. I miss him so much. 

It doesn't take long for me to pull the Jeep into the school's parking lot. The lot is quiet and still at this time of day. School doesn't start for at least another hour, so most kids are still home. However, I'm late for cheerleading practice, and by the look on Jezelle's face, it isn't good. 

Right now, she's standing near the entrance doorway, looking annoyed. Jezelle is pretty with brown and blond highlights. She has beautiful, crystal blue eyes and lush lips. Her five-foot frame vibrates with energy as she paces in place. Not wasting another moment, I grab my things and rush over to her. Her face breaks into a smile as she pulls me close and gives me an air kiss. "You're late, Nev. Are you ready?" 

I nod my head, giving her a sardonic smile. "Sorry about that. But I'm here now, so let's go." 

As we walk toward the gym, our cheer skirts make swishing sounds with every shift of our bodies. We usually wear workout clothes for practices, but we have school pictures today. Jez pushes the doors open and walks ahead. The rest of the squad is doing stretches, practicing a few moves, or talking. 

Settling my bag down, I clap my hands loudly and gain their attention. "Okay, ladies, today is class picture day, and tomorrow is a home game, so we need to be ready. Remember that regionals are coming up. And I don't know about you guys, but I want to win." 

I move forward and stand next to Jez. Leigh Andrews steps up, an ugly smirk on her face, and cattily mutters. "Wow, Nevaeh, are you going to make it a habit to be late? I mean, you're the captain of the squad. If you can't handle the pressure, let us know so we can get a new captain." I roll my eyes at her comment. 

"Not the pressure, Leigh, just a bad alarm. So, you can halt your search. Now, are we going to talk or practice?" I reply calmly as I place my hands on my waist, give Leigh a measuring look, and point to the floor. Without another word, Leigh rolls her eyes and falls back in line. 

Leigh is the kind of girl that can be envious of every girl in the room. It makes no sense because she's pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes. Too bad she's evil to the core. Most of the girls in the squad have complained about Leigh being catty and vicious. The problem is that Leigh's a good dancer, and we don't have the time to find a replacement for her. I've known Jez, Leigh, and a few other girls from the squad since middle school. Believe it or not, Leigh was a sweet, shy girl. Then, in our sophomore year, she came to school with a short skirt and a bitchy attitude. She's very well known as a boyfriend stealer, so the girls are leery of her. 

Cheer practice was as good as usual. I had to keep a few girls from ripping Leigh's hair out, but we were ready. Jezelle and I head towards our lockers, ready to start the school day. "Girl, something has got to be done about Leigh. I swear Brit was about to choke her when she made a comment about Brit's ass looking like cottage cheese."

Jez unlocks her locker and laughs as my locker opens with a hard thud. Her locker has been next to mine since freshman year. Inside our locker doors, there are pictures of the team, Jez and I, and a few cheer posters. I take a deep breath, collecting my literature and history books from the locker with a snicker. "What am I supposed to do, Jez? Regionals are in a few weeks, and we don't have the time to get someone new. I'll talk to her about her attitude." 

Jez looks at me, puckers her lips, and takes a deep breath. "All right, Nev, you're the captain. But I have to tell you if Leigh says one more thing, I'm going to let the girls take care of her. Capice?" Jez lifts her hand, fingers up, deepening her voice. I laugh incredulously at Jez's imitation of an Italian Don. 

Before I can respond, the hallway goes quiet. It's like when you hear animals in the forest, and they sense a predator, and everything grows eerily silent. That's how the hallway felt at that moment. There are usually kids running around, screaming, yelling, and laughing, but now, you can hear a pin drop. Suddenly, the murmuring of excited whispers reaches my ear. I hear words like "Juvenile…Boys Home…Killed someone." 

Jez and I look around. Suddenly the crowd parts. Kids cower and whisper as a group of boys ascend from the end of the hallway. There are four boys. I can see the girls gaping in shock. The boys are beautiful. All tall with a variety of hair colors. The first boy has scruffy brown hair with golden highlights, face stubble, and golden eyes. He snickers cockily at the crowd as he makes his way down the hallway. The second one has brown hair and blue eyes. His hair is a military cut, and his face is clear of stubble. He smiles arrogantly and winks at a few girls. You can hear their sighs as he bestows his smile upon them. The third one has wavy blond hair and brown eyes. He seems shy and quiet, keeping his eyes on the ground, only looking up to follow a path. 

The one that instantly holds my attention is the last boy. He's wearing a black Henley with black jeans and steel-toed boots. His hair is pitch black with a fauxhawk, and his eyes are just as black. Unlike the rest of the boys, he is vacantly staring ahead of his path, never meeting anyone's eyes. I can see a tick of annoyance working in his jaw. The boys continue walking down the hallway until they disappear into the office. 

As if nothing had happened, everyone continues to talk and prepare for the day. I raise my eyebrow at Jez questioningly. "What the hell was that about?" 

Jez looks at me as if I'm a complete idiot and quirks a brow. Her mouth flattens into an incredulous line as she waves her hand in the direction the boys disappeared into. "Seriously?" 

I slap my right hand over my hip nodding my head in question. "Yeah, I'm serious. WTF Jez? What's going on? Why are you looking at me as if I'm buying retail? What the hell is this about?" 

Jez gives me a sideways smile and shakes her head. "Girl…how in the hell have you not heard of the Cross brothers? The whole school has been talking about them." 

