Storm Angel: Angel of Death

By Melanie Roberts

Storm Angel, now fifteen, never thought it would go this far. Her Mom is dead, her Dads new wife is a joke and she is stuck on this pathetic piece of land with nothing but the backwoods to keep her company. All she wanted was a little excitement. She never could have guessed he would find her or that she could love him more than she has ever loved anyone. How could she have known there was someone else like her? The things she has done, the things she can do; have always had to be kept a secret. Even if she had known that, she never could have known that everything and everyone she has ever loved could all be gone in the blink of an eye. Storm cant even allow the thought of what it might be like if everyone knew who she really is... if they knew she isnt human. She cant let that happen. But she cant let innocent people die either. Find out how she plans to clean up the mess she leaves behind, while shedding as little blood as possible, of course.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469161716

Melanie Roberts

none

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Melanie Roberts.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012902043

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4691-6170-9

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4691-6169-3

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-6171-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

110215

To my family, I could not have done this without your love and support.

Forever Lovely- Melanie

CONTENTS

Fatal Attraction

Tall Kids And Tight Spaces

Waking Up To An Ugly Face

Sad Faces And Long Hall Walks

Wandering Hands And Awkward Van Rides

Deadly Silent

Time Of Our Lives

Not Alone

Cars And Conflicts

Resisting The Irresistible

Sucking It Up

See Ya Saturday!

Trying Harder

Not Even Close To The End

FATAL ATTRACTION

MY NAME IS STORM. AND no, I was not named after the comic book character.’ I had repeated those words at least twenty times today. Why? Because my dad decided that he was going to marry the first bimbo he saw on one of his o-so-frequent business trips. She also happens to be my new English teacher. So here I am in Ransomville, New York. It is my first day at Ransomville High School, and unfortunately, it seems my new step-bimbo has a big mouth, because everybody knew my name and saw me coming. Big mouths in small towns never did go together.

The building is enormous. It looks like a giant mansion, with a few small buildings in the back. The front of the building on steroids says ‘entrance’. I figured this would be the best way to go.

I walk in and sit my stuff in a brown wooden chair with pistachio colored cushions. The all-too-skinny woman in the rolling chair says, Can I help you honey? without looking up. When she does, a big smile spreads across her face from ear to ear. The first thing I notice is just how much her giant coke bottle glasses magnify her eyes. You’re even prettier in person! How’s your first day Storm?

Here we go again. It’s wonderful. The school is so comfortable! I say with faux enthusiasm. Like I am really looking forward to being the new girl. Again.

Brenda was so excited you were coming, she just couldn’t hold in the good news. Says the anorexic woman with the oversized green top.

Oh! Bimb-Brenda told you I was coming. I guess I should thank her for saving me some embarrassment. I say with just a hint of sarcasm. So little, she couldn’t tell.

I soon became bored with the whole conversation. As kindly as I can, I tell her that I want to make a ‘good impression’ on my teachers by being on time. She frowns, but let me go. After I received directions and my new schedule, of course.

First period algebra. Wonderful. Do not get me wrong, I love math just as much as the next girl does. But not at 8:30 in the morning, on the dot. Since I had arrived at school early so that I could get directions, I am also early to class. The bell had rung and my teacher, Mr. Price was nowhere in sight.

When he finally shows up, (10 minutes late), he explains that he had another argument with his wife concerning his mother. Why any of us would care beats me. Mr. Price is telling us the history of his wife and mother when he spots me, the new face in the class.

How come nobody told me we had a new guest in the room? She probably thinks I’m crazy now! he says, I was hoping not to get this much attention. Who might you be, and why didn’t I get an e-mail? Mr. Price is tall, a little thick, and has the hair of a thirty old who is clearly in his late forties.

I’m Storm Angel, from Miami, Florida. My step mom works here. I say with a slight edge to my voice. Bring on the torture.

I brace myself for the balloons and parade. Oh yeah, you’re Brenda’s kid. She mentioned you were coming. It must have slipped my mind during all the, ‘why can’t your mother find somewhere else to vacation!’ Blah, blah, blah! But anyways, nice to meet you. I’m Mr. Price, and this is the rowdy bunch of mongrels you’ll be spending the rest of your year with.

Even though I do not like being referred to as Brenda’s kid, I force the bile down my throat easily. Especially when I notice the extremely cute boy sitting across from me. We are the only two mixed kids in the room. I am half Cuban. All on my mothers’ side, my dad is Italian. And I am definitely interested in finding out who he is. Suddenly my day has become so much better.

