Gabe's Guardian Angel

By Beverly Stowe McClure

Gabe never asked for an angel...

Gabe Montana’s clumsy. He’s overweight, and he’s dyslexic. Worse yet, the bullies make his fifteen-year-old life even more miserable—so miserable he wants to die.
Charley, his guardian angel, says no to that idea, and comes up with a different plan. He’ll give Gabe self-confidence so he can solve his problems, not run away from them. But Gabe wonders why the angel doesn’t just help with the bullies. What’s with this self-confidence stuff?

Can Charley help Gabe stand on his own two feet? Will Gabe give up hope life can improve for him? Or will he finally listen to the angel’s advice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dancing Lemur Press LLC
• Release date: Mar 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781939844675

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Gabe stood at the glass doors and looked outside to see if the coast was clear. He glanced to the right; he checked on the left. Students scrambled aboard school buses or darted to cars where parents waited. Older students rushed to their own vehicles and soon sped down the street. Except for a few stragglers chatting with friends, the almost empty school grounds appeared safe for him to pass through.

With a deep sigh, he swiped a hand across his sweaty brow. I’ve done it. I’ve survived another day at Harmony High, without even a rumble from the terrors of the school. Now to find Lindy and go home.

He opened the doors and stepped outside into the warm sunshine. Too late, he saw the foot shoot out. He tried to jump over it but lost his balance and fell forward. His arms and nose skidded on the cement entrance of the school. A low groan rumbled in his throat. His cheek burned. A thin stream of blood flowed from his nose and scrapes on his hands when he slid to a stop.

As if he wasn’t in enough pain, a familiar male voice cackled, Ha-ha! What are you doing down there, Blubber? He nudged Gabe in the side with the same foot. Not gently, either.

Mick, of course. And Bud. Dang! They sure snuck up in a hurry. I never saw them coming. He clenched his jaws tight. If only I had the guts to fight back. A vision of what he’d like to do to Mick and Bud flashed before his eyes.

He almost laughed, but Mick’s voice screeched in his ears, interrupting his pleasant thoughts. Haven’t you learned to walk, yet, Blubber? Oh, wait! I bet you’re a late bloomer. Right? He cackled at his own joke. And who in the world came up with a dumb name like Gabe? They must have been drunk or stupid or both.

Gabe, teeth clinched together, leaped to his feet and glared at Mick. Ignoring the pain in his face and arms, he doubled his hands into fists. You have no right to make fun of my name, he said and raised one fist, ready to smack the ugly grin off Mick’s face even though he’d get smacked back. Putting Mick in his place would be worth another black eye or bleeding nose.

Before he could swing his hand, Bud stepped between them and clapped Mick on the shoulder. Hey, cool it, he said. We’ve got company.

Gabe glanced in the direction Bud pointed, took one look at Miss Blaire, the girl’s gym teacher, heading their way, and moaned. Caught. Oh, man, Grandpa’s going to kill me for getting in a fight. Well, almost a fight.

A couple of boys who’d stopped to observe the fracas skedaddled.

Mick patted Gabe on the back. See you later, Blubber. His mouth one huge grin, he leapt off the school steps and ran, Bud on his heels, but not fast enough.

CHAPTER TWO

Stop! Miss Blaire called, her voice amazingly strong for a small woman. When the boys slid to a halt but didn’t turn to face her, she added, Get back here, this instant! I want to talk to you. The way she snapped out each word left no doubt they’d better do what she said, and they obeyed without further hesitation. Gabe stood still, head ducked, ashamed of the way he looked with his bruises and cuts and how he’d let the boys trick him. To add to his troubles, a teacher now saw him in this pitiful condition. Can the day get any worse? he wondered.

Miss Blaire glanced from Gabe to Mick to Bud and back to Gabe, her arms crossed over her chest. She did not comment on his injuries but simply said, What happened here?

He sighed. Great! What do I do, now? Tell the truth? Lie? Either way, I’m in trouble.

When he offered no explanation, she turned her attention to Bud. Do you have anything to say?

He shook his head. No, ma’am.

Her forehead wrinkled, she focused on Mick. How about you?

Yes, ma’am, I think Gabe had an accident, he said, a hint of worry in his voice. We didn’t see what happened, but he may need help.

Whoa! What an actor, Gabe thought. He said every word with a straight face. I should have smacked him one and suffered the consequences. Think, brain, think how to explain.

Um, you see, Miss Blaire. He chewed on his thumbnail. I’m clumsy sometimes. I don’t know how I did it, but I tripped over my own feet. He touched his nose. A bloody nose is no big deal. I’ve had lots of those. He swiped at his face with his shirttail. Anybody have a tissue? he said, trying to sound funny.

