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

retaliate. They were
afraid
not to be nice to her.
    It was dizzying, all right. Gillian felt as beautiful as an angel and as dangerous as a serpent. She was riding on waves of energy and adulation.
    But then she saw something that made her feel as if she had suddenly stepped off a cliff.
    Tanya had David by the arm and they were walking away down the hall.

CHAPTER 8
    Gillian stood perfectly still and watched David disappear around a corner.
    (It’s not time for the plan yet, kid. Now buck up. A cheery face is worth diamonds.)
    Gillian tried to put on a cheery face.
    The strange day continued. In each class, Gillian appealed to the teacher for a new book. In each class, she was bombarded with offers of notes and other help. And through it all Angel whispered in her ear, always suggesting just the right thing to say to each person. He was witty, irreverent, occasionally cutting—and so was Gillian.
    She had an advantage, she realized. Since nobody had ever noticed her before, it was almost like being a new girl. She could be anything she wanted to be, present herself as anyone, and be believed.
    (Like Cinderella at the ball. The mystery princess.) Angel’s voice was amused but tender.
    In journalism class, Gillian found herself beside Daryl Novak, a languid girl with sloe eyes and drooping contemptuous lashes. Daryl the Rich Girl, Daryl the World-weary World Traveler. She talked to Gillian as if Gillian knew all about Paris and Rome and California.
    At lunch, Gillian hesitated as she walked into the cafeteria. Usually she sat with Amy in an obscure corner at the back. But recently Eugene had been sitting with Amy, and up front she could see a group that included Amanda the Cheerleader, Kim the Gymnast, and others from The Clique. David and Tanya were at the edge.
    (Do I sit with them? Nobody asked me.)
    (Not with them, my little rutabaga. But near them. Sit at the end of that table just beside them. Don’t look at them as you walk by. Look at your lunch. Start eating it.)
    Gillian had never eaten her lunch alone before—or at least not in a public place. On days Amy was absent, if she couldn’t find one of the few other juniors she felt comfortable with, she snuck into the library and ate there.
    In the old days she would have felt horribly exposed, but now she wasn’t really alone; she had Angel cracking jokes in her ear. And she had a new confidence. She could almost see herself eating, calm and indifferent to stares, thoughtful to the point of being dreamy. She tried to makeher movements a little languid, like Daryl the Rich Girl’s.
    (And I hope Amy doesn’t think I’m snubbing her. I mean, it’s not as if she’s back there alone. She’s got Eugene.)
    (Yeah. We’re gonna have to talk about Amy sometime, kid. But right now you’re being paged. Smile and be gracious.)
    â€œJill! Earth to Jill!”
    â€œHey, Jill, c’mon over.”
    They wanted her. She was moving her lunch over to their table, and she wasn’t spilling anything and she wasn’t falling as she slid in. She was little and graceful, thistledown light in her movements, and they were surging around her to form a warm and friendly bulwark.
    And she wasn’t afraid of them. That was the most wonderful thing of all. These kids who’d seemed to her like stars in some TV show about teenagers, were real people who got crumbs on themselves and made jokes she could understand.
    Gillian had always wondered what they found so
funny
when they were laughing together. But now she knew it was just the heady atmosphere, the knowledge that they were special. It made it easy to laugh at everything. She knew David, sitting quietly there with Tanya, could see her laughing.
    She could hear other voices occasionally, from people on the fringes of her group, people on the outside looking in. Mostly bright chatter and murmurs of admiration. She thought she heard her name mentioned….
    And then she