Mr. Cute soon becomes Mr. Perfect, as the day draws on. Not only is he in all of my classes, but he also sits either in front of, or across from me in all of them as well. He is my focus in each one. As I watched him every second of the day, consumed by his mesmerizing perfections, I suddenly start to feel like my new life in Ransomville is not going to be so bad after all.

While pursuing my interest in Mr. Perfect, I notice two things. One: his body, not his looks exactly, but the way he moves. It’s almost like ice- cream! All of his movements melted together and fit so perfectly into place with the others. Like magic. Are you following me?

The second thing I notice was that through all of my many staring spells, I had not even bothered asking him his name. Or giving him mine for that matter. Not that he needs me to tell him my name. In fact, it seems like all day people have been telling me my name. Still, are you considered a stalker if you stare at someone all day, but never talk to them? Do not answer that, I don’t think I want to know.

Then I have an epiphany, I’m Storm Angel, the girl with the biggest attitude in the world. Or so I have been told. So what am I doing getting all nervous and flustered over this Olympian Gladiator type man-child sitting before me? I. Have. No. Idea. This is not how it is supposed to happen. I was supposed to come in this school, and hate everything about it.

I have never been scared of anything this world could throw at me, until now. I am actually scared of what is inside this guy’s head. Afraid of what he might think of me. I hate this. I hate loving everything about this school by the sixth period of the day. Hate how everybody already knows my name, and how he or she all wants to be my friend, and wanting to be his or her friend right back. But most importantly, I hate falling head over heels, mad crazy for a person I barely know anything about, making myself into a stereotypical boy crazed teen, and being too chicken to talk to him. I hate it. Hate it with a passion.

So where do I go from here? Do I just go up to him and say, Hey I have been watching you, and I think we’re soul mates. I don’t think so. I know. I will put it off until tomorrow. Why am I doing this again? Oh, right. Because I cannot seem to function properly, much less form a complete sentence when within a five-foot radius of him. That’s why. However, overall, it is a good day so far. I knew lunch was going to be awesome. It was the exact opposite of sitting alone by yourself. Actually, I sat with a table full of people. Do not ask me their names. For all I know they could have said their names where Huckleberry Finn, and Tom Sawyer. Anyways, they are all nice. Maybe a little too nice, but what can you do.

I hate cafeterias. For one, they are full of tall, hormone raging teenagers, so packed together you can hardly move. In addition, I just happen to be claustrophobic. And two, you can never find the people you’re looking for.

Well, the Ransomville High cafeteria is nothing like what I just described. It is both large, and spacious. Which is why Radiant Wonder is the first person I see when I sit down with my newly found friends. He is also the only thing on my mind when Robin asks me to come to his sweet 16. I snap back into the present just in time to hear him make a wise crack about me still being fifteen. I force a stiff laugh out from my chest, not wanting him to know that I am totally spacing out. I say I would love to come to his party. Elated with my answer, he continues to ramble on about the details. I take that as the perfect time to start spacing out again. As long as it looks like I’m focusing on him, it is okay, right? Even though I happen to be staring just above his head, (courtesy of being tall) all the way over to the other end of the room where my GQ model laughs with his friends. Showing off that amazing smile that you have to be a complete ignoramus not to adore. Or maybe it’s just me.

Then…. he looks at me. He looks me dead in the face and forces what seems to be a nervous, smile. Right before jerking his head the other way of course. He is the most confusing boy I have ever seen. Was that just being polite? Or was it something more? Because I needed it to be. Jumping back into everything around me, I figure out two things. One, that I’ve been holding my breath for the past five minutes and need to inhale before I pass out, and that the bell has rung and Meredith is pinching the crap out of my arm, unsuccessfully trying to get me to come back to reality.

TALL KIDS AND TIGHT SPACES

AFTER BEING SEVERELY BRUISED BY Meredith, I take the hint that we have ten minutes to get to class. Unfortunately, Meredith had been paying more attention to whom I was staring at then I was comfortable with. Of course, she comments on it. Do you know Jason Bloom? I just happened to notice you noticing him every two minutes. Cute, isn’t he? He’s really cool too. I could introduce you, if you want. she says with a you know you want to expression.

I have no idea what you’re talking about. But even if I did, are you guys close friends, or something? I ask, with a sudden spike of panic in my side. I am really bad at playing dumb.