I shrug my shoulders in puzzlement. "Jez, you know how busy I am with Travis, cheerleading, student council, and everything else. The school year has just started, and I barely have time to breathe, let alone listen to gossip. Now dish." Shaking her head, Jez steers me toward our history class. Mr. Andrews is sitting at his desk, his voice sounding harsh as he points his fingers in emphasis towards Patrick, the class clown. I wonder what he did this time. 

Jez continues to whisper softly. "I have to say it's funny that you don't have a clue about this considering that the topic is really close to your home. Anyway, you know that abandoned house across the street from your house?" 

I nod my head thinking about the creepy house across the street. "Yeah, the old Killington house. What about it?" Jez and I take a seat in our chairs. At the beginning of the year, we both decided to sit near the door. It makes it easier to sneak in or out of class if we need to. I sit in front of Jez; Keely Michaels used to sit next to me, but she moved a few months ago, so the desk will remain empty until we can find an adequate replacement.

Jez lays her books on the table and reaches into her purse to check her cell phone. She texts a few things, ignoring my impatient glare. I wave my hand impatiently. "Well, according to Pam, whose mom works in the Department of Children's Services, the city council approved the proposal for the Killington house to become a home for boys—juvenile boys. Pam mentioned that some of the boys are there because they did some really bad things. Truthfully, I don't think they did the things she says they did. I mean, who would put hardened criminals in a home? I would imagine they'd be in Jail instead." 

I nod my head, feeling a shiver creep down my back. "Well, whatever they did, I have no interest in getting involved with criminals. Frankly, I don't know why they let them into the school…" 

My words die out as Jez's eyes widen. Her eyes are not on me, though. Instead, they focus on a point behind my shoulder. Sensing a presence behind me, I turn slowly and see the dark boy from earlier standing near the door, which happens to be next to my desk. His eyes lock on mine, and his nostrils flare with anger. Shit! Me and my big mouth. 

His eyes travel down my body with contempt. Almost like he's measuring me up for a coffin. Not wanting him to see me sweat, I take a breath, cross my legs, and give him a sly smile. He scowls as he shifts in place. I can tell that he wants to blast me for my comment, and I deserve it. But I'm not the kind of girl who is easily cowed.

Keeping my eyes steadily on him, I run my hand through my hair and raise my eyebrow in question. "Can I help you with something?" I ask as I cattily twirl my pen through my fingers.

His gorgeous face hardens further, and his lips move as if he's about to respond. But before he does, Mr. Andrews interrupts. "You must be Mikhail Cross?" Mr. Andrews pats him strongly on the back, causing him to stumble slightly forward. It looks funny considering that Mikhail is over six feet and maybe 190 pounds. However, Mr. Andrews was a linebacker for some professional football team, which means he outweighs Mikhail by at least a hundred pounds. 

Unlike Mikhail, though, Mr. Andrews is rounder and looks like Santa. Mikhail, on the other hand, looks like a fallen angel. Mikhail, what an odd name. I guess that if anyone can move the gorgeous criminal, it would be Mr. Andrews. Turning to Mr. Andrews, Mikhail takes a deep breath and stiffens. Mr. Andrews smiles kindly and holds his hand out in greeting. 

One thing about Mr. Andrews is that he may be a giant, but he's a gentle one. Mikhail ignores the hand, looking around the room. "Where can I sit, sir?" 

Mr. Andrews's eyes land on the desk next to me. Dread rushes through me at the thought of what he is going to suggest. In my head, I'm screaming, Nooooo! in slow motion. However, Mr. Andrews ignores my panicked look when he points to the desk beside me. Giving the desk a sour glare, Mikhail gives me a heated look and rests his bag on the chair.

My mouth opens in astonishment. Without a thought, I raise my hand to stop Mr. Andrews. "MR. ANDREWS, YOU CAN'T SIT HIM THERE!" I exclaim vehemently. 

Mr. Andrews turns towards me and quirks an astonished brow. I cringe back when he places his hand on his hip and calmly asks, "And why shouldn't he sit there, Ms. Rivera?" 

I open my mouth, but I have no response. "I…Uh…well…" I mumble incoherently. 

Mr. Andrews smirks as he waits patiently for my reply. I lick my lips, glancing at Mikhail, and give him a sour look before I slump back in resignation. "No reason, Mr. Andrews," I grit through my teeth. 

Giving me a knowing smirk, Mikhail scrapes the chair loudly from the table, takes a seat, and gazes off into the distance. I turn towards Jez, who has her mouth gaping open like a fish as she looks back and forth between Mikhail and me.

Seeing no further conflict, Mr. Andrews moves to the front of the class and begins talking. Annoyed, I face forward and pretend that Mikhail is not sitting next to me. It is the longest lecture that I've ever attended. Mr. Andrews talks on and on about King Leonidas and the 300. Normally, I would be interested, except for the dark specter sitting to my left. I've never been so uncomfortable in my life. Unable to help myself, I shift in my seat uncomfortably and continue looking at the clock. It doesn't help that my cheerleading outfit is snug and stifling. The top sticks to my body like a second skin, and my skirt chafes my thighs.

Needless to say, when the bell rings, I grab my things and rush out of class. Jez is calling my name, but I ignore her as I make my way to the girl's bathroom. "Nev…wait up!" I hear her call from behind me. Feigning a calm exterior, I walk over to the mirror and adjust my hair and lip gloss. A second later, the door opens and slams closed behind me. 

