Free Dark Angel; The Chosen; Soulmate by L.J. Smith

Angel’s seemed to whisper. But it was drowned out by the laughter and the rising warmth inside Gillian. She’d never felt so accepted, so
included
. She had the feeling that now people would laugh whenever she said something even marginally funny. Because they
wanted
to laugh; they wanted to be pleased by her—and to please her.
    (Rule One, dragonfly. A beautiful girl can tease any guyand make him like it. No matter what the joke is. Am I right or am I right?)
    (Angel, you’re always right.) She meant it with all her heart. She had never imagined that guardian angels could be like this, but she was glad beyond words that they were and that she had one on her side.
    At break the miracles continued. Instead of hurrying out the door as she normally did, she found herself walking slowly and lingering in the hall. She couldn’t help it, both Macon and Cory were in front of her, talking to her.
    â€œI can have the notes ready for you this weekend,” Macon the Wallet was saying. “Maybe I should drop them by your house.” His heavy-lidded eyes seemed to bore into her and the sensual droop to his mouth became more pronounced.
    â€œNo, I’ve got a better idea,” Cory was saying, almost dancing around the two of them. “Mac, m’man, don’t you think it’s about time you had another party? I mean, it’s been weeks, and you’ve got that big house…. How about Satur day, and I’ll round up a keg and we can all get to know Jill better.” He gestured expansively.
    â€œGood idea,” Bruce the Athlete said cheerfully from behind Gillian. “I’m free Saturday. What about you—Jill?” He draped a casual arm around her shoulder.
    â€œAsk me Friday,” Gillian said with a smile, repeating the whispered words in her mind. She shrugged off the arm on her own volition. Bruce belonged to Amanda.
    A party for me, Gillian thought dazedly. All she’d wanted was to get
invited
to a party given by these kids—she’d never imagined being the focus of one. She felt a stinging in her nose and eyes and a sort of desperation in her stomach. Things were happening almost too fast.
    Other people were gathering around curiously. Incredibly, she was at the center of a crowd and everyone seemed to be either talking to her or about her.
    â€œHey, are you new?”
    â€œThat’s Gillian Lennox. She’s been here for years.”
    â€œI never saw her before.”
    â€œYou just never
noticed
her before.”
    â€œHey, Jill, how come you lost your biology book?”
    â€œDidn’t you hear? She fell in a creek trying to save some kid. Almost drowned.”
    â€œI heard David Blackburn pulled her out and had to give her artificial respiration.”
    â€œ
I
heard they were parked on Hillcrest Road this morning.”
    It was intoxicating, exhilarating. And it wasn’t just guys who were gathered around her. She would have thought that the girls would be jealous, spiteful, that they’d glare at her or even all walk away from her in one mass snub.
    But there was Kimberlee Cherry, Kim the Gymnast, the bubbly, sparkly little dynamo with her sun-blond curls and her baby-blue eyes. She was laughing and chattering. And there was Steffi Lockhart the Singer, with her café au lait skinand her soulful amber eyes, waving an expressive hand and beaming.
    Even Amanda the Cheerleader, Bruce Faber’s girlfriend, was in the group. She was flashing her healthy, wide smile and tossing her shiny brown hair, her fresh face glowing.
    Gillian understood suddenly. The girls couldn’t hate her, or couldn’t show it if they did. Because Gillian had
status
, the instant and unassailable status that came from being beautiful and having guys fall all over themselves for her. She was a rising star, a force, a power to be reckoned with. And any girl who snubbed her was risking a nick in her own popularity if Gillian should decide to