Or something. Everyone knows him, but he only hangs out with certain people. He is very different. He doesn’t exactly belong to your typical high school stereo types, you know? The pain in my side deflates as she speaks the words. He is a mystery. An enigma of some type. I always loved a good puzzle.

Since we have about nine minutes until we go to our next class, we decide to head to the bathroom to freshen up. You know, checking our teeth for food and fixing our windblown hair. Regular teenage stuff. Surprisingly, the girl’s bathroom is empty when we get there. When Meredith and I finish fixing ourselves, Meredith heads outside while I use the bathroom. I always take forever and a year in the bathroom, so it is not a surprise when Meredith came back in to tell me to get out. However, it is a surprise when she suddenly gasps and starts in on the OMGs and all. I rush out of the stall as fast as possible to see what the problem is.

What’s up, why the screaming? I demand.

Your singing! I had been absent-mindedly singing in the stall.

What about it? Was I off pitch? I say, walking timidly towards the sinks, trying to blow it off as much as possible. But I know what’s coming next.

No! The exact opposite, you are amazing! Your voice is so perfect. I’ve never heard anything like it. She rants like this for at least another minute, and then gasps big enough to suck up a cow. Ohmygosh, ohmygosh. I just had the biggest idea in the world! You should so sing at Robin’s party next Saturday. He has been looking for a band, and he will be so excited. I can’t wait to tell him! I pause on my hand drying.

Whoa girl, calm down. I do not think I want to sing on stage in front of everybody. And I would kind of like it if we kept this whole singing thing to ourselves. Think you can do that for me? I say with pleading eyes.

I can try I guess, but this is a way big secret to keep. Storm, do you not understand? You’re a beast! I flinch at the term.

Please don’t call me that Meredith Anything but that. We should probably get to class before they send out a search party. I say, desperately trying to change the subject.

Meredith is not in my next class. This means there is no possible way to make sure she keeps our little secret a secret. I know it shouldn’t be a big deal that she knows I sing but still, I slipped up, and now she knows one of my secrets. Let’s just hope I am smart enough to keep the bigger one under wraps. There is no way I can afford to let people know what I really am. I just do not want all this attention. I really don’t need it. Maybe the best way to keep my big secret hidden is to highlight the little one. I might just rethink singing at Robin’s party.

That is all I can focus on during sixth period. Which actually makes it seem a lot shorter. Seventh period however sends my anxiety level through the roof. I walked in and I am told to take the seat next to the gentleman in the back. Bimbo is acting as if she does not know me. Who is the gentleman you ask? None other than Jason Bloom himself. I immediately start sweating as I walk to the back of the room to sit with my new English partner. As I sit, I subtly check my breath, under arms and hair, all at the same time. Trying to avoid as much embarrassment as possible. After about three minutes of trying not to stare at his beautiful face, I give in. To my surprise, he is looking directly at me too. But with somewhat of a curious sparkle in his eye. I have no other option but to open my mouth and speak. Hi, I’m-

Storm. Storm Angel, right? You’re Mrs. Angel’s daughter. Great, cut off again. But this time…I don’t mind it so much.

Yeah, that’s right. I think I’m in your algebra class. I think. Yeah right, how could I forget? I had been staring at him with big brown eyes the whole time.

I think you’re in all my classes. And I am sure I saw you at lunch. Were you sitting with Meredith?

Mm-hmm, I think I got a new best friend on my first day of school. Wow, how stupid can I get?

Well I guess I’ll have to work a little to take that spot. I’m Jason Bloom. Now it is my turn to do some OMG’s. He wants to be my best friend!

The eighth period of the day is kind of a blur. All I know is that my teachers name is Mrs. Buffoon, and that she teaches physical science. And the fact that she seems to think she is a psychiatrist. Constantly trying to get inside your head with endless, probing questions.

After countless day dreams about Jason, Mrs. Buffoon finally catches on to the fact that I am only staring at her hoarse-like mouth, not listening to it.

Miss Angel, in this class, we day dream of numbers, and things such as the Dimensional Analysis. I trust that’s what you were just doing. Oh look, the hoarse-faced hag has a sense of humor. Great.

Of course Mrs. Buffoon, but actually it was the Quadratic Equations this time. I say, hoping to end our annoying little battle of wits.

"Ah, you have good taste in formulas Miss Angel… and also a great sense of sarcasm might I add. Let’s hope