Page 4 of Angel

‘Hey!’ Evangeline yelled.

I lunged forward, clocking Billy right in the jaw with the mud ball without a second thought.

‘Leave my sister alone!’

Billy was eleven going on nineteen, massive and mean.

He retaliated with a gut punch, sending me flying across the dirt.

Evangeline screamed as Billy struck her cheek next, the sound of the slap echoing off the brick walls.

A dark-haired, ten-year-old boy, the Australian kid who had just arrived at our school, sprinted over the parched grass.

With a roar, he tackled Billy into the timber edge of the sandbox.

‘Don’t touch her or her sister ever again,’ the new kid roared, landing blows into Billy’s chest. ‘Do it again, and you’re dead meat.’

Teachers had to drag our growling knight off the now squealing and bleeding Billy into the principal’s office.

Despite the blood on his fists and his torn collar, a smirk played on the newcomer’s handsome face as Billy howled into his hands.

From that second on, my heart was lost to Angel.

However, he had eyes only for Evangeline, falling for her sweet, blonde, blue-eyed, pig-tailed allure.

Contrary to popular belief, she was not the sweetheart she presented to the world.

At home and in private, Evangeline was my tormentor, targeting me with pinches, slaps, and cruel insults in secret.

She stole my toys, then my clothes and makeup, and later even my friendships.

She lied and made me take the blame for her sins.

Worse, our father, Reese, encouraged her behavior, believing her over me every time.

My mother, bless her, did what she could to shield me, but Elsa was also Reese’s punching bag and spent her energy on self-preservation.

I escaped the emotional starvation and bullying through sketchpads, charcoal, and oil paints.

I turned my pain into canvases, using them as journals to process my confusion and loneliness.

Throughout middle and high school, I faded into a wallflower as Angel and Evangeline’s connection blossomed.

Then he chose her as his girlfriend.

Regardless of their relationship, I was besotted with him.

He was perfect in my eyes: the confident, cool kid with unruly black hair and a muscular frame that towered over the other boys, while I was just the awkward, tongue-tied young girl.

He was unaware of his impact and never played up to it, which only made all the girls swoon more and the boys jealous.

He talked with respect both for himself and others.

He rarely cursed, and he always remembered everyone’s names.

Aside from being fit and killing it at sports, he kicked-ass in a garage band, and his guitar skills were off the charts.

Despite his popularity, he remained faithful to Evangeline and, by extension, to me as her sister.