Free Prophecy Girl (Angel Academy) by Cecily White Page A

smiles at you doesn’t mean he’s nice .” Lisa dug around in her purse for a tube of lip-gloss. “Maybe he’s a visually impaired cannibal. Did you ever think of that? Like one of those serial killers you love so much.”
    “I don’t love serial killers,” Katie argued, defensive. “Not romantically, at least.”
    “He probably is a serial killer,” Lisa prattled on. “Smalley said he’s with Paranormal Convergence, right?”
    “So?”
    “So, those Convergence freaks hang around with Inferni. It’s all bloodlust and bondage with guys like that. I’ll bet he snacks on entrails and bathes in the blood of his victims.”
    “Lisa, I don’t think you’re supposed to say stuff like that anymore,” Katie noted. “It’s not PC…even if it’s true.”
    Over the sea of students’ heads, I watched as the visually impaired cannibal wrapped up a heated argument with Smalley, punctuated by angry gestures in my direction. His glasses hung from his pocket like twisted sculpture art, his shirt ripped and stained scarlet. I’d healed all the scrapes on his face as well as the dislocated shoulder, but he still had streaks of blood, dirt, and demon slime all over him. He cast a withering look in my direction and stalked toward the exit.
    “You guys, I’ve gotta go,” I mumbled to Lisa and Katie. “I’ll see you in class.”
    “Whatever. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Lisa called, annoyed.
    I picked up my pace as the door swung closed behind him. If I could just catch him, maybe I could make him understand I wasn’t the child he thought I was. Maybe he’d see that I could help him.
    I’d barely made it past the front row of chairs when Headmistress Smalley’s hand caught my arm.
    “Not so fast, young lady,” she said. “Some things can be fixed with words. This isn’t one of them.”
    “But—”
    She gave my shoulder a hard squeeze. “Go back to class. Whatever you have to say will keep ‘til tomorrow.”
    Grr . Did I look like I needed advice? Hokey as it sounded, Jack’s departure was like a magnet to my heart, complete with gut-wrenching ache. I didn’t know if it could keep ‘til tomorrow.
    “Amelie,” she said, obviously using some mind-reading mojo, “whatever problems exist between you two are as much your responsibility as his. If you insist on making him hold your end of the burden, it will only lead to suffering for you both.”
    “But ma’am, I just want to talk to him.”
    “And tell him what?”
    I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it. What did I want to tell him? That I had feelings for him? That he made me jittery and happy all at once and, by the way, I believed we were meant to be together forever?
    I scanned myself in quiet appraisal. My uniform was ruined, torn and stained with smears of Jack’s blood. My feet were covered in demon splooge, a chunk of mottled black skin caught in the laces of one shoe. I shuddered to think what might’ve been nesting in my hair. Even if I could convince him to talk to me, I doubted my appearance would move him toward anything beyond a barf bag.
    “I’ll think of something,” I mumbled, self-conscious.
    Smalley’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Amelie. I know this isn’t easy. Please remember, everything we do at St. Michael’s is with your best interests in mind. Which is why it pains me to give you this.”
    It took me a moment to focus on the familiar yellow slip she held, though heavens knew I’d seen my share of them.
    Student Incident Report:
    Name – Amelie Lane Bennett
    Violation – Unauthorized channeling within school grounds; assault of a faculty member; non-consensual healing.
    Disciplinary Action – Official warning; restricted contact with aforementioned faculty. If behavior re-occurs, student will be suspended indefinitely.
    – J. Smith-Hailey
    I took it from her with a robotic motion. “But…I was protecting him. He knows that.”
    “Amelie,” Smalley sighed. “There is no limit to what a man can