Jez crosses her arms across her chest and gives me a speculative look. "What the hell was that about, Nevaeh? You totally threw a bitch fit over the new boy. Holy shit, that was crazy. I thought you guys were going to throw down or something." 

I try to play it off as if it was nothing, but my heart is still beating a mile a minute. "I just didn't want anyone sitting in Keely's spot. No big deal." 

Jez gives me a you're-not-fooling-me look, but I ignore her and continue to adjust my cheer skirt. "We better go take our class pics. We have Lit third period, and Mrs. Christiansen will be pissed if we're late." 

The door opens as Jezelle and I are about to walk out. Two freshman girls rush in, whispering. "Oh my gosh, did you see Mikhail Cross? He is so hot. I think he brushed up against me in the hallway." 

The one talking has wild curly hair and braces. I roll my eyes when the other one moves closer to her friend and whispers excitedly. "I know, and that Rowan is so hot. Did you see him walk into...?" 

Not wanting to hear another word, I step out of the bathroom and make my way to the gym. Jez follows behind me as we make our way down the stairs. "You have got to be kidding me. Now they have groupies. Ugh." 

Jez laughs at my tone and steps beside me. "Can you really blame them? I mean, those brothers are hot." She emphasizes her comments by making a sizzling sound and running her index finger over her lips. 

Amazed at my friend's bad taste, I turn quickly. Unfortunately, I misjudge the next step, and my body starts to fall forward. Jez reaches for me, but I'm already falling. I close my eyes, ready to break my neck. However, before I begin my descent, I fall into a set of muscled arms and a solid chest. My arms grip the tall, muscled form tightly as I try to straighten my stance. Looking up, I open my mouth to thank my savior when my eyes focus on the face in front of me. He's even more beautiful up close. But he doesn't seem happy that he saved me. I lick my lips and swallow hard when I notice that his eyes are following the movement of my tongue. His nostrils flare, and my body heats. I don't know how, but suddenly we're closer. My lips inch closer to his at their own volition, and our mouths are about to meet when a voice interrupts. 

"Oh crap, Nev, are you okay?" Jez's voice penetrates my haze. Horrified, I push away from his arms and right myself. I know it's rude, but I'm shaken. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I move back down a step and mutter, "Thanks." 

Mikhail raises a sardonic brow and folds his hands across his chest with a snicker. "Anytime, princess," he sarcastically replies. 

I stop at the bottom of the stairs and give him a smug glare. Ignoring my angry glare, he turns around and walks away. A hand grasps my elbow. "Are you okay, Nev? For a second there, I thought you were a goner."

Nodding my head, I continue walking towards the gym. "I'm fine, Jez. The jackass caught me." Jez clicks her tongue, looking at me worriedly. "Come on, Nev, cut the guy some slack. He literally just saved your life." 

I shake my head, walking towards the photographer. "He just rubs me the wrong way. Let's…let's just forget about it, okay? It's picture time." Jez gives me a dubious stare but doesn't respond. Instead, she takes a deep breath and follows behind me. 

Third-period Lit is a great class. Mrs. Christiansen always finds new and inventive ways to make literature interesting. I remember one time we pretended to be Shakespearean actors. We had to make the story more modern and then act it out. The boys portrayed a fight scene between Romeo and Juliet. It was funny because they kept stabbing each other with fake paper swords and spoke in old English. 

Jez and I walk in excited, but the excitement dies quickly. Unfortunately, Mrs. Christiansen also tends to suddenly change things around. The tables that were put into single rows before are now paired. Mrs. Christiansen walks in excitedly. "Hello, everyone! As you can see, the room has been rearranged. We are about to set off on a journey into the world of famous lovers. As such, everyone will be paired with someone of the opposite gender. Meaning, Mr. Austin..." she says, looking at Kyle Austin, who happens to be gay and very effeminate, "that we will be paired off as boy and girl. If there is a problem, you will have to solve it with your partner because, barring death, you are to stay with whom you are paired with. Now then…" 

Mrs. Christiansen stops talking and looks up with a distracted expression when Mikhail and one of the other boys from this morning stride confidently into the room. The blond one. "Welcome, Mikhail and Rowan. You are just in time." The boys don't respond as they silently move forward and join the group surrounding Mrs. Christiansen. 

I watch from the sidelines as the girls eye the brothers and send them seductive looks. I roll my eyes and listen as Mrs. Christiansen continues with her plans. "As I was saying, for the next few weeks you will sit with the partner the name selector chooses for you. There will be no changing partners once they are chosen. All selections are final. You are all nearly adults here. Therefore, you need to learn to work with people of all attitudes. All of you need to learn to work as a team. So, if you want to change partners, the answer is no. Once your partner is chosen, you and your partner will work on the project assigned to you. Now, let's make a line. The first person will click on the selector button, and the name of your partner will appear." Mrs. Christiansen walks over to her computer and presses a button. Janie Hayes is first in line. She presses the button, and Kyle Austin's name comes up. Janie and Kyle smile. I'm sure they're relieved to be paired with each other since they're good friends. 

As the line dwindles down, I worry because my name hasn't been chosen. Jez's name was picked by Rowan Cross, which leaves Jason Devlin, of all people, in the running. Jason's a hot senior. He and my boyfriend Travis are good friends. Travis and I don't have any classes together this year. At first, when we began dating, this upset me. But now that I'm ready to break up, I'm glad that I don't have to see him in class every day. I just don't feel anything for him anymore.

