Free Halo by Alexandra Adornetto

something?”
    Gabriel shrugged off the attention. “I’m a pacifist,” he said. “There’s no honor in violence.”
    Molly struggled to come up with an adequate response.
    “Well . . . do you wanna hang out with us?” she said eventually. “The mint-chocolate-chip ice cream here is to die for. Here, Beth, have a taste. . . .”
    Before I could object, she leaned over and shoved her outstretched spoon into my mouth. Immediately something cold and slippery began dissolving on my tongue. It seemed to be shifting shape—transforming from velvety solid to liquid that trickled down my throat. The cold made my head ache and I swallowed as quickly as I could.
    “It’s great,” I said truthfully.
    “Told you,” said Molly. “Here, let me get you some. . . .”
    “I’m afraid we have to get home,” Gabriel cut in, rather brusquely.
    “Oh . . . right, sure,” said Molly.
    I felt for her as she tried to hide her disappointment.
    “Maybe some other time,” I suggested.
    “Sure thing,” she said more hopefully, turning back to her friends. “See you tomorrow, Beth. Hey, wait, I almost forgot. I got you something.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a tube of the Melon Sorbet lip gloss I had tried at school. “You said you liked it, so I got you some.”
    “Thanks, Molly,” I stammered. I had just received my first earthly gift and was touched by her thoughtfulness. “That’s so sweet of you.”
    “No big deal. Hope you like it.”
    No comments were made about my new friendship with Molly on our way home, although I saw Ivy and Gabriel exchange meaningful looks a few times. I was too tired by then to try and decipher what they meant.
    Getting ready for bed that night, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror that stretched across an entire wall. It had taken some getting used to—being able to see what I looked like. In the Kingdom we could see others but never our own image. Sometimes you caught a glimpse of yourself reflected in someone’s eyes, but even then it was a blur, like an artist’s rudimentary sketch that still lacked color and detail.
    Having human form meant the sketch was fleshed out. I could see every hair, every pore, with perfect clarity. Compared with the other girls at Venus Cove, I knew I must look strange. My skin was alabaster pale while they still sported tans from the summer. My eyes were wide and brown; my pupils hugely dilated. Molly and her friends looked as if they never tired of experimenting with their hair, but mine was simply parted in the middle and fell in natural chestnut waves. I had a full, coral-colored mouth, which, I was later to learn, could give the impression that I was sulking.
    I sighed, pulled my hair into a loose knot on top of my head, and put on flannel pajamas with a black-and-white print of dancing cows. Even with my limited experience of the world, I seriously doubted any other girl in Venus Cove would be caught wearing something so unglamorous. Ivy had bought them for me and so far they were the most comfortable item of clothing I owned. Gabe had received a similar pair except with sailboats on them, but I had yet to see him wear his.
    I went up to my room, grateful for its simple elegance. I especially liked the narrow French doors that lead to the tiny balcony. I liked to open them a crack and then lie under the muslin canopy and listen to the sounds of the sea. It was peaceful there, with the briny smell of the ocean wafting in and the sound of Gabriel playing the piano downstairs. I always drifted to sleep listening either to the strains of Mozart or the low murmur of my siblings’ voices.
    In bed I stretched luxuriously, relishing the feel of crisp sheets. I was surprised to find how inviting the prospect of sleep was, seeing as we didn’t need a lot of it. I knew it would be the early hours of the morning before Ivy and Gabriel went to bed. But I had found the day full of new and unfamiliar interaction draining. I yawned and curled up