A Shimmer of Angels Page 0,1

projections of an unstable mind. I understood that now. I pulled in a slow breath and forced my eyes open.

I felt stupid relieved to find the wings gone, the guy they’d belonged to swallowed up by the crowd outside the window. I would have laughed at my foolishness had my pulse not been jumping. It was a slip, nothing more. The first in months.

A plastic cup bounced off the black-and-white checkered floor, pulling me back to the hectic shuffle of the diner. Waitresses scrambled to talk, shouting over the louder patrons. Exhausted-looking parents wrestled with squirming kids, shoveling food down their throats before dropping them at school. It was Heaven compared to the silence of a mental institution’s cell, and nowhere near as … colorful as mealtimes with the clinically insane.

“This place is crazy busy.” Lee leaned across our table, his bony elbows bumping the salt shaker on one side, his empty hot chocolate mug on the other. “Are you sure you want to work here?”

Leland Alexander Kyon—spiky-haired beanpole and geek extraordinaire—was not only a total dork, but the best friend I’d ever had. He knew me better than anyone, and if he thought this was a bad idea, I probably should have listened.

“Well, I need a job. My dad says kids today should learn the value of a dollar.” I laid the back of my hand over my forehead and sighed dramatically, mostly to distract him from the way my knee kept bouncing against the underside of the table and the trembling of my fingers set against my own mug of hot chocolate. “So Laylah and I are destined for a life of diner servitude and bad tips.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Dad’s tech job paid well, but my stints at the SS Crazy had resulted not only in my restored sanity, but also huge medical bills. Dad swore it hadn’t affected our financial situation, but I knew he wasn’t being straight with me. It was the little things: the off-brand cereal, the badly patched uniform skirt Laylah had worn every day for a week, even the way he emptied the swear jar every Saturday morning before we’d get up. My family was hurting, and it was my fault. Besides, there was college to think about. I couldn’t let Dad take out loans for me. Not after everything I’d put him through.

Too bad neither Dr. G nor Dad agreed with me that I should have a job. Something about the risk of stress-induced relapse. But Dr. G didn’t have to worry about college. He’d already put his son and daughter through grad school.

I probably could’ve chosen any old job, but I wanted something that would make me feel normal again. And what’s more normal than a waitress at the all-American Roxy’s Diner?

I straightened the silverware over my folded paper napkin, making sure the bottoms of the fork and knife lined up, even as I inched the spoon up to balance the difference in length. A toddler in a highchair across the aisle screamed and flung his chocolate milk at the floor, dousing a passing waitress in a wave of brown, milky rain. I tensed, my fingers knocking the silverware askew.

Lee and I watched the mother send the poor waitress scampering for a milk refill. He shook his head. “Whatever, Ray. It’s your sanity.”

I froze, cutting him a shocked glance. I’d never told Lee about the sanitarium. His mention of my sanity was merely Lee being Lee. Unless he suspected … But he wasn’t looking at me, turning instead to dig some cash from his book bag. He doesn’t know how messed up you are, I reminded myself. And he won’t if you just breathe, act normal. I hated keeping the truth from him, but I hated the thought of him knowing it even more. He was the only friend I had, and I intended to keep him.

Lee tossed a five on the table. “Just remember what I told you: stay positive.” He leaned back in his seat and crunched down on a dark piece of sourdough toast. “Perky wouldn’t hurt, either.”

I speared him a glance. “Perky? Really?”

“Darlin’?” Our waitress called, her voice grating like sandpaper. Weathered laugh lines and crows’ feet defined an otherwise pretty face. “You still interested in the job?”

I nodded and murmured, “Wish me luck.”

Lee shot me a double thumbs-up.

I followed the waitress to a booth by the window. She angled for the seat facing the back of the building, which would leave me the seat