Unfortunately, Callie, Mikhail, and Jason Devlin are the only ones left to call on besides me. I can't believe this! Heart beating, I observe as Jason presses the button and the wheel spins. Resisting the urge to cross my fingers, I nearly choke when Callie's name is selected. Callie gives me a venomous look and bumps my shoulder as she walks towards Jason, which leaves Mikhail and me as partners now. Giving me a spiteful look, Mikhail woodenly walks to one of the empty tables and takes a seat. I guess he's just as unhappy that we're partners as I am. Stunned, I walk towards the empty seat next to him and sit down. Not a word is said between us. However, anyone paying attention will notice our tense expressions.

Mrs. Christiansen seems delighted as she turns off the classroom lights and proceeds with her presentation. "I am so excited that we have our partners. Okay, so, for our literature project this quarter, we will discuss the literary works of Romantic stories. You will find a folder inside your desks with a file on your famous couple and a novel. I want you to look at them and choose what you want to do. You will have until the end of the period to review the information and discuss it with your partner. Then, tomorrow, you will give me a composite of what project you chose. You may begin!" She waves her hands up in the air in encouragement. Mikhail and I gaze at each other, our faces set in obstinate pouts. I observe as he opens his desk, then I open mine. Inside is a manila folder with the novel. Opening the cover, I read the title and grimace. The book that was given to us is Cleopatra and Marc Anthony. WTF! 

Mikhail lets out a disgusted snort and tosses the book onto the table, inciting my ire. "What's wrong? You don't like to read?" I ask cattily. I don't know what it is about him that rubs me the wrong way. Mikhail looks at me and crosses his arms over his chest with a sneer. As if of their own volition, my eyes are drawn to his muscled arms. I might not like him, but he's seriously gorgeous, which is so unfair. 

"Just another boring book to me," he replies drily. My heart speeds up at his words. Does this mean that he's not going to help me? Oh, this is not good. I need to fix things between us before I fail Lit. Wanting to smooth things out between us, I lean forward in my chair and say. "Look, Mikhail, I really want to do well in this class, so can you please take this seriously?" 

Mikhail leans forward, lays his hand on the book, then glances over at me. "Well, princess, this looks like your problem, not mine." I look around the room and watch as the partners animatedly discuss their projects. In fact, the only partners not talking about their projects are Mikhail and me. Gripping Mikhail by his shoulder, I grit my teeth and stare daggers at him. But Mikhail is unfazed by my anger. Regarding my hand on his shoulder, he looks back at me and quirks a contemptuous brow. From the expression on his face, I can tell that my anger is leaving him unmoved.

Seeing that my anger is making things worse, I breathe and give him a pleading smile. My future depends on his agreement. If I fail Lit, I will lose my chance at a writing scholarship to Cal State. And my dreams of being a writer will be shattered forever. Biting my lip, I move closer and whisper, "Please, Mikhail, this is important." 

For a moment, his eyes soften and home in on my lips. He licks his lips as he considers my plea. Then he snaps out of it. His face closes off, and his body stiffens. "Sorry, princess, this is not my thing," he replies icily before tossing the book across my desk. 

The ending bell rings, startling me from my thoughts. However, I don't give up. Instead, I follow Mikhail out the door, grasp his forearm, and pull him back to face me. "Wait…Mikhail!" 

He stops and gazes at me with an annoyed frown. "Look, princess, what does it matter? I'm just a criminal who shouldn't be allowed to attend this school. Right?"

My body tenses as he echoes my cruel words from earlier. "Listen, Mikhail, what I said was stupid. I'm sorry, okay? Please, help me." Mikhail tilts his head with a serious expression. I'm sure that he's trying to gauge my honesty, and I'm hoping he can see my sincerity. Because I really do regret calling him a criminal. It was uncalled for and unfair, considering that I don't know him that well. 

"I'll think about it," he mutters before walking away and leaving me standing there, feeling unsure. 

I almost jump out of my skin when Jez walks up to me, loops her arm through mine, and leads me down the hallway. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nod my head. "Yeah, I'm fine. I have a Student Council meeting right now. Can we talk later?" 

Before I can move, Jez steps in front of me and mutters with concern, "You're not eating lunch again? Seriously, girl, you're spreading yourself too thin these days. What am I going to tell Travis?" 

Shaking my head, I make my way to the library. "Sorry, Jez, I just have a lot to do. We'll do lunch tomorrow. I promise." Jez gives me one last serious look, then shrugs and walks away. She knows there's no point in arguing with me when I've made up my mind to do something.

Fortunately, the rest of the day is less eventful. Unfortunately, I seem to have most of my classes with Mikhail and Rowan. During physics and computer class, Mikhail and Rowan sit in the back and mess around. I try to ignore them, but it's hard to do when I hear them muttering and gesturing in my direction.

Once the class is over, I make my way to the front door, sighing with frustration when I see that Travis is waiting for me. I don't want to deal with him right now. 

Giving me a confident smile, he runs his hands through his cropped hair and waves at me. His letterman jacket fits his beefy shoulders perfectly. Travis is cute in a boy-next-door kind of way. His body is stocky and muscular; he's six feet tall with blue eyes and golden hair. All in all, he's the perfect package. Any girl at school would kill to be with him. Too bad that I'm just not interested anymore. 

