The next few weeks don’t get any easier. They are no closer to finding Julian. They are getting nervous because none of the leads had worked out. Even Jay was a little less jubilant than he used to be. I don’t know what Marcus told the others, but for the next few days, they let me get some distance. Miku still follows me around everywhere I go, but she gives me more space. They ask about my arm daily. I tell them it was all but healed. They make me go for another checkup. They also pay for me to go to physical therapy even though the doctor said I could do it on my own at home. Aside from that, they are pretty hands-off.

That’s not what I wanted. I didn’t mean that we couldn’t be friends. I just meant that…. Okay, I’m not sure what I meant. But this isn’t good. They need me to find the map and now I’ve pushed them away. Great, first I ruin my mom’s life by being born and now I’ll have a hand in ending humanity. This day calls for ice cream. Not the low fat stuff—the real deal.

I head to the kitchen and fix myself a big bowl of chocolate chocolate chip. I pour some milk for Ms. Charlotte and head into the living room. I turn on the TV, and, believe it or not, there are some decent movies on. But I’m not interested. I can’t stop thinking about Marcus.

Not in the same gaga way I usually do. I’m thinking about what it means that he’s the First Guardian. It can’t be easy to be in charge of five angels and saving the world. Then, to top it off, the only clue he has goes and falls for him. That kind of sucks. It’s not his fault I’m head over heels. It’s not his fault I can’t think straight when he’s around. His job isn’t to protect my feelings. His job is to save the world. Why should he have to put up with me and my emotions?

Well, I’m done playing the lovesick little girl. I’m gonna go over there and figure out a way to help them. And I won’t give Ameana’s boyfriend another thought. I get my coat, kiss Ms. Charlotte and head out to the angel house. I don’t see them around outside, but I know they try to stay hidden.

I hop on the bus and head to the house. I recall the first time I had been here. I was so terrified. Now, I confidently run up the stairs and knock on the frosted glass door. No one answers. I knock again, nothing. The door is unlocked. I guess you don’t have to worry about burglars when you can kill in like six different ways without even trying. I decide to go in.

I walk up the steps where I hear a conversation taking place. I think they’re having a meeting of sorts. Everyone is seated around the table. Reese and Jay appear to have just gotten there. I guess they were on guard duty tonight.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to talk to you guys for second. If that’s okay.”

Everyone looks up at me. No one objects outright so I continue.

“I just came to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. Miku, I’ll give you as much useless information as possible. I’ll tell you everything.” Well almost.

“It’s not really your fault. We popped into your life, expecting you to tell us everything about you when we haven’t really given you any info on us,” Miku says.

“It’s what you guys need to do to find the Triplex, so it’s understandable.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean the whole thing has to be so…,” Jay answers.

“Businesslike?” I offer.

“Yeah, so we’ll make it interesting for you,” Reese says with a wicked smile.

“How so?” I question.

“We’ll trade you a question for a question.”

“Sounds good,” I say taking a seat next to Miku.

Jay jumps in like he’s been waiting forever to ask this question. “Who looks better? Me or Blinker Boy over there?”

“Don’t worry, Mommy loves both of her boys equally,” I say, knowing full well they’re just teasing me.

“Okay, my turn. Why did you guys wait until mid January? Why not come as soon as midnight hit on New Years Day?”

Reese responds, “We had to check out some other information before we began the search.”

“Information about what, and from whom?” I ask.

“It doesn’t really concern you. We came to get you as soon as we could,” Marcus says bitterly.

“I thought we were going to be open and honest with each other. C’mon, you guys are supposed to answer my questions,” I say looking around the room.

“You asked a question and we answered it. Our turn,” Marcus says with the usual tone of finality.

“Fine, what do you want to know?”

“Why are you alone?” Marcus asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t go to parties. You don’t date. You don’t even go to movies with friends. Why is that?” he digs.

His eyes are fixed on me. He’s challenging me. Is he still mad that I kicked him out of my apartment? I thought angels are supposed to be forgiving. I refuse to blink or look away. I stay focused on him. The others become silent spectators.

“I’m not alone. I have my mom,” I say with righteous indignation.

“Yes, and your cat.”

“Ms. Charlotte, yes. It’s just us three and we’re fine with that.”

“Really?” he asks dubiously.

“My turn. Why did you ask me that?”

“I’m just asking to get to know you. Isn’t that the game?” he lies.

“What’s your problem?” I say unable to hold back.

