“If I speak in the tongues of men and angels,
but have not love,
I have become sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.
And if I have prophecy and know all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing.”

1 Corinthians 13:1-2, NIV



“Hey baby, I don't wanna be your Superman,
I just wanna be your man and I'll be super, baby.
You'll be standin' in the sunshine,
I'll be standin' right here in the rain.
You save me and I will save the day.”

“Save the Day” by Train.









Chapter One:  Dead Girl Walking

Three hundred and sixty-five days are enough for a person to learn almost anything, even how the first and last one can hurt so much worse than all the ones in between.
The year before I hadn’t known a plane could crash, taking out all the parts of myself I loved most, while I lay hundreds of miles away in a strange bed, covered in chicken pox and a bottle of Calamine lotion, both of which my three-year-old niece had generously shared with me.
But now I knew my body could breathe and pulse, walk and talk even when my spirit struggled to comprehend such a huge loss; when I would’ve sworn I’d broken apart so entirely that my pieces should have floated away all on their own.
And I knew today would hurt the most, though I’d pretend otherwise for the sake of familial peace.
I took to the stairs wearing my best ‘well-adjusted teenage girl’ costume.  Jeans, non-descript tee, and my favorite sneaks.   My book-bag weighed a ton, pushing me toward the kitchen, but halfway there the hushed whispers of my aunt and uncle stopped me in my tracks.
“I’m worried about her, Timothy.  With everything she’s been through, and today being what it is . . .”
“Yes it’s difficult, but she has to find her own way.  We’re doing the best we can in giving her a safe, loving home.”
“It isn’t difficult.  It’s impossible to imagine how devastated Jocelyn must be today.  Losing my sister doesn’t compare with her losing a mother.”
Whoa!  Enough of that!
I let my bag clunk against the wall the rest of the way.  The voices cut off at the first bang like someone flipping a switch.  By the time I rounded the corner to see Gracie sitting in her booster seat contemplating the strawberry swirls in her oatmeal Aunt Catherine stood near Uncle Tim, innocently sliding bacon onto his plate while he wrote last-minute notes on a legal pad for his teaching assistant just like every other morning.
Nothing odd here.  Certainly no talk of your dead parents, no siree Bob!
“How’re you this morning, cutie?” I asked, bending over to kiss my four-year-old cousin’s beaming, oatmeal-streaked face.  Mouth stuffed with breakfast, she giggled and pointed to her lips.  “Oh, forgive me,” I grinned.  “Miss Manners taught you well, I see.”
The coffee brewed on the far counter making a full-on advance necessary if I wanted my morning I.Q.-booster.  I took a mug from the cabinet, seeing a frantic glance from one adult to the other shooting over my head.  “Aunt Catherine, I’m sixteen.  I really don’t think you can blame coffee for stunting my growth at this point.”
Uncle Tim cleared his throat.  “It’s not the coffee, Joss.  We’re just a little concerned about the date.  You could stay home if you wanted, considering . . .”
Houston, we have a problem.
“No that’s fine, really.  I’d much rather go--you know, lose myself in the routine and everything.  Jules’ll be there and a little factoid like privacy rights won’t keep her from letting you know if I look like I’m in over my head.  Besides, you know what they say, ‘School waits for no teenager’.”
He took the hint and changed the subject.  “Okay.  Well . . . give me a call if you you’re coming by for lunch.”
“Will do.”
I gulped down a last swallow of Liquid Brain, looked guiltily at my aunt and downed the glass of orange juice next to my empty plate in atonement for the coffee, then grabbed my coat and scarf.  Two seconds to say bye later I escaped out the door to find sanctuary in the BMW idling in the driveway.
My best friend Jules sat behind the wheel.  “I wonder if you’ll ever acclimate to Virginia weather, Jocelyn.  Honestly, it’s been months.  One might think you’re purposely fighting off adaption,” she laughed.