No one laughed.

In fact, Miss Blaire frowned, clearly not amused. You need to go to the nurse’s office and let her tend to your injuries.

And have to explain to her how I really got them. No way. He shook his head. No, no, thanks. I’ll take care of them at home.

She frowned. You’re sure?

He nodded. Yes, ma’am.

She scanned his other scratches. Well, your injuries don’t appear to be too serious. All right, you may go. Be sure to show your parents what happened and put medicine on them. We don’t want an infection to set in.

He shook his head. No, ma’am, we sure don’t.'

A frown still on her face, as if debating whether she’d done the right thing or not, she turned her attention to the other boys, who stood still, their heads bowed, perfect do-no-wrong students. Is that what happened?

Yes, it is, exactly, exactly, Mick said, answering her so quickly his words ran together.

It is, Miss Blaire, what he said. Bud pointed at Gabe.

Gabe almost snorted but managed to keep his mouth shut. Not so his thoughts, however. Liars, liars. Listen to me. I’m as bad.

She eyed each of them. All right. You may go, for now. I have to write a report when accidents occur on campus. Ms. Raven, the principal, may contact your parents later for additional information.

Mick and Bud both mumbled, Thanks, and sprinted toward the bicycle rack where they kept their motorcycles. They never looked back.

Gabe limped off as fast as his stinging legs could carry him and didn’t see Lindy until he almost mowed her down. She dodged to the side barely in time to avoid a collision. Her eyes opened wide, and he hollered, Don’t ask, as he limped along. His scrapes and bruises must have frightened her, for on the walk home she never said a word. A first, for his little sister. When they stepped up on the front porch of their house, he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. I have a favor to ask.

She nodded. I know. I won’t mention the…accident at school. Grandpa has enough trouble raising us without worrying about your fights. Our secret, if…

He squished his eyes closed for a second then opened them. Hu-oh, I figured there’d be a catch.

She shook her head. No catch, just stay away from those guys. I know they’re bugging you. Ignore them. Please.

He stared past her, unable to look Lindy in the face. She trusts me, he thought. I’ll try. No promises. Avoiding Mick and Bud is next to impossible since we have classes together, but I’ll never tell her. She wouldn’t believe me, anyhow. I’ll do my best, he said.

She frowned. "Do I hear a but in there somewhere?"

Dang she’s smart. Hear whatever you want. He reached into his pocket for his house key. Empty. He must have lost it when he splattered his body on the school grounds.

Lindy held out her key. Don’t worry. I’ll get the door. Maybe someone at school will find yours and turn it in to the office. She ran inside.

Yeah, maybe, he said, following her. When pigs fly.

CHAPTER THREE

Gabe hurled his backpack onto his bed and paced the room, too tense to relax, going mostly in circles since his bedroom was a small back porch when they moved into the house two months ago. Grandpa said they each needed their own room, so he had turned the porch into Gabe’s bedroom. It gave him a special sanctuary where he could be alone with his thoughts and his dreams of being able to read like everyone else. Oh yes, once he had believed it could happen. Before he learned better.

He paused and stared out the window of the back door, where a slight breeze whistled through a thick crack in the glass. He smiled at the sight of a cardinal perched in the tall pecan tree in the middle of the yard. According to Grandpa, a cardinal’s visit meant someone you loved had passed on and would always be with you, in good times and bad.

He sighed. "To think I once believed the story." He glanced at the bird again. What if it is true, though? Is it my mother visiting me, or is it simply a bird searching for food? Who are you, bird?

With a flutter of wings, the bird flew away.

Yeah, I thought so. A bird trying to survive, like the rest of us. He squeezed his lips together in pain. Ow! Talking makes my mouth hurt. It feels weird, too. He ran his tongue over his upper teeth and then the lower. No wonder my mouth feels strange. Got a chipped tooth. Great. What next? On second thought, I don’t want to know.

He laughed to keep from crying. Big boys never cry, right? Right. They don’t worry their grandpa, either. Oh, and another thing, Miss Blaire, in case you’re interested. I’d doctor my wounds like you said. I really would. One problem. No medicine or bandages. Guess I’ll wash the scratches and let it go. He blew out a puff of air. I’d also better stop talking to myself and clean up before Grandpa gets home and sees me in this mess.

