Free Finding Eden by Camilla Beavers

the change in temperature as he takes me
outside into fresh air.
    “ Eden,” his
voice is close to my ear.
    A hand cradles my face; a
finger runs across my cheek. I hear a whisper rush from his lips and
I feel like I'm being covered in the words he's saying.
    Seconds tick by and I can
register my body ready to respond to me one part at a time. I'm able
to open my eyes, and although the words Sahariel has spoken are still
swimming through my head, I can't remember them nor could I speak
them out loud.
    “ There you are,”
he says to me as my eyes open.
    “ Holy crap,”
I say, “are you okay?”
    I look at his face, which
looks worse than it did back when I was having my nightmares. His
eyes look sunken in, his skin pale and a light sheen covers his brow.
    “ I am not my main
concern,” he says.
    “ Well it should
be.”
    “ It's not,”
he says.
    “ Why?”
    “ Because, Eden,”
he says, “I'm not the one who almost died just now.”
    He's frustrated, but
worried.
    “ Who was?”
    “ You.”
    “ Me?”
    “ Yes.”
    He rolls his eyes and I
can't help but notice he's still holding me in his arms, my head
gently cradled in the crook of his arm, seedlings growing.
    “ I'm never leaving
you alone again,” he says.
    The look in his eyes
scares me, not because I fear for my safety, but because I fear for
the safety of others.
    I don't argue with him.
    The next day at school
Sahariel is back to following me around. Brock and Evaughn don't say
anything, she just smiles and nods at me as we sit down to eat lunch
    “ Oh, did you hear,”
Brock says, “there was a gas leak yesterday. A couple teachers
got all high because of it. Pretty funny.”
    I don't say anything; I
just look at Sahariel and am startled to see a livid expression on
his face. I hear him say something that sounds like, “of course
it was a gas leak,” but he says it so quietly I can't be sure.
    “ Yeah, Mr. Torres
was freaking out with a bad headache and everything,” Evaughn
comments on her band director.
    “ How did it happen
anyway?” I ask.
    “ No one knows,”
Brock says, “especially since the pipes were checked last
week.”
    “ Yeah, that is
weird.”
    “ Probably a prank,”
Brock says.
    “ It wasn't a very
nice one,” I say, “someone could have been hurt.”
    “ It was just a
prank,” Evaughn says.
    “ Yeah, but it
wasn't a very nice one.”
    Brock and Evaughn look at
me carefully.
    “ Are you okay?”
Brock asks.
    “ No,” I say,
“well, yes, I am. But I was affected by that prank yesterday.
It was horrible. So to me it wasn't really a joke. I didn't find it
funny. At all.”
    “ Sorry.”
    “ Yeah,” Brock
says, “sorry.”
    I let out a sigh.
    “ It's okay,”
I say, “it just sucked.”
    The bell rings a little
while later and I slowly get up and dump my tray. Sahariel follows
me, keeping a small distance between us that frustrates me. I rub my
temples trying to stave off a headache.
    “ Please don't do
that,” I say.
    “ Do what?”
    “ That,” I
motion at the distance between us, “don't walk behind me like
that. It annoys me.”
    “ Oh,” he
says.
    He takes the steps
between us as if he were walking on eggshells. After a long couple of
seconds, he's finally walking in stride with me again like he did
before.
    “ Are you okay?”
I ask.
    “ Not really.”
He says.
    “ Do you want to
talk about it?”
    “ No.”
    I frown at him as we walk
into art class. With only a few months left in the school year most
everyone is busy trying to finish their paintings. A few people are
scrambling about, muttering obscenities under their breath, trying
their hardest to finish even though they're not even close to
completing their projects.
    “ I'm really glad
I'm finished,” I say, “I don't like being under a time
crunch.”
    “ I don't think
anyone does,” Sahariel says, “but some of us don't have a
choice.”
    I look at him and expect
him to explain, but he never does. He just sits there and broods