“I wasn’t running because it’s cold, dork.  Today’s ‘Treat Joss Like a Psych Patient Day’ inside”—I raised a hand to ward off whatever comment might be coming—“and before you ask, no I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then you’re obligated to love me for rescuing you from something as healthy as confronting your demons.”
“I will love you as any time you have a toasty Beamer waiting for me.”
“Don’t forget it’ll be your turn to drive next Monday.  And make sure you warm the Eos up beforehand,” she warned, mentioning my new wheels.  It’d turned out airlines dealt with fatal crashes by dumping piles of money into the laps of passengers’ surviving family.  I hadn’t wanted to touch it but so far the only thing my aunt and uncle had insisted on was a car when I turned sixteen.
“I’ll make a mental note.  You guys leaving for Aspen right after school?” I asked.
“This evening, or I’d invite you to hide out at my house later.”
I sighed.  “Yeah.  It’s probably better if I go home, let the legals see I’m not on the verge of slitting my wrists.”
Jules’ face crinkled up in disapproval.  “Catherine and Tim care more about you than you give them credit for.”
“I know, but family isn’t like a sports team.  You can’t just trade out teammates if one goes down.  They aren’t my parents and—as much as I adore the urchin—Gracie isn’t Eric.”
As if saying his name summoned him the image of my handsome older filled my mind; he’d inherited Dad’s dark good looks, whereas I mostly resembled Mom, with her porcelain skin and tiny frame.
“Let’s just get me through today and I’ll work on appreciating them more during fall break.  What else would I do while you’re off hitting the slopes?”
                                                               *****
Navigating the clogged arteries of Lee High School’s halls required mastering an art form of limb-dodging and squeezing between spaces not normally reserved for the human body to pass through.  I wound my way between kissing couples, sneaking smokers, and furtive freaks alike, the grand master of stealth then finally, like a kid playing tag, held my breath for that last sprint to safety, sinking into my homeroom desk, exhaling “Base!”
And then he said my name.
A moment later something whooshed by my ear, making me jump and look up from the messy stack of notebooks I’d arranged on the desk.  Across the room Drew Christian, the only one of my classmates who could tempt me into a conversation, smiled at me in apology.  He nodded at the floor by my feet where a rainbow-striped hacky sack rested next to my left heel, then called a thanks when I tossed it back to him, his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.  If I’d smiled back he probably would have come over, but unfortunately I chickened out and pretended to be really busy with my papers.  It was one thing to avoid all the other kids because I didn’t want to have to take my show on the road but entirely different when dealing with a ‘crush at first sight’ situation.
When the bell rang Drew slid into his own desk, folded his legs under the table, and began tapping a pencil against his thigh to some internal rhythm.  I sighed, wishing I had more guts.
Kids trickled into the room, getting settled while Mrs. Meyer called roll.  I didn’t look up when she said, “Oliviero”, muttering my usual ‘here’ and keeping my head down.  No one expected anything else; for almost twelve months I’d held them all too far away,  making sure they couldn’t ask the questions I couldn’t bear to answer.  
Meyer continued down her list ticking off each name but the room’s quiet murmur stilled when she called the name ‘Solis’.  Bodies swiveled to face the center desk where a new kid sprawled in his seat.  When he heard his name he lifted a black-gloved hand in acknowledgement, two fingers raised above the rest.  Almost-white blond hair spilled back from his beautiful, compelling face; pale features cut a sharp fineness around eyes that blazed a degree too brightly, like storm clouds lit from behind.  For a moment they met mine and something in the pit of my stomach recoiled, because he’d stared at me with an awful clarity, like he knew just how messed up  I really was, but the sudden, crazy feeling he could fix it all scared me the most.
I dropped my eyes to his chest to escape that look and noticed how his silver-grey sweater outlined wide shoulders and a smooth abdomen, and a pair of darker grey cords wrapped around his legs.  He pulled the colorless outfit off where most guys couldn’t have.
