Omission
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Wings
Copyright: Aprilynne Pike
*
One of the many things Chelsea loved about David was the transparency of his face. Those blue eyes, so startling amid his brown hair and golden tan, never could conceal what he felt. So when the new transfer student floated into the biology lab, with her sunshiny hair and tight tank top, Chelsea could see exactly what David was feeling: admiration, bordering on awe.
"Who is she?" he whispered.
"Laurel Sewell. From Orick. Parents own a bookstore." Chelsea whispered back, well informed as always.
David shot a smile at Laura Sewell across the room. She smiled back.
*
"So what do you think?" asked David, as they walked to their next class from the cafeteria. Chelsea's first meeting with Laurel was still fresh in her mind.
Chelsea bit her tongue. She wanted to lie, to tell David that Laurel was a bitchy eco-freak who would ruin their friendly lunches together. It would doubtlessly annoy David, but it might also keep Chelsea from watching David and Laurel laugh over cans of Sprite, meshing together as naturally as if they'd known each other all their lives.
"She's nice," Chelsea said instead. "A bit extreme with the veganism and stuff … and she doesn't talk much. But yeah, she's nice. And I can't believe she's here instead of modeling in L. A. or someplace!"
David laughed. "I know! She's so … doesn't she have something … ethereal about her? Like a fairy? Someone you just want to protect?"
"Oh, c'mon." Chelsea rolled her eyes.
Inside, her heart sank. He must have it really bad. She'd always known this would happen … but … !
*
Laurel was nice. That was just the problem. It would have been so convenient if she were a hateful witch. Instead she was polite, soft-spoken, with just enough of a sense of humor to keep from being boring. She was really the best sort of girlfriend for David, Chelsea thought: one who didn't make fun of him for being such a science geek, who admired his mind and body, who made him light up like a small sun just by entering the room.
"It's like living vicariously," Chelsea told Laurel. And it was – the next best thing to making David happy herself was to see him happy with the right girl.
If only those two wouldn't tiptoe around each other like this, though. If only they'd get on with it – kissing in public, holding hands, the whole shebang. Chelsea expected it to happen every morning when she came to school, like waiting for an aching tooth to be pulled. And it never did.
Everyone who knew Chelsea knew that she believed in speaking her mind. Ever since she was a ten-year-old soccer player asking a sixteen-year-old: "Is that a mustache, or is your face dirty?", she was famous for that. David had pulled her away then, earnestly explained to her that she mustn't hurt the older boy's feelings like that, and joined her in a game of two-person driveway soccer until their mothers came to look for them. She had known even then that she wanted to be with this golden boy with the kind eyes for the rest of their lives.
"I want to be your friend," she'd said, offering a sticky chocolate bar. He'd smiled and accepted both.
What if she were to walk up to David now and say, in the same tone, "I want to be your lover?" It would be a very Chelsea-type thing to do. But she could never do it, not in a million years.
Honesty does both ways. You can't dish out what you're not willing to take. She didn't want to see his face crumple with guilt at having to refuse her. Because of course he would refuse her – how could anyone choose a frizzy-haired, abrasive mortal over the creature of light that was Laurel Sewell?
For the first time in her life, Chelsea didn't want to hear the truth