“You mean besides the little girl in my living room who’s wasting my time, time that we don’t have to spare?”

“I am doing the best I can to—”

“To what? Lie to us?” Marcus accuses.

“I’m not lying,” I say trying to control my temper.

“You’re keeping something from us.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” I bark at him.

He turns to Rio. “What is the color wave of a person who is lying or withholding the truth?”

“Gold” Rio says.

“And what color is Emerson?” he asks.

Rio hates being put on the spot. “She’s reds and browns.”

“Angry and frustrated, I picked up on that. What’s the other color?” he asks. Rio looks at me. He’s sorry for whatever he is about to say.

“Rio, what’s the other color?” Marcus is no longer asking. He’s giving him an order, never once taking his eyes off me.

“Gold,” Rio says reluctantly.

“You will stop wasting my time,” Marcus orders me.

“I don’t owe you anything. You are in charge of them, not me. I will not be bossed around. I’m not your dog. And if you ever speak to me like that again, I won’t help. See how far you get without your only clue.”

His stare is dead cold and unwavering, as is mine. It seems that for the time being, we are at an impasse.

What did I ever see in him? Why was I willing to fall for a guy I didn’t know? Angel or no angel, he’s rude and bossy. How dare he try and tell me what to do. Just because he has wings doesn’t make him Omnis.

Anyway, my father has nothing to do with this whole thing. The clue is about my life. My father has never been a part of my life.

I am on the sofa not paying any attention to Cary Grant or his love interest. I just keep thinking about Marcus and how much I hate him. I mean it.

How does he know I don’t go out? He’s too busy looking for maps and having private talks with Ameana to know what I’ve been up to.

Anyway, I do so go out. I went out just the other day to get a DVD cleaner to clean my DVD player with. What does that say about me? It says that I am a good DVD owner. I take care of my DVD player, and I don’t mistreat it.

I don’t ask it inappropriate questions and then get mad when it won’t answer me. I don’t embarrass my DVD player in front of other DVD players. No, I am good to it, and it is good to me.

Okay, maybe going to buy a DVD cleaner isn’t the height of exciting. But it’s rude and hurtful of him to call me out like that. I went over there to apologize and that’s what I get. Guys. Wings or no wings, they all suck.

I promised myself I would not sit here and sulk. My mom is working another late shift so it’s just me in the house. I don’t know why she’s picking up all these extra shifts. I hope it has nothing to do with my birthday coming up. I don’t want anything fancy. She knows I’m happy with a $20 gift card to Barnes & Noble.

I get on the phone and call Sara. We’ve both been too busy to hang out. I could use a non-angel friend. The phone rings five times and goes to voice mail. I leave a brief message about us maybe going bowling, and ask her to call me back.

I take a quick shower and find something to wear. I’m going out. I don’t care where. I’ll show Mr. ‘Why Are You Alone.’ I’ll hang out and have a great time.

I put on the radio as I do my hair. They’re playing oldies but goodies. I blast it and dance all around the apartment. Then my favorite Bee Gees song, “Staying Alive,” comes on. I shake, rattle and perform with my hair brush mic. My imaginary audience of fifteen thousand is loving it. They shout my name and keep asking me for more. And, well, who am I to say no?

By the time I am done with my hair, I’ve played an imaginary sold-out tour all around the world. Ms. Charlotte has been my opening act. I hold her up and try to get her to take a bow. “C’mon, thank all our fans from all around the world,” I say, as I, too, bow gracefully for the “crowd.”

Someone starts clapping for me, for real. Startled, I turn around quickly. It’s Mr. Dictator himself, Marcus. “Didn’t Omnis teach you to knock? What are you doing here?”

He’s trying to hide his amusement but he’s not doing a very good job.

“I knocked but you were too busy thanking Detroit to hear me.”

I go over to the radio and turn it off. I’m embarrassed but I don’t care all that much. It’s my apartment. Who told him to come anyway?

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Can we sit for a sec?”

“No. I’m on my way out.”

“Where to?” he inquires.

“A place called ‘none of your business’ and then I’ll stop at the ‘stay out of my life’ shop and get you a T-shirt.”

“Clever.”

“What do you want?”

“Miku sent me to ask if you wanted to come to dinner.”

“Do you guys even need to eat?”

“Yes and no. Yes, we eat. And no, we don’t have to.”

“So, why do you?”

“Food is a collector.”