He leans his shoulder on the doorframe when I approach and exhales. "Hey babe, I just wanted to let you know that I have late practice all week. The coach has been riding us hard since we lost the home game, which means that I won't be able to take you home." He looks at me repentantly and wraps his arm around my waist with a sorry smile. "Can you forgive me?" 

Giving him a reassuring nod, I take a step back and loosen his hold on my waist. "It's okay. I've been so busy lately that maybe it's easier if I just drive myself to school. Go to practice, and we'll talk later." His face brightens with relief at my words. It's almost sad because I know he can't see that my attitude is more about indifference than about me letting him off the hook. 

Leaning down, he kisses my forehead and whispers, "Okay, babe, I'll call you later." Before he walks away, he flicks my hair playfully. I wave him away as I stride to my car. I really need to break it off with Travis. Maybe I'll call Jez and discuss it tonight. Hopefully, she'll be able to take a break.

Last year Jez's father's company went under. He was an accountant for some firm until the company went bankrupt. Unfortunately, they couldn't afford to pay him a severance package, so he was left jobless and penniless. He didn't let it bring him down, though. Instead, he made the decision to open a gastropub. Thankfully, the restaurant is very successful. The downside, though, is that Jez works there every day after school. The only time off she gets is when we travel for cheer or if there's an important school activity that she can't miss. Unlike before, we no longer have time to hang out. I won't pretend that it doesn't hurt or that I'm not lonely. But I understand that she needs to help her family. I guess that's what family does. 

Well, every family but mine. Or at least I'd like to think that other families aren't as messed up as mine. When I was a little girl, I used to see my house as a sanctuary. My dad used to swing me onto his shoulders, and my mom would have dinner ready with a smile. I used to sit in a tree swing my dad built for me and pretend I was a princess. My mom and I would sit in it all the time and read fairy tales. Passing by the swing, I run my finger across the ivory-colored backrest and reminisce. My father built the swing after I told him that I wanted one. I was eight years old at the time. My mom used to read me this book about a lonely girl who lived in a forest. The little girl used to sit on a swing and wish for love and a family. One day, as she was sitting on the swing, her true love found her. I told my mom that I wanted a swing too so that my true love could find me. That was the last time I remember my mom and dad being happy. The swing is the only happy memory I have left. Sometimes, when I feel lonely, I sit on the swing and dream of a better life.

It's funny how things change. Now, I hate coming home. I don't know when it began. But suddenly, home-cooked meals were a grudge match. My mom would make something, and my dad would criticize it. At some point, all home-cooked meals became nonexistent. Dad would work late, and mom would travel for work. They pretty much ghosted me. My dad rarely speaks to me, and my mom is too busy to say a word. Sometimes I feel like they've forgotten that I exist. 

The driveway is quiet and solemn when I get home, which tells me that my parents aren't inside. Like the home itself, I feel empty and lonely. "Mom, Dad, I'm home!" I yell out sarcastically as soon as I walk through the doorway. Of course, I know no one is home; I guess it lessens the impact when I say it.

Stifling my melancholy, I dump my bag near the door and kick it across the floor. My cell phone buzzes. I reach into my bag and look at the screen. It's my mom. 

"Mom—" Before I begin, she interrupts. "Nevaeh, I'm not going to be home tonight. I have to fly to Montreal on business for a week. I left some money on the counter; buy some pizza for dinner. Hopefully, your father will be home tonight. Gotta run…" I open my mouth to respond, but the sound of the line going dead tells me it's futile. 

Tightening my hand on my phone, I turn it off and walk towards the kitchen counter. "Sounds like pizza is on the menu tonight."

Mikhail:

I stroll into the living room of our new home. Home, what a joke. The SC (Supernatural Council) placed us here because they don’t know what to do with us. Unfortunately, like the human world, the supernatural world is also full of orphans. According to the system, my parents are unknown. I was found in an abandoned warehouse. Unfortunately, no one stepped up to claim me, so they placed me in a home for supernatural kids. The problem is that, unlike human homes, our jailers have to make sure we aren’t using our powers or killing innocents by mistake. In my case, the Council keeps a very close eye on me. Apparently, being the son of an Archangel and a Demon is considered taboo. The council members call me an abomination. The Angels hate me, and the Demons don’t know what to do about me. According to my Nephilim friend, Kara, there has never been a mating recorded between an Angel and a Demon. Such relationships are not just unthinkable but dangerous because of the ambiguity of our powers. Apparently, having the powers of a divine being and a demon is not a good mix.

Angels have lived on earth for thousands of years. According to the Angels’ ancient scripts, the Creator wanted us to learn free will. Therefore, after Lucifer’s fall, the Creator gave all angels a one-way ticket to earth, took a vacation, and let us deal with all the havoc Lucifer brought to humans. We are now considered part of the supernatural world, which is made up of all kinds of creatures. There are angels, werewolves, demons, and so on. We all live by a set of special rules. Never hurt humans, never tell a human about us, and live under the radar. If we break one of those rules, the Council will come after us. Similar to humans, we try to live a normal life.

I remember the first time that my wing tattoos came out. One of the house fathers tried to exorcise me. He tied me to a chair and tried to cut the tattooed wings from my back. I was eight at the time. Needless to say, I ran away. That’s when I met my foster brother, Rowan. Rowan is a vampire. He was drinking blood from a drug dealer the first time I ran into him. He thought I was some stupid kid and tried to take a sip. That night, I flew him up into the air and dropped him from a building’s roof. We became friends after that. We were fine for a while, scaring humans with his fangs and my wings.