Lee’s typical ‘It’ girl, Chrissy Anderson, gaped at him her mouth working open and closed like a goldfish.  I’d bet even money she’d have his phone number before the day ended . . . unless he went for Jules’s brand of sable-haired sultriness.  If he knew what was good for him he’d take with his fellow fair-haired goddess’s offer; my practical best friend would chew him up and spit him out.
                                                              *****
I still felt off-kilter after school so I grabbed Jules at the lockers to let her know I wanted a little alone time and wouldn’t need a ride.  Jules accepted my explanation without comment; I’d wandered around Staunton for months and so far the most dangerous thing I’d encountered had been Mrs. Anderson’s schnauzer, Hippolyta.  If a dog could yap a girl to death I’d be six feet under already.
I got home just as Aunt Catherine pulled something that smelled delicious out of the oven; the scrape of the opening door clashed with the wistful humming coming from the kitchen.  I didn’t recognize the song, but then again Aunt Catherine and Uncle Tim often enjoyed things from some bygone era, a faraway simpler time, though neither of them had made it out of their thirties.  It’d taken me a while to get used to finding them waltzing around the dining table but these days I took it all for granted.
I hung my coat up on the rack and squatted to wrestle my shoes off.  The shuffling must have tipped Aunt Catherine off to my presence, because she called for me to get ready for dinner.
“And would you mind setting the table?” she added, ducking her head around the doorframe.  “I’m about to be up to my elbows in salad greens.”
I smiled, remembering her first few attempts at teaching me to cook.  They’d failed so miserably she now stuck to assigning me things that didn’t require heat, or at the very least just needed a good nuking.
I came back from washing my hands to find her sliding a tray of rolls into the now-empty oven.  She smiled at me in her soft way as she continued humming.  Her compassionate glace made me feel ashamed.
Jules’s right; Aunt Catherine and Uncle Tim deserve something more from me.
I began laying out the flat-wear and she returned to a bowl of fluffy greens.  “Hey, what’s that song?”  I asked, trying to alleviate some of my guilt.  “It’s been the same one for a couple days now, right?”
Her smile took on a dreamy note.  “It’s an old Gershwin tune called ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’, a favorite of mine, but lately I can’t seem to get it out of my head.  Isn’t that odd?  Your uncle played Jimmy Winters in the play, you know.”
The uncle in question walking into the room as if on cue, slid his briefcase onto the bar, and kissed his wife’s cheek.
I stared at him.  “Really?  You sang in something?”
“Is your aunt telling on me again?  I assume you refer to my singular attempt at acting.  Don’t look so flabbergasted.  We’re braver about a lot of things when we’re young, but I expect you’ll learn that for yourself, Joss.  Take your chances while you’re still new enough to believe they’ll pay off.”
                                                               *****
After helping with the clean-up effort I spent some time playing with Gracie.    One bathtime adventure and two Dora stories later she slumped in my lap, ready to hit the sack.  We finished up with goodnight kisses and prayers and then I headed down the hall to my room.
I didn’t want to start anything new so I pulled an old book out from my backpack and absently flipped through its pages until I started yawning forty-five minutes later, glad the cursed day had almost ended.
With my waist-long hair re-braided, teeth brushed, and face washed I curled into bed and pulled the covers high over my shoulders.  
In the dark it didn’t matter how empty I’d become.  I could be as hollow as I wanted.  By the time I managed unconsciousness I’d cried enough to turn my pillow into a soggy mess, but the tears were wasted, doing nothing to fill me back up.  I fell asleep with the date blazing behind my gritty eyelids like a neon sign:  October fifteenth.
Happy Anniversary to me.
                                                           *****
Stop staring at me.  Stop staring at me or I'll march over there and smack you silly . . .
I had the park all to myself with the one exception, but the Solis kid ignored my command and continued watching me.  If I could will him away all would be right with the world.
Oh, come on!  I just want to sit under my tree and read my book for a little while, listen to some tunes in peace.  It’s not too much to ask.
