The Watcher
Why would she ever want to kill herself?
    I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the white VW pull up beside me. Immediately recognizing the car, I tensed.
    Michael rolled down the passenger window.
    “Get in,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”
    I shook my head, keeping my tone icy. “I’m almost there.”
    I kept walking. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked it, grabbing his bag on the way out. I didn’t wait for him, but with his long legs it only took seconds for him to catch up with me.
    “We need to talk,” he said. “Please?”
    His voice was as soft as a caress, and it was sad what the sound of it could do to me, how much I wanted to be close to him.
    “This isn’t about Damiel again, is it?” I said. “Because I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
    “Probably not,” he said. “But won’t you hear me out?”
    I sighed. “We’ll just argue again.”
    I’d packed too many books into my school bag that morning. It was heavy, so I took it off my right shoulder and was switching to my left when Michael caught it.
    “I got it,” he said, slinging it over his shoulder as though it were weightless.
    My bag now his hostage, I followed him down the tree-lined street. At least he didn’t take off with it the way my brother used to. Instead he stayed close, so close that when a breeze hit, I could smell the shampoo from his freshly washed hair, combed back to dry in waves. If this had happened a week ago, I would have been thrilled to just hang out with him. But now, knowing he was going to talk about Damiel again made me increasingly nervous. Damiel seemed like my chance to get over him once and for all, but with Michael coming around all the time, that wasn’t working. Not at all.
    We walked almost a block before Michael took a deep breath and said, “I’m not trying to make things difficult.”
    “No?”
    “You think I want to do this?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, but he was close enough that his arm grazed mine, sending tingles all the way up my neck.
    Damn, why do I have to like him so much?
    “Do what exactly?” I bristled, struggling to focus. “Meddle in my life?”
    I hoped what I said would make him angry, because I wanted him to get so angry with me he’d leave me alone. But instead he was calm. “I’m trying to help you.”
    “You’re trying to help me? Maybe you should help yourself . You’re the one who pushed Damiel away because you don’t want to remember that part of your life—”
    “What?” He turned on his heel to face me, and I could have sworn the air snapped. “What are you talking about?”
    “He said you two were in the hospital together, that seeing him brought up bad memories for you.”
    “That’s a load of…” Shaking his head, he stopped himself, took a breath. “You don’t believe that, do you? You’re smarter than that.”
    “Oh, really? I’m supposed to be some kind of mind-reader? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
    He led us across an empty baseball diamond near our school, walking so quickly I had to hurry to keep up. “Haven’t you noticed it’s hard to say no to him?”
    “I can say no.” I spat the words at him. Was he implying I was some kind of slut or something? Was I, as the girl, supposed to say no because it was what good girls did? “Why the hell should I? What if I don’t want to?”
    He took a step toward me, his eyes blazing and yet not with anger. There was tenderness there, and sadness, and I wasn’t sure what else. I wanted to commit that look to memory. But then some kind of wall came up inside him, cold and solid as iron, blocking his true self in. Or was it blocking me out?
    “That’s your choice to make,” he said.
    I recoiled. “I haven’t chosen anything yet.”
    “Even not choosing is a choice.”
    I swallowed hard, fighting the sting of tears. He couldn’t be giving up on me, could he? “What am I choosing between ?”
    He led us

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