Unfortunately, our little scheme came to an end when the SC found us. We were running through the streets, trying to hustle humans for money. Rowan would trance humans into giving up some cash, and I would fly us out of the scene. Rowan was thirteen at the time, and I was fourteen. Our powers were not quite developed. An agent of the Council caught us and placed us back in the system. Rowan and I stuck together. The Council thought we were too strong and were about to execute us until Alexander Shepard, an agent for the Council, stepped up and offered a solution. Alex is half-vampire and half-human. He offered to provide us both a home. After that, he chose to foster a few more boys and teach us how to control our powers.

Apparently, Alex had been in a similar situation. Unlike us, though, he was fortunate to be adopted. Long story short, he thought we would become useful agents for the Council. We just needed training. At first, Rowan and I were weary. But Alex was legit. Alex has been training us all. Carrick and Kell came a year after we moved in with Alex. They were thirteen at the time. We’ve been a weird hodgepodge family since. Carrick is a werewolf, and Kell is a Seraphim. Somehow, we made it work. That is until the Council decided to move us to Arcata, California. They say they want us to go to school and assimilate with humans. I hate it. We were fine learning from Alex. Why do we need to learn any of these human things anyway?

Rowan, Kell, and Carrick walk in, interrupting my musings. They race past me, pushing each other with boyish amusement. Rowan stops next to me. “Just another day in hell. High School wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be.” He says as he drops his bag down next to the door.

Alex comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel. “Hey, boys. How was school today?”

I grunt, scrunching my face up into a grimace, walk into the living room, and throw myself into the sofa. Frowning, Alex turns to Rowan with a questioning look.

Rowan smiles widely, tilting his head in my direction. “I thought it was great. We got to meet some really hot girls. Especially one cheerleader that caught Khail’s eye. What was her name again, Khail?”

I raise my eyebrow and shrug my shoulders, refusing to play this game, but Rowan persists. “You know the hot one with long dark hair and the killer body.”

He sits next to me, elbowing me in the chest. “Sorry, bro, I have no clue,” I said stonily.

Unfortunately, when it comes to Rowan, you have to tread carefully. He’s a typical vampire. When he smells blood, he goes on the attack. Maintaining a calm façade, I lean back and let him continue his little game. “That’s funny…” he says, looking at Alex incredulously. The faker! “…cause I could have sworn I saw her fall into your arms while we were in the hallway. Isn’t Nevaeh your Lit partner? Oh...I know, it was…Nessa? No, it was Nadia?”

My jaw begins to tighten. Why does he have to bring her up? From the moment I spotted Nevaeh this morning, I thought she was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Too bad she turned out to be such a raging bitch. It pissed me off to hear her call us criminals.

That’s probably why when she found out that I was her Lit partner, I took a lot of pleasure in seeing her squirm.

Rowan continues his reminiscing, not noticing my calm anger. “Well, whatever her name was, you should have seen this girl. She has long legs, a tight ass, nicely shaped breasts, and long hair. Whoo-whee, she was freaking hot!”

The rank bastard fans himself smiling. Not wanting to play any longer, I get up. “Whatever, man. What’s for dinner, Alex?” I ask before Alex can question Rowan and me any further. I get up, walking towards the kitchen. “Since tonight is our first night here, I thought we could celebrate by having some pizza.

At the sound of the word Pizza, Carrick and Kell run in. “PIZZA! Sweet,” I roll my eyes and take a seat, watching with humor as Carrick takes several pieces and shoves them into his mouth. I sit there quietly, chewing, oblivious to the conversation. Then, I hear the name I’ve been avoiding for the past few hours.

Kell wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and mumbles excitedly. “Her name is Nevaeh. We heard she was your Lit partner. She’s hot. You are so lucky!”

Alex gives me another inquiring look, which pisses me off. “Look, guys. I don’t want to talk about this girl. I heard her call us criminals. She’s a total bitch. So, I wouldn’t waste my time thinking about her. Now, can we talk about much more important topics?”

Carrick and Kell nod in agreement. Rowan, on the other hand, gives me a “this is not over” look. I roll my eyes and chew my pizza slice. Alex breaks the silence. “Other than the “hottest” girl in school, is there anything else you want to share? Do you like your classes?”

Carrick lowers his head grimacing. “The classes are cool, except for Algebra. I hate Algebra.” I smiled, shaking my head. “Yeah, at least you don’t have Literature.”

Alex gives me a pitying look. “Sorry, kid, it’s a graduation requirement. Suck it up.”

I get up from the table, taking a deep breath. I can feel my wings straining against my back restlessly. The boys must notice my agitation because they instantly quiet down. They know that I need a moment. Being part Angel and part Demon means that my two sides are constantly warring with each other. Alex told me that until I learn to control both, I’m going to have issues.

After dinner, we all congregate in the living room and sit down to do homework together. When we’re done, we just hang out. The boys play with their Xbox while Rowan is on his laptop playing online. I usually just draw in my sketchbook. Every time we do this, I feel contentment wash over me. It feels good to know that I have a family now. This time though, I feel restless. I don’t know how, but Alex notices.

Brow furrowed, he sits next to me on the couch. “Hey kid, are you okay?”

I nod my head subconsciously, doodling in my notebook. “I’m fine.”

Alex leans his elbows on his knees. It’s funny to think of Alex as a father figure because even though he is hundreds of years old, he looks a few years older than me. He’s more like our big brother. In fact, Alex looks a lot like Rowan, with his golden hair and eyes.

