SHADES of GREEN ↬ m. wheeler

II. ANGELS

CHAPTER TWO
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❝ANGELS❞

　
　

THE SOFT PATTER of rain calmed Jade's nerves like a lullaby. She had arrived early on her second day of school, and had gone inside immediately, determined not to be late again. A wave of relief washed over her when she found the staircase—and then annoyance at the fact that she had not been able to find it before.

　Due to the rain, there was no one to roam the schoolyard. Class would begin in little under fifteen minutes, and dozens of teenagers hung out in the hallways and at lockers. Jade earned several stares, was the subject of multiple whispering voices, and she found herself chewing her lip again.

　There were lockers downstairs, too. This was where Jade would find hers. The previous day, she had stuffed all of her new textbooks into them. This morning, she had a small accessory to add.

　The downstairs area was considerably quieter. Jade found her locker—number eleven, one of the first—and successfully twisted in her new combination in one try. She slid her fingers into her back pocket and produced a polaroid picture. The white strip below the picture of a handsome, chocolate-skinned man bore one word in black, elegant script.

Daddy

　Jade stared at the photo longingly before pinning it onto the inside of her locker. It was one of the only pictures she had of her father. Her mother had dozens, maybe more, but Jade had only this one and two others to herself.

　All of a sudden, the door at the end of the hall nearest Jade swung open, breaking her out of her reverie. She glanced to the side—and her heart, only for a second, skipped like a broken record.

　Mike Wheeler strolled inside, head down, wild curls falling near his eyes. His cheekbones were high and shadowed. Jade was not quite an artist, but she thought that dedicated artists would jump at the chance to draw something so beautiful. Or they could try—but Jade doubted something so wonderfully sculpted could ever be properly replicated.

　Jade swallowed and turned her head. Not only was she ridiculous for having such thoughts, but she was stupid. Even if the boy did look like some sort of dark angel, perfectly contrasted in light and shadow—his dark hair and dark eyes, pale skin and—

　She was stupid because someone like Mike Wheeler would break her heart. Someone like anyone would find nothing alluring about her, she thought. She was nothing special. Boys liked girls like Esme, with milky skin and silky hair—a white girl. And Jade was the opposite, with her dark skin and kinky curls. The only thing she found unique about herself was her green eyes, and she was sometimes even teased for that. "Aren't black girls supposed to have dark eyes?" she'd been asked on more than a few occasions. She liked them anyway, though.

　Mike passed her, and Jade kept her head down until he was well past. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne and closed her eyes against the mouth-watering scent. Jade had no idea where this small crush had come from, but this certainly did not help to push it away.

　With a sigh, Jade pulled out her Chemistry book and slammed her locker closed. Down the hall, Mike was twisting at the padlock on his locker. As she passed him, she dared to glance— His locker number was forty-two.

　Jade hugged her Chemistry textbook close to her chest, pressing her lips onto the top. She kept her eyes focused on the ground, watched her Converse move on the tile. And she didn't notice the way Mike's head turned an inch in her direction.