Александра Адорнетто - Halo

“You don’t always have to come,” I said to him one night as we waited for the train that would take us down to the soup kitchens in Port Circe.

“I know,” he said. “But I want to come. I’ve been brought up to believe community’s important.”

“But you have so much more on your plate than I do. I don’t want to add pressure.”

“Quit worrying. I know how to manage my time.”

“Don’t you have a French oral tomorrow?”

“No, we have a French oral tomorrow—that’s why I’ve brought this.” He drew a textbook from his backpack. “We can study on the way.”

I’d gradually become more comfortable with trains, and riding with Xavier certainly helped. We found seats on a car that was empty, save for a wizened old man who was nodding off and drooling onto his shirt. There was a bottle in a brown paper bag between his feet.

We opened the textbook and had only been reading a few minutes when Xavier looked up.

“Heaven must be pretty big,” he said. He spoke softly, so I didn’t tell him off for bringing up the subject in public. “How much space would you need to fit all those souls? I guess it’s just the concept of infinity that throws me.”

“Actually there are seven realms of heaven,” I said suddenly, wanting to share my knowledge with Xavier even though I knew it was against our laws.

Xavier sighed and flopped back in his seat.

“Just when I thought I was getting my head around it. How can there be seven?”

“There’s only a throne in the First Heaven,” I said. “And angels that preach the word of the Lord. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit dwell in the Seventh Heaven—which is the ultimate realm.”

“But what’s the point?”

“Different realms have different functions. It’s like working your way up to meet the CEO of a company.”

Xavier massaged his temples.

“I’ve got a lot to learn, don’t I?”

“There are just lots of rules to remember,” I said. “The Second Heaven is the same distance as the First Heaven to earth, the angels on the right are always more glorious than the ones on the left; entry to the Sixth Heaven is quite complicated, and you have to travel into the air outside Heaven’s door, and I know that seems confusing but you’ll know which is which because the lower heavens are dark compared to the brilliance of the Seventh. . . .”

“Stop,” Xavier said. “Stop before my brain explodes.”

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I guess it is a lot to take in.”

Xavier grinned at me. “Try to remember that I’m only human.”

Xavier invited me to watch his team play in the end-of-season rugby game. I knew it was important to him, so I arranged to go with Molly and her friends, who usually acted as the Bryce

Hamilton cheer squad at games. What they called school spirit was really more of a thin excuse to watch boys in shorts run around a field and work up a sweat. The girls always made sure they had a supply of cool drinks to pass around during breaks, in the hope of being rewarded with a compliment or, better yet, a date.

It was a home game, so I made my way down to the field with Molly and the girls. The rugby team was already there when we arrived, warming up in their black-and-red-striped jerseys. The opposition, Middleton Preparatory School, stood at the other end of the field in green and yellow. They were listening intently to their beet-faced coach, who looked on the verge of an aneurism. Xavier waved for a second when he saw me, then resumed the warm-up.

Before the game began the Bryce Hamilton team huddled together and chanted some motivational mantra about the mighty red and black army. They jogged on the spot and hugged while they waited for the referee to blow his whistle.

“Typical,” Molly muttered. “Nothing like sports to drag some emotion out of them.”

As soon as the game began, I realized that I would never be a fan of rugby. It was too aggressive. The sport mainly consisted of players smashing into one another in an attempt to wrestle the ball from the opposition’s grasp. I watched one of Xavier’s teammates charge up the field, the ball securely lodged under his arm. He dodged two of the Middleton players, who pursued him ruthlessly. When he was a few yards away from the goal, he threw himself forward into the air and landed sprawled on the ground, his arms stretched over his head. His hands, clasping the ball, lay just over the line. One of the players from Middleton, who had attempted a tackle in the hope of blocking the goal, landed on top of him. The Bryce Hamilton team broke into whoops and cheers, helping their player up and thumping him on the back as he staggered back to the center of the field.

I was shielding my eyes to avoid witnessing two players collide when Molly nudged me.

“Who’s that guy?” she said, pointing to a figure standing on the other side of the field. It was a young man in a long leather jacket. His identity was concealed by a fedora and a long scarf he’d wound around the lower half of his face.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “A parent maybe?”

“Pretty weird-looking parent,” Molly said. “Why is he standing there by himself?”

We quickly forgot about the stranger and reverted to watching the game. I grew steadily more nervous as it progressed. The Middleton boys were merciless and most of them looked like tanks. I felt my heart rate increase and my breathing become more rapid whenever any of them went near Xavier. Given the nature of the game, this happened quite often and Xavier wasn’t one to stick to the perimeter. He wanted to be in the thick of things and was just as competitive as the rest of them. I had to admit that as much as I disliked rugby, he was a skilled player. He was fast and strong, and best of all, he played fair. I watched him streak toward the goal and slam the ball into the ground. Whenever one of the other players grabbed him or knocked him to the ground, he was up again in a matter of seconds. He was unfaltering. Eventually I stopped wincing about potential scrapes and bruises, stopped worrying about his safety, and started feeling proud of him. I cheered and waved Molly’s pom-poms in the air whenever he had the ball.

By halftime Bryce Hamilton was ahead by three points. Xavier jogged over to the sideline where I ran to meet him.

“Thanks for coming,” he panted. “I know this probably isn’t your thing.” He gave me his endearing half-smile as he tipped a bottle of water over his head.

“You’re amazing out there,” I said, pushing back the wet hair that was plastered across his forehead. “But you’ve got to be careful, the Middleton boys are huge.”

“Skill over size,” he said.

I looked in anguish at a long scratch across his forearm. “How did this happen?”

“It’s just a scratch.” He laughed at my concern.

“It might be just a scratch to you, but it’s a scratch on my arm, which I don’t want to see damaged.”

“So is everything marked as property of Bethany Church or just the arm?”

“Every inch of you, so be careful.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“I’m serious. I hope you realize you can’t lecture me about safety ever again,” I said.

“Babe, injuries are inevitable. It’s all part of the game. You can play nurse afterward if you like.” He threw me a wink over his shoulder as the horn sounded for play to resume. “Don’t worry, I’m invincible.”

I watched him jog lightly back to his teammates and noticed that the boy in the leather jacket was still standing by the opposite sidelines. His hands were dug deep in his pockets. I still couldn’t see his face.

With ten minutes till the end of the game, the Bryce Hamilton boys looked as if they had victory in the bag. The opposition’s coach was doing a lot of head shaking and had to keep mopping sweat from his brow. His players looked furious and desperate. It didn’t take them long to employ dirtier tactics. Xavier had the ball and was running up the field when two of the