His eyes focus on me as if trying to read me. “Are you sure, Khail? You know you can tell me anything, kid.”

Wearily I lean my head back, looking at the ceiling. “It’s just… I don’t know. Moving here…I feel uncomfortable. Like an itch in my wings that I can’t reach. Like something is missing.”

I look at Alex, urging him to understand. He looks thoughtful as he leans back on the couch’s pillow. “Look, Khail…you’re getting older.” He says, turning his head to look at me. “Things have to change. To be honest, I don’t think this has anything to do with living here. I think it’s something else.”

I turn my head and quirk a questioning brow. “Oh Yeah, if it’s not the move, then what do you think it is?”

Alex takes my sketchbook from my lap and turns it towards me. “It might be this.” He says, pointing to the picture in the book.

I sit up, surprised by what I see. I was so distracted that I did not notice what I was drawing. I’m beyond shocked. It’s a picture of Nevaeh. She’s sitting in her chair, twirling her hair around her finger as she gazes down at something in front of her. I look at Alex, who maintains a blank look. “Maybe you’re feeling this way because something is missing.” I glance back down at the picture, not noticing that Alex has gotten up and walked away and shake my head vehemently. “No way. This is not happening.”

Without a word, I tear the picture from the notebook and ball it up. However, I can’t make myself throw it away. Instead, I place it in my pocket and walk out of the room.

Slamming my bedroom door behind me, I run my fingers through my hair and pace around the room. My wings strain behind my back, desperate to come out. Removing my shirt, I walk over to the mirror and inspect my back. My tattooed wings glow and strain. I flex my back as the tattoo begins to vibrate until my wings retract. I strain my neck with relief as they flex and flutter. I hate keeping my wings hidden because it can be very painful. I guess the best way to describe it is that it feels like a stretch after a long day of sitting in one position. My wings flair, stirring the air around me. I don’t have tiny cherub wings. No, my wings stretch above my head and brush the floor. They are all black with white tips.

Alex says that’s how they know that my mother, whoever she was, was an Archangel. My demon side is shown through the color change in my eyes. Angels have white/silver eyes, and Demons have neon green eyes and fangs. My eyes are neon green, and I have fangs. Angels don’t develop tattoos as wings. They have wings from the moment they are born. Demons develop tattoos that turn into wings. However, their wings are leathery and clawed; instead of feathered. That’s how they know that I’m a hybrid.

I ball up my hands and flutter my wings around the room. Suddenly, my bedroom door erupts into a series of knocks. My wings instantly retract back into my body. Carrick, Rowan, and Kell are knocking and whispering excitedly.

Annoyed at my brother’s antics, I open the door. Carrick and Kell slump on the ground clumsily. Rowans remains in the doorway, laughing at their antics. “What the hell are you doing knocking on the door like that? What’s going on?” I ask with an annoyed growl.

Carrick and Kell rise from the ground and fix their clothes. “Man, you won’t believe this…” Kell and Carrick say in unison, “She lives across the street, dude!”

I look at Rowan. “What the hell is going on, Rowan?” Rowan smiles mischievously, places his hand on my shoulder, and steers me toward the window. “It’s better for you to see it so you can believe it, brother.”

Brow furrowed, I look out the window, confused. “What am I looking at?”

Sighing with frustration, Rowan places his hand on my neck and points to the house across the street. I blink my eyes several times at the sight that greets me. Sitting in the lawn swing across the street is none other than Nevaeh Rivera. She’s wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a very tight, nearly translucent t-shirt. There’s a book in front of her, but she’s not reading it. Instead, her eyes are gazing intently up at the sky. I look at Rowan, who is not looking at the view, but at me. “Looks like your girlfriend lives across the street.”

Jaw tight, I turn away from the breathtaking sight of Nevaeh Rivera and lie on my bed with my hands behind my head. It annoys me to see that Carrick and Kell are still looking out the window.

“She’s not my girlfriend, and who cares where she lives.” I shrug nonchalantly, even though, inside, I can feel my heart beating fast.

Rowan shrugs his shoulders and pulls Carrick and Kell away from the window. “Okay, freaks enough. I don’t think Khail would appreciate you ogling his girlfriend.”

I give Rowan an annoyed look and roll my eyes. “Whatever, man.” Rowan winks and laughs mockingly as he ushers the boys out of the room.

I try to avoid looking out the window, but curiosity draws me back. As carefully as I can, I walk toward the window. My heart beats quickly, and my mouth dries. I feel nervous and unsure, and I don’t like it. Drawing back the curtain, I observe Nevaeh. Seeing her lying there looking sad somehow makes me forget that she called me a criminal.

I don’t know how long I stand there, but somehow, I feel lighter. Resigned, I pull out my sketchbook and begin to draw. It’s a compulsion that I cannot resist. When I’m done, I appraise the drawing and take a deep breath. I feel drained yet energized at that the same time. My body is sweating as if I’ve run for miles, and my skin feels sensitive. All I can think about is walking across the street and kissing Nevaeh’s beautiful lips.

As if sensing my appraisal, Nevaeh rises from the swing and looks directly at my window. I move back, certain that she cannot see me, yet still feeling like a creeper.

Adding to my fascination, Nevaeh stretches her arms out in the air. Her thin top rises over her firm stomach and contours to her chest. I can feel the saliva collecting in my mouth with every sensual movement she makes. Licking my lips, I run my eyes over her bare legs, stomach, cleavage, and beautiful face, hungrily. Unaware of my thoughts, Nevaeh lowers her arms back down and turns to gather her book.

