"It was Mr. Hope for me."

I paused. Well, maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe it was a trick. "He retired two years ago."

"He retired? He's in his twenties."

"G.o.d no, he's ancient."

"We're talking Mr. Hope, right? Really tall, moved down from Boston..."

"...Yeah. Ages ago."

"He just started this past year."

This time we each stared at the other, and it was pretty obvious we were both super confused.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered.

"I think you're nuts."

"Yes, I know that."

We stared at each other for a little while longer.

"What's your name?" he asked finally.

It seemed like a really personal question. I didn't see why he cared. "Riley."

"Riley." He s.h.i.+fted a little on the spot. I guess trying to make himself more comfortable. "I'm Gabe."

I laughed. I couldn't help it, it was a spontaneous reaction.

"What's so funny aboutZ"K2 that?"

"Gabe. Would that be short for anything?"

He thought for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"You are an angel."

"That's it, dollface. You've got it. I am. Can you untie me now?"

"If you're admitting to being an angel, then no, no I can't. Because I don't trust angels, and you still haven't answered my questions."

"Okay, I take it back. I'm not. Can you untie me now?"

"And if you're denying it, then no, no I can't. Because then you're trying to trick me, and you're even more dangerous than if you'd admitted to it."

"Having fun, sweetheart?"

I was. "Not really no."

"So what happens next?" he asked with a sigh.

That was definitely the question of the moment. What did happen next? I couldn't just leave him tied up in my shed because it wasn't my shed. It was Daddy's shed, and he'd be pretty shocked to find a naked guy tied up in it.

But I couldn't let Gabe go either.

I really had no idea what to do. So I said, "Next is you stay here and I try to figure out what happens next." I stood up. "Okay, so now I have to gag you again. Are you going to make a fuss?"

"I'll be a good boy," he replied with a smirk, "on one condition."

"Yeah?"

d;

A couple of really lucky things happened next. The first, and luckiest, was that Daddy had to leave. Don't get me wrong. When Daddy left it was always sad, but it was still a really lucky thing for me. See, the only person who used the tool shed was Daddy.

He almost went into it to give the lawn a final mow before he left, but I stopped him with a lame excuse of wanting to hang out, promising I'd mow it when he was gone. I'd never touched that push mower in my life, but Daddy didn't remember that.

I actually hadn't minded spending that time with him, knowing I wouldn't see him much in the next couple months. Daddy moved to New Orleans every fall when the new term started up at Tulane. He'd come home on weekends once things got settled in. Sometimes we'd go up to see him, even watch him teach. This had been how we'd got on since earlier than I could remember. It seemed to work for our family. But it didn a run for his money. probablyll't mean that Mother and I still didn't miss him.

Daddy left Monday first thing. By then, I'd only had the angel in our shed for a day so he hadn't had time to notice the missing food. Or his missing jeans and one of his white T-s.h.i.+rts. And his shoes. The old ones that he never wore anymore. At least I'd hoped he never wore them anymore.

I worried my prisoner was planning something. A breakout or something. That first time when he changed into his clothes and I had to untie him and everything, oh man, that first time was really tense. I'd brought the shotgun in with me. And, like with the garden shears, he seemed to think I was totally willing to go through with shooting him (again). Made sense, I suppose. After all, he did think I was totally out of my mind. So he was pretty pa.s.sive. Of course, I had to keep my eye on him the entire time he got dressed, couldn't turn away in case he took advantage of that moment.

It was pretty embarra.s.sing actually.

At least, I mean, at least for me it was. I actually don't think Gabe would have minded spending his time in the shed naked, despite the fact it was his idea to get the clothes. It was warm enough after all, and he seemed very comfortable in his own skin...in his own...everything else. Standing in front of me, putting on the clothes...he took an awful long time is all I'm saying.

Anyway.

The next lucky thing happened when I went to pick up my timetable for school that same day. This was a pretty big deal, actually, what happened next, and it made me feel kind of stupid. See, the thing is, I'm pretty smart, not just with the stuff that comes out of books, but in applying the stuff that comes out of books. I'm a pretty good problem solver is what I'm saying.

But still.

I'd shown up pretty early. I'd been up first thing to check on Gabe. He'd been asleep, so it hadn't taken long. Having nothing better to do, I walked into town and sat on the bench in the square. The one by the fountain in front of the town hall. I liked to sit there, at least when it was free. It was perfect for people watching. From that bench you could see the heart of our little community. The town hall with its whitewashed bell tower. The shops and the grocery store. The sidewalks lined with small trees caged in wire at the bottom. The Catholic Church looking totally out of place.

First thing on a Monday morning, things were coming slowly to life. There wasn't a lot of work in town. Most people commuted to New Adamstead, which was around three times bigger. But the shop owners would soon open up. I knew them all. Pam, who worked at the flower shop. Dan at the old bookstore. George Smith Sr. who ran the post office and George Smith Jr. who ran the liquor store. All of them.