He didn’t budge, and luckily for him, I didn’t have it in me to really hit anyone.  A shame for me though; a little senseless violence might do me some good.  Not exactly a Zen outlook, but then wasn’t violence a passionate emotion?  I hadn’t been passionate about anything in forever.  
Careful not to let him see I sneaked a look from beneath my lashes at where he leaned against the far lamppost.  He waited, relaxed, careless, his arms crossed loosely in front of him, but his gaze didn’t match.  It bored into me, too intense, too focused.
What’s up with that stare?  Why do I feel like he knows everything about me?
I fumbled for my handy-dandy Mp3 player, turning it up until it blared a ‘burst your eardrums’ volume, and then forced myself to concentrate on my novel.
I loved the book mostly because the hero boasted supernatural perfection but loved an ordinary girl.  I, being the personification of ordinary, totally identified with the heroine.  Actually, she had it better off, being fictional and all.  Major tragedy can make even a real girl a minor character in her own life.
A flash of light drew my attention to the fluffy white splotches freckling the otherwise clear expanse of blue sky.  The lack of storm clouds didn’t surprise me--the hills and hollows of the Shenandoah Valley were notorious for their extremely schizo behavior--however, the silence following the lightning did; the expected boom of thunder never came.  Still, lightning meant rain and rain meant time to go.  I wrapped up my headphones, tucked my book safely away in my backpack, and straightened my blue knit cap.
A breeze tickled the wisps of hair that escaped the moorings of my knot, the curl of wind drifting passed my ear carrying someone’s words with it.  
Why is my Cinderella still so sad?  She should be well on her way to winning over Charming, not hiding in the grass like one of her skittish mouse friends.
Smiling, I looked around for a couple hidden somewhere close-by, but only the usual scenery greeted me.  Even Park Boy had left.
                                                       *****
I woke from my afternoon nap to find Gracie sleeping beside me, and recalled her warm little body worming in with me not long after drifting off.  I slid myself out as quietly as possible, uncurling her tiny fingers from the end of my braid.
After a quick shower to help wake me up I considered the rest of my afternoon—and quickly realized just how devoid of plans it was.  I really didn’t know what to do with myself without Jules around.  How pitiful.
At least today isn’t yesterday.  It’s got that going for it.
I decided to trace a favorite route through town to help me figure something out and finished off a muffin from the basket on the kitchen table while giving Uncle Tim a rundown.
“By the way, Gracie’s conked out in my bed again.”
“Duly noted.”
“I won’t be late.”
“Before dark?”
“Dinnertime at the latest.”
“Call if you need anything.”
“Roger that.”
The conversation lasted approximately ten seconds more than the muffin.  Uncle Tim’s eyes didn’t waver from his newspaper once.  Beautiful.
My walk ended in front of Vinyl, the tiny music shop next to the Bookstack.  I took a much-needed deep breath and walked in on legs that shook because more than likely Drew would be inside, working like he did most weekends.
Sure enough, he stood behind the counter waiting on another customer, but he threw me a distracted grin when I came in.  I ducked behind a rack of CDs for safety’s sake, picking through them until I found one I wanted to check out.
That smile should have a warning label:  Viewer Beware!  Direct Contact Can Cause A Trance-like State.
By the time I scanned most of the new release shelf he’d finished with the customer and nodded at me to come over.  His dimples hit me full-force as he grinned. “Hey, Joss.  How’s things?”
I did my best to disengage my ‘Idiot Gear’ and answered, “Fine, thanks.  You?”
"You know, getting in billable hours.  I’m saving towards a new camera.  My old Nikon’s shot.”
I nodded--As if I don’t have everything about you memorized already--and passed my CD over, a twenty resting on top.
He held up the punk album.  “Out of everyone who comes in here you are by far the most unpredictable.  Last week you bought country, and this week you pick this?”
“That’s me; I like to keep people guessing.”
He grinner bigger and punched numbers into the register.  A flicker of movement in the mirrored wall behind him caught my eye as he got my change out.  Park Boy held up the wall across the street, watching me again.  Drew said something, but I missed it and had to ask him to repeat himself.