My eyes stay glued to her profile as she walks back into the house. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking, but before she walks into the house, she turns around and looks at my window again. I’d like to believe that what I am seeing in her eyes is longing, but it’s just wishful thinking on my part.

Reluctantly, my eyes remain focused on the front door until long after she’s gone. Clutching my sketchbook, I lay back down on my bed to admire my sketch. I’m amazed at what I created. In the picture, Nevaeh’s lying on a meadow with her arms are stretched over her head and her beautiful hair strewn across the meadow wildly. My eyes hungrily devour the scene in the picture. Nevaeh’s wearing a white gown with the ends folded temptingly over the top of her thighs, and her beautiful eyes are staring longingly at me. This confuses me. I don’t understand why I feel this way about her. What I do know is that I can’t let these feelings go any further.

Resigned, I wait for the sky to darken. I need to stretch my wings, and I can’t do it during the day. I can’t risk being discovered. The night sky is so beautiful with its velvety indigo cloak and twinkling stars. I close my eyes and savor the freedom as the wind rushes through my wings.

When I fly, I feel as if I’m the only person in the world. The stars twinkle, and the breeze caress my wings like a hypnotic caress.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I hear a scream. Searching below me, I can see a woman running from a couple of men. I land on the nearest rooftop and observe as the woman desperately scrambles to escape their threatening forms. The men eventually catch up with her and trap her in a nearby alley. She cries out, grabs a piece of fallen wood, and tries to defend herself.

The men surround her, laughing and mocking her attempts to defeat them. She’s small and outnumbered.

My fangs sprout from my gums, and my eyes glow as the predator in me rises from its dormant state. I watch as the men circled the helpless female. It’s time to teach them a lesson. Covering my head with my hood, I drop down behind them. They didn’t know what hit them. The woman wastes no time running away from us. I grab one by his collar and push him against a nearby wall. The man’s body slumps on the ground, unconscious. Before the other one can attack, I punch him in the face and knock him out. Brushing my hands, I observe the unconscious men for a moment. They weren’t much of a challenge. But then again, they were going against a Hybrid.

I’m about to fly away when a voice breaks through the eerie silence. “Well, look what we have here.”

Retracting my wings, I turn to face the voice. In front of me is a man about a few years older than me. Unlike any ordinary man, though, his eyes are glowing green, and his smirk shows some fang. Demon. Moving closer, he looks me over in speculation. “Mm, your eyes glow like a demon, but your wings are not demonic. What are you, boy?”

I smolder at his words and tighten my fists. “That’s none of your damn business, demon, and I’m not a boy.”

The demon throws his head back, laughing wildly. He and I are at even height. However, where I am dark, he is fair. His golden hair gleams in the moonlight as his muscled chest reverberates with humor. Crossing his arms, he smirks again. “To me, you are a boy. Now, what are you doing skulking around my territory, boy? Didn’t anyone tell you that’s a no, no?”

Narrowing my eyes, I bravely stand my ground. “As I said before, what I’m doing here is none of your business.” Turning my back on the demon, I unfurl my wings and fly away.

Unfortunately, the demon does not want to be ignored. He also unfurls his bat-like wings and follows behind me until he’s next to me. To my shock, he turns to me and kicks me in the chest. Crying out, I lose focus and fall on the roof of a building. My body jolts with the impact.

The demon glides smoothly onto the roof, standing a few feet away, his gaze calculating my movements.

My knees scrape against the roof as I lie there, clutching my stomach in pain. It felt as if I was hit by a wrecking ball.

The demon reaches his hand out to help me up, but I’m pissed. What an asshole!

Slapping his hand away, I rise on my own and eye him warily. He looks unruffled, which makes me angrier. Pulling my fist back, I punch him in the face. His body stumbles slightly, but he instantly rights himself. The asshole has the nerve to wipe his mouth and laugh harder.

This sets me off. Before I know it, we're in an all-out brawl. To an average bystander, it would look like a scene from “The Matrix.” We’re very well matched, which enrages me. After a few minutes, we’re both lying on the ground, chests heaving, and our bodies bloody and ragged.

Spitting some blood from his mouth, the demon quirks a brow. “What an insolent pup you are a boy.” He says in a hackney voice. Backing away, I flutter my wings in anger. “Screw you!”

He laughs again and holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, mate, you’re not my type. Now, who are you, and what are you doing fluttering around my territory?”

I look around the roof and narrow my eyes. “I don’t know who you are, dude. Why would I tell you who I am?” Smiling, he gives me a mocking bow. “Fair enough. My name is Azazel. I’ve been master of this territory for nearly two-hundred years. Now, I will ask you again. Who are you?”

My jaw feels raw, where he landed a punch. Thankfully supernatural beings heal quickly. All my bruises should be gone by morning. “I’m Mikhail, and I was not aware that this was anyone’s territory.”

Azazel holds his hand out for a handshake and waits. Keeping a wary eye out, I extend my hand and shake his. “You have bollocks, boy. Not many would be mental enough to trespass on my territory. Because of that, I will give you a pass. But next time you show your bloody arse around here, I will rip your wings from your body. Am I clear, mate?”

I release my wings and float up into the air with a growl. Before I leave, I turn around and give him the finger. His laughter follows me all the way home.