“Should I know what that is?”

“A collector is something that stores detailed memory. It includes sights and sounds as well as smells of our old lives back on earth.”

“So when you eat, you remember the things that happen to you before you died?”

“It’s more than that. Jay’s mom used to make chocolate cake all the time. So now when he eats a piece of chocolate cake, he remembers the time and day he had eaten that same food. In other words, that particular food holds a particular memory.”

“How long do the effects of the collector last? Will Jay spend the whole day recalling the last time he was with his mom eating cake?”

“No, collectors are ephemeral. They do not last. The average time is about three minutes. It’s usually not a good idea to have too many collectors in one day. It screws you up and makes you wish for things you can’t possibly have again.”

“Like what?”

“Family. Every time Jay has a collector, he ends up being really down because he misses being with his family.”

“Why can’t he just go see them?”

“If we were allowed to do that, we would never complete our mission. We’d always be trying to get back to our old lives. So the further away we are from our families, the stronger the memories are. But if Jay were to try and track down his mom, by the time he would’ve gotten close her, he would forget who she is. That’s so that we stay focused on bigger matters.”

“Bigger matters than your family?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“A billion other families.”

“Oh.”

“So, will you be coming to dinner?”

“This invitation isn’t coming from you, it’s from Miku, right?”

“Why?”

“Because, if you asked me, I wouldn’t come.”

“Well, it’s from her. So, you coming?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He leads the way and I follow him to the house.

When we get there, Miku greets us and takes us to the kitchen. Jay and Rio have laid out an amazing banquet of food. There’s a roast turkey, honey ham, and roast beef. All the dishes are placed on exquisite china. There’s mixed green salad, glazed baby carrots and three kinds of potatoes, in addition to bowls of fruit and various cheeses.

I point to the dishes on the table that are unfamiliar. “What’s that?” I say to no one in particular. Rio answers, “It’s Jay’s show. I’m just here to help set up.”

Jay gladly picks up his cue and starts naming off the dishes that I didn’t recognize. He is bursting with pride as he announces each of them.

“Okay, here we have green apple and celery salad with walnut vinaigrette.”

He walks down to another dish. “This is lemon-roasted green beans with Marcona almonds.”

He gets to the last dish and pauses for dramatic effect. “And the pièce de résistance: corn bread casserole with butternut squash.”

“Jay, everything looks so good. You did all this?”

He speaks but never takes his focus off of whatever is in the oven. “Baby girl, I got skills you don’t even know about.”

“But whose gonna eat all this?” I ask.

“It’s not all for us,” Miku says. “We hardly eat. Rio and I can’t have collectors, Reese only likes liquid ones, Ameana hates them, and Marcus refuses to even try one.”

“So, that means it’s just you and me,” Jay says, taking a chocolate cake out of the oven.

“You’re gonna eat all this? That’s a lot of memories, Jay. Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask, concerned.

“I’ll only try the bread and maybe some cake. I can handle that.”

“I’m not gonna be able to eat all this,” I warn him.

“It’s cool; most of this is going to the shelter down on West Fourth. Every week we make a big meal and help them feed the homeless.”

“You are so sweet,” I say.

“Yeah, you Earth girls like, huh?” he says.

Just then Reese Blinks in and Ameana comes out of her room.

“Okay, everyone take a seat and don’t dirty the table cloth. It’s new and I’m not doing another wash,” Miku says with the authority of a First Guardian.

This is going to be interesting. I put a few things on my plate and watch to see what the others will do. Jay places a piece of warm bread on his plate. He puts it in his mouth and then he disappears. I turn to Marcus, stunned. I didn’t know that having a collector made them literally disappear into their memories.

Marcus, reading my face says, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back.”

I turn my attention to the center of the table where Reese is pouring himself a glass of foggy brownish water.

“Reese, what is that?”

“River water. Jay always gets me some when he’s in the area.”

“And you like it?”

“No, it’s river water. But the memory it collects is a favorite one of mine with me and my sisters. It’s the day our dad took us fishing. I try not to have collectors, but when I do, this is my favorite.” He drank the whole thing down. When the last drop was finished he, like Jay, was gone.

Miku plays with her napkin while Rio watches her. He then takes a piece of fruit from the table and asks her a very odd question.

“You think strawberries are safe?”

“I wouldn’t,” Miku warns.

I turn to Marcus for an explanation. He leans in and whispers to me. His lips are brushing my ear but I try not to pay attention to the tingle it causes to run down my spine.