“I said break’ll speed by too fast to settle for ‘fine’.  Maybe someone could help you slow it down.”
I wanted to ask if he felt like volunteering but two things stopped me:  One, I still made the Cowardly Lion look like Hercules and two, Park Boy had just given me a disgusted look and shoved himself from the wall, striding down the sidewalk.
That did it!  I scooped up my little sack, mumbled something insensible about Drew having fun too, and scrambled out the door after Sir-Stares-A-Lot.  I might not be able tell an adorable boy I dug him, but Heaven help me if I couldn’t let some jerk know his one-man investigation wasn’t appreciated.
Outside I scanned both sides of the street but he’d disappeared.  A second later I saw a flare of white turning onto Frederick so I took off after it at my top speed.  When I finally caught up with him my breathless, “Hey!” was barely audible, which might have explained why he didn’t turn around.  I yelled louder the second time.  “Hey, hold on!”
He stiffened and slowly turned to face me, disbelief staining his expression.
“Yes, I mean you,” I wheezed from a few feet away.  He looked unconvinced; I had to slap at the hand he waved in front of my face.  He stepped back, his eyes growing rounder.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, stop freaking out.  Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”
He regained his composure as I straightened up.  “I’m sorry.  Did you need something from me, Miss . . .?”
I ignored the subtle request for my name and said, “Yes.  Let’s start with why you’ve been following me.”
“I have no idea to what you’re referring to.”
“Puh-leeze.  You’re everywhere I go lately, staring like I’m some kind of science experiment; first the park and now Vinyl.”
“Begging your pardon, but I haven’t”—
“Yes you have!” I huffed.  “Explain.”
His eye hardened.  “Fine.  I’m guilty of looking at a pretty girl.  Fortunately, finding you’re interesting isn’t a punishable offense, so you’re out of luck if you want to press charges.”
“What an arrogant thing to say!  Look”—
“Sebastien.”
I blanked. “Huh?”
A sardonic grin played at the corners of his mouth. “My name?  It’s Sebastien.  You didn’t bother asking for it so I figured I’d volunteer the information since I’d rather you knew at whom you’re tossing all these accusations.”
And just like that I felt very small.  Seriously, something about this guy stirred me up.  I didn’t like it.  Hadn’t he been rude first?  He’d insulted me!
He went on.  “Now, you were saying . . .?”
“Whatever.  You’ve satisfied your curiosity; there’s nothing even remotely interesting about me so you can go about your own business.”
“Ah,” he murmured, “I bed to differ.  You do all sorts of interesting things.  Take for instance how you blush when trying to flirt with a boy, or how you read outside this late in the year?  Not many people would risk fall weather in the park, even for a good tale.  Most want something that creates a little body heat, gets the heart rate up.”
He practically purred the word ‘heat’, his implication pooling liquid and thick somewhere low in my being.  I backed away; he took stepped closer, keeping the distance between our bodies the same.
“It’s difficult to ignore a lone girl catching up on her library finds, you see.  By the way, do you always talk with your hand whirling about like that, or do you only do it when you’re nervous?”
“Do you always interrupt with random comments?” I countered.  “By all that’s holy, I’m just a girl who loves books more than the average bear.”
“Oh, no.  Now you’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
“A pretty girl with a brain?   It will be impossible to ignore you after learning of your literary prowess.  We’ll just have to see how this plays out.”
I grinned too sweetly, hoping to knock a little of that arrogance out of him.  “Oh, it’s a brilliant beauty you’re looking for . . . in that case, you should allow me to introduce you to my friend, Jules.”
He laughed some more, not seeming the least bit put off.  “I’d rather have you,” he admitted, and then casually turned and walked away, leaving me to squeeze my eyes shut in frustration.  When I opened them again he’d disappeared into the ether, leaving behind a curious tingle filtering through my fingertips.
I’d soon learn to expect it anytime I got near Sebastien Solis.