Finally the clock on the town hall struck nine, and I walked up Main Street, took a left and then a right, and found myself staring at the school. It looked pretty deserted and really small. I guessed it was probably the students usually loitering on campus that made it look a bit bigger, but right now, all on its own, only two cars in the lot, it looked kind of pathetic. I'd remembered getting a tour of my cousin's school in Rochester. Red brick, twice as large, with a brand new football field out back.

I went inside.

"Riley Carver, you're here early. Keen to get started?" Mrs. Jackson was the school secretary, always wearing that blonde wig of hers, kind of crazy happy sometimes. I thought maybe it had to do with her wearing the wig in our muggy heat, with only the ceiling fan to keep her cool. But she was nice and pretty good at her job, as far as I could tell.

"I guess. Can I just pickup my sche" I said and laughed., felt dule from you?"

"Of course you can. Let me go round back, though. We're still not set up yet."

I nodded and took a seat on the small bench in the corner as Mrs. Jackson disappeared into the VP's office.

I sat and waited, feeling a bit anxious to get back to Gabe. To try to relax, I focused in on the honor roll lists hanging opposite me. I noticed they'd done last year's already. My stomach clenched when I realized I hadn't made it for the first time. Didn't matter. I'd make up for it this year. I would. I'd stay focused. Not worry about Chris. Or the angel bound and gagged in my shed. That wasn't a distraction. Not a distraction at all.

This wasn't helping calm me down. I stood up in frustration to look at some of the pictures of previous graduating cla.s.ses instead.

That's when the second lucky thing happened.

I like looking at old-fas.h.i.+oned pictures. I like the clothing, how unreal it all seems that people actually wore that stuff, and they weren't just actors playing characters in movies. And so I'd started with the 1941 grads instead of the most recent. It was when I hit 1949 that I saw it.

Mr. Anders. Princ.i.p.al.

"Holy s.h.i.+t."

"I beg your pardon?"

I turned around to see a very displeased looking Mrs. Jackson.

"Uh, sorry, Mrs. Jackson."

"You know better than to use that kind of language, Riley."

"I know, I know...I was just..." I turned back to the pictures. "I was just looking at the pictures."

"Yes?"

"How long was Mr. Anders princ.i.p.al?"

"Who, dear?"

I pointed at the small black and white picture at the top of the cla.s.s of 1949.

"Oh, Mr. Anders. I don't really know, dear. Let's see." She came round the desk and stood next to me. Together we scanned the pictures till we stopped at 1961. "Well, there you go then: Mr. Rupert."

My heart was in my throat. If what Gabe had told me was true, then he was at school when Mr. Anders was princ.i.p.al, and if that was the case then..."

"Mrs. Jackson, what about Mr. Hope."

"What about him, dear?"

"When did he come to the school?"

"Ages ago," she replied.

"Can you be more specific?"

Mrs. Jackson looked at me, and I could tell she was a bit confused. And hot. Her face was getting flushed, and she was fanning herself with what I a.s.sumed was my timetable.

"Well, dear..." She returned to her side of the desk and started typing into her computer. "We don't really have those kinds of records here, but I can pull up Mrs. Johnson's retirement speech for him. That might help."

I nodded and crossed over to the long counter that hid her desk and leaned against it to wait.

"Here we are..." She took a moment to scan through the speech. "He started the fall of 1955. Wow, I didn't realize how long he'd taught here. He should have taken his retirement years ago. He did love his students, though..."

"And do you have any yearbooks from that year?" I interrupted her way too eagerly. I think it frightened her.

"In the library."

"Can I see?" I didn't see much point pretending this wasn't exciting for me. She couldn't possibly have guessed why. Besides everyone in the town knew I was a little odd. I didn't really think I was. I was just pretty honest about stuff like thoughts and emotions. Still, I guess most people felt that made me strange.

"Okay..."

Mrs. Jackson led me to the library, unlocked it for me, and escorted me over to the archived yearbooks in the back, the section that was basically used for makeout sessions and not really for any kind of research. It made sense I'd never noticed them before.

"Here you go. Now Riley, can I just give you your timetable and go back to the office? Other students might show up."

"Of course, Mrs. Jackson."

"I'll leave the door locked. You just make sure to close it all the way when you leave."

"Yup." I was already sitting on the ground paging through the yearbook. I didn't see or hear Mrs. Jackson leave, I just knew she had left when I glanced up and saw her gone, my timetable on the floor in her place.

So I went back to the book and started with the freshmen. Of course the names were alphabetical by last name, which made things tough, as I didn't know what Gabe's was, but I could be very systematic if I had to be. Something I'd inherited from having a Daddy who was a scientist.

I saw him, second page of juniors.

Oh my G.o.d.

Gabe McClure.

McClure.

My angel had a last name.

He looked just like himself, in a b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, open at the top, no tie unlike most of his male cla.s.smates. Hair gelled up and back, totally retro. It was him.

It was him.

I got up quickly, gave myself a head rush, and pulled 1954 off the shelf so I could see him as a freshman. I laughed out loud when I looked at the picture. This time he was wearing a tie, his hair was parted on the side, his bangs brushed flat across his forehead. He looked, for want of a better word, like a total geek.