“Their deaths were very violent. Every collector they have always takes them back to the end of their lives. It’s called Spreading. That means the violence and blood from their life on Earth is so profound, it has seeped into every memory they have. Even after death.” Marcus says.

“How’d they die?” Even as I ask, I know he won’t answer me. Like Rio, Marcus isn’t keen on sharing the secrets of others.

“You should eat something,” he says.

I put a piece of ham in my mouth. It’s so good, I take four more thick slices. Jay is the best cook I’ve ever known. I’d tell him, but he hasn’t come back yet. Plus, I have a feeling he already knows how good he is. I try some of the vegetables and it comes as no surprise that they, too, are delicious.

I turn back to Marcus. He and the twins are joking around about something I didn’t catch.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Last week, Reese and Jay were racing to see who could get to school faster. Reese lost focus and ended up inside the women’s bathroom at a nursing home,” Miku laughs.

“Where he scared an 80-year-old woman half to death,” Rio adds.

The thought of Reese and that scared old lady has me cracking up. Then both he and Jay reappeared.

“Reese, you didn’t tell me you were into mature women. I have a neighbor—she’s only 65, but she’s got nice legs. What do you say?” I ask him with a straight face.

Jay knows instantly what we were talking about. He laughs so much, the rest of us start up again. Reese shakes his head. “Okay, okay. You know what? Make fun, but I’m a good and decent angel. Not only did I revive her, I promised to be her date for the prom.”

“You what?” Jay says laughing so hard he can barely get out his words.

Reese answers with pride, “That’s right. The Martin and Sylvia Tannenbaum Center for Assisted Living is having their Annual Seniors’ Senior Prom Night. This year’s theme is ‘Sunset Serenade!’”

Jay struggles to speak but can’t stop laughing. The twins are beside themselves. I look over at Marcus and he’s laughing as well. I’ve never seen him laugh. It looks good on him. Even Ameana can’t help but join in.

“If you need any dance moves, ask Emmy. She’s got some great moves.” He looks at me and smiles. He’s never done that. Even though I hate him, it’s good to see him happy.

Over the course of the next hour, Jay disappears three times. When he reappears after the third time, looking somewhat sad, Marcus suggests he not eat anymore. Reese has another glass of river water and comes back laughing. He tells us about catching a fish even bigger than his dad’s. The twins start boxing everything up to take to the shelter. We have hardly eaten anything.

I had a few slices of ham and a turkey wing. I found out angels can’t eat meat because then they flash back to the memory of that animal. And it’s usually the last moments of their lives, and, just like the twins, the animal comes to a bloody end.

The food is packed up nicely and put into containers. I offer to hand it out with them, but Marcus comments on the time. I look at my watch and realize it is almost eleven—past my curfew. Marcus says he’ll take me home.

Jay volunteers to glide me, but Marcus says he will do it since Jay had been planning on going to the mission all week. He also reminds me that my mom won’t get home until sometime after one. So I calm down and say goodnight to everyone.

Marcus goes into the garage and comes out in a sleek black car. It looks overdone and way too fancy for my neighborhood. “What kind of car is this?” I ask as I get in.

“A Lamborghini Gallardo. I know that because Jay wouldn’t stop talking about it for the first three weeks he had it. We ran down a Runner and Jay took his car after we killed him.”

“So, this is Jay’s?”

“They are all his.”

“How many does he have?”

“Ten or so,” Marcus says, like he’s talking about skateboards.

“Where does he keep them?” I want to know.

“Around the city.”

“It’s so flashy. I don’t think I like it.”

“Because you don’t like flashy or because you don’t think you deserve to sit in it?” Marcus grills.

“A little of both I guess,” I say.

“It’s just a car. It can be crumbled and broken like any other. And, believe it or not, this is one of his least conspicuous cars.”

“What about Siren?”

“I’ve thought about stopping him from taking the cars, but he’s like a kid when he first gets them. I can’t bring myself to tell him to take them back. He goes through about five cars every few weeks. But Siren is his favorite.”

“How do you guys get away with having so much?”

“Most people make up their own theory about us; students from other countries with rich parents or that sort of thing. Every once in a while we have someone who wants to know everything. So, we send Jay to suggest they never inquire about us again. He doesn’t like doing it, but we can’t just put out a banner saying, Angels here.”

“You can’t be under the radar with these cars,” I reason.