After a quick shower where he cleaned his cuts and scrapes with some old medicine of some sort he found in the bathroom, along with a check of the chipped tooth which he could do nothing about, he changed into a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt with a tear across the stomach. He slipped his feet into his work shoes, an old pair of sneakers with holes in the toes, and had his hand on the doorknob to his bedroom to go outside when Lindy rapped on the door.

Hey, big bro, can we talk?

He groaned. He’d bet a hundred bucks he knew what she wanted to discuss, but he asked anyway. What is it?

So softly he barely heard her, she said, "Tell me about her."

Bingo. Exactly what he thought. But not now. He rubbed his forehead where a headache threatened. Later. I’m going to mow a couple of yards.

Oh, okay. Her footsteps moved away from the door, one slow shuffle at a time. Silence filled the house.

He scrunched his eyes together. Why do I feel like a monster? I told her the truth. He sighed. Dang, I am a monster, but I must make her understand.

He flung his bedroom door open and limped—his skinned knee still protesting fast movement—to her room. He knocked on her door. Hey, take a rain check. Please. We’ll talk after supper. All right?

A voice, muffled by the closed door, said, It doesn’t matter.

He squeezed his hands into fists. I’m sorry, Lindy.

Only quiet answered him. He almost stayed home, but they needed the extra money he earned mowing neighbors’ lawns. The sun set earlier every week. The grass no longer grew higher. Soon, no more job.

Don’t be angry with me, he said, leaning against her door. When I get back, we’ll talk all night, if you want. About her.

He went outside, filled the ancient lawn mower with gasoline, and set off to do his work.

***

After supper—Lindy’s specialty of spaghetti and salad—Gabe and his sister sat on the living room sofa, Grandpa between them, the way they did every evening before he went to his nighttime job cleaning offices at a building downtown. He always wanted to hear about their day, except today for some odd reason. Sorry, but I can’t talk with you this evening.

No? Lindy’s lips turned down in a frown. Why not?

I’ve added another office to clean every night to the ones I already have, so I need to get going. When I’m better organized, we’ll get back to our evening talks.

Okay, she said with a shrug. Sounds good.

Don’t work too hard, Grandpa, Gabe said. Oh, let me give you this before you go. He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out the wrinkled bills he’d earned from mowing. Here you go. Made this today. I have a couple more jobs lined up.

Thanks, Son. Time to pay the rent. This will help. He patted Gabe on the back. Someday, after you graduate, you can stop mowing and get a great job earning big bucks.

He shrugged. Maybe. He rose and stretched his arms and back. Now, I’ve got homework, and I’m so slow it’ll take me half the night. See you in the morning, Grandpa, Lindy.

"Night, Son.

I have some reading to do, too, Lindy said. Sweet dreams, Gabe.

Most likely I’ll have nightmares of Mick and Bud cutting off my fingers and toes and ears. He shuddered and decided he might stay awake all night.

As he headed toward his bedroom, he heard Grandpa call to him. Son, I’d like a word with you before I leave.

In a small house like this one, you could hear what went on in every room. He frowned. What had he done now? Oh, no, I bet Grandpa noticed my cuts and bruises. He chewed on his bottom lip. How do I explain? Forcing a smile to his lips, he moseyed into the living room where Grandpa patted a spot on the sofa beside him.

Take a seat, Son. Since your sister is busy, I have a couple of questions for you.

Gabe nodded and sat down. He suspected what Grandpa would say but hoped he was wrong.

Grandpa got right down to the basics. Where did the scratches and bruises come from?

He had noticed, of course. Gabe hated to lie, but to tell the truth… No, he didn’t want him to think Gabe a coward who couldn’t take care of himself. Better if Grandpa didn’t know the whole story. So, he said, I fell at school. No big deal.

Grandpa shook his head and sighed. Poor kid. Guess you get your grace from your old grandpa. My folks always teased me about having two left feet.

Gabe’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. Grandpa believed his story, sort of. Trying to hide his surprise, he said, Your folks did? You did? You never told us. And thanks for changing the subject.

I never told anyone, until now. When he patted Gabe on the shoulder, the gleam in his eyes revealed he didn’t buy his grandson’s story but accepted it. He added, Remember, you can talk to me anytime you want. I’ve been there. Life is tough. So is our family.

He rose to his feet. Have you ever noticed one leg is shorter than the other?

Gabe nodded. Yes, I have. What happened?

Careless driver. Me.

Accident?

I guess you’d call it an accident. I saw the green light. Didn’t look both ways. Started across the intersection. Another car ran the red light. Slammed into me. I spent two months in the hospital. He sighed. We live with our mistakes, so make yours few. Understand?

I understand.