“Jay says so long as he’s chasing Runners he might as well do so in style. According to him, life is too short to drive a hatchback.”

“I guess it makes sense.”

“When we first got here, Jay was tracking a Runner. They went a few short rounds and Jay killed him. Then he went around the block opening car doors in order to find which one belonged to the now deceased Runner. Turns out the Runner had just lost everything and the only thing he could afford was a 1988 Daewoo Charade. It was so broken down that Jay had to call Ameana to come and use her powers to get the car inside the garage,” Marcus recounts, enjoying the memory.

I laugh along with him. “How long did it take him to find a new Runner whose car he could take?”

“Only a few days, but you should have seen the look on his face when he needed a screwdriver to start the car. Reese would stop recharging just to go over to the window and watch Jay kick, scream and threaten the car to work. It became a test of wills.”

“And the car won?”

“Every time.”

I laugh so much my eyes fill with water.

I lean back into the cozy crimson leather interior and enjoy the heated seats and leg room. “This is kind of nice,” I admit.

We drive the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, like two people who have known each other a long time. It doesn’t take long to get home. It would have taken half as long if Jay were driving because Jay doesn’t believe in things like stop signs and red lights.

Once we pull up to my building, it begins to snow. The light flakes fall on to the windshield and melt away quickly. I’m mesmerized by their random pattern. They don’t know where they’ll fall, they just go along with the wind.

I am too busy looking out the window to hear him call my name. He touches my arm.

“We’re here,” he says.

“Sorry, I spaced out.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“The snow. It’s beautiful. But it has to give itself into the wind and go any which way the wind blows.”

“That’s what makes it beautiful. They trust each other,” he hints.

“Well, that old lady trusted the locks on the bathroom door and look what happened to her,” I joke.

He laughs, “Yeah, that could not have been pretty.”

I lean in closer and shift my head to the side. My lips make contact with his. I press slightly into him. His lips are the softest thing on this planet. And even though it is cold outside, they are warm and impossibly delicious. I am certain I’ll never pull away from him without help.

As if reading my mind, he gently pulls away from me. I open my eyes and look at him. I’m expecting to see any number of emotions—shock, confusion, maybe even a smile. But what I see on his face is something I could not have prepared for: outright disapproval.

My face crumbles, panic washes over me. I run out of the car. He calls my name, but I keep running. I go to my room and flop down on the bed. Ms. Charlotte curls up with me. I cry until we both fall asleep.

I wake up wanting to put last night out of my head. So it stands to reason that everything I do reminds me of last night. I try not to replay the horrible moment, but it’s really out of my control.

It’s Saturday morning and everything in my house is screaming “loser.” My toaster did it when it popped up with the bread. My kitten slippers keep squeaking “loser” every time they hit the floor. I take a spoon of my alphabet cereal and it spells “loser.” Okay, it didn’t spell out “Loser” but it did spell out “Uoser” which is close enough.

I’ve never been in love. I don’t know if I am now, but whatever this is, it hurts. And according to like a billion love songs, if it hurts, it’s love. I am completely ill-equipped for this.

I can’t believe I kissed him. How could I have been so stupid and crazy? I go back to that point in my head every ten seconds. The car, the story about Jay, the snow and then….

I shudder at the memory yet again. How embarrassing. How truly mortifying to kiss someone who so obviously doesn’t want you. I could move away. Yes, I could go far away and never step foot in New York City again. Where would I go? Kansas. Yes, Kansas. No one ever says, “Hey, let’s leave New York to go to Kansas.” That means no one I know will move there.

Shoot, there is the slight matter of saving the world. That might slow down my attempt to start a new life. Okay, so I’ll stay to help save the world and then change my name and move to Kansas. Good plan.

I realize that I will some day live down the rejection. But what I won’t live down is kissing another girl’s boyfriend. Ameana is not the warmest girl in the world, but I had no right to do what I did. I have to tell her. There’s no way around it.

I never thought of myself as this person. I’m no angel by any means, but I’d like to think that I’m a nice person. I’ve helped an old lady across the street. I’ve carried groceries up a flight of stairs for a mom who had her hands full with a stroller.

But now I’m Hester Prynne, and I’ve got that nice scarlet letter branded on me. Granted, I’m the one doing the branding, but that makes it hurt all the more.

What I find most appalling and would never say aloud to another living soul is this: I would do it again. The few seconds our lips touched were the best