Shattering Halos Read Free

miraculously recovered in the minute they left, and by the time we entered the bathroom, she was back to her normal, spunky self.
    “Okay, Gaia, watch. You’re so going to love this.”
    I hadn’t felt the urge to study myself over the last months. Now, with the halo track off, I didn’t object when Luna turned me to face the mirror. Exposing tiny, shaved areas on my head, she showed me where the screws had been.
    From the mirror, a skinnier, paler me stared back, but my hair still flowed long and thick the way it always had. A brief rush of excitement flooded me at the one constant of my appearance.
    “Wow, they really didn’t mess with my hair, did they, when I came in.”
    “Nope, Mom threw a fit. Dad told her it was a crazy thing to worry about, but she didn’t care,” Luna said.
    “Damn, she’s so stubborn.” I grinned.
    Luna brushed the strands so they covered all bare spots except for the ones by my temples. “All you have to do is wash your hair, because it’s nasty, and then you’ll arrange it like this.”
    “Yeah, you’ll be a better hairdresser than nurse, Luna. I didn’t hear a single ‘oh, gross’ just now.”
    Three months after the accident, I was finally allowed to leave the hospital. My new companion, a tight neck brace, came with me. Strange, how saying goodbye to the doctors and nurses made me feel empty all over again.

Chapter 3 — School
    Gaia
    Against all odds, it was wonderful to melt into the everyday routine of school. Teachers and classmates shielded me throughout the schooldays, always diverting my attention from what I’d been through. Friendly comments abounded, and students I’d never spoken with before invited me to sit at their lunch tables. It diminished the highs and lows of settling back in. Grateful, I wondered how I would have survived if they had acted as unofficial grief counselors instead.
    Compassion compelled the school board in our little town to shift me up to senior status with the new academic year. Since I had different classes from the former year, I wasn’t reminded of laughing with Megan in British Literature or leaning drowsily on Chris in Trig.
    In my Computer Apps class, I met Marina, a lively girl of Italian descent who’d moved to Spring Hills while I was hospitalized. Marina danced instead of walked and giggled while she talked. We were both starting fresh—albeit in different ways—and she suited my return to the world well.
    Marina was full of questions, but thankfully her interest in the accident seemed minimal. When it came to my neck brace, though, she had a healthy dose of curiosity.
    “Hey, so do you have to wear that thing all the time? You’d look better without it.”
    “Gee, I hope I do. It’s not a fashion statement, Marina. And yes, I wear the neck brace all the time. Even at night.”
    “Ah, I figured.”
    “Smart girl.”
    “So for the rest of your life, then?”
    “No! Thank God, no…” I snorted.
    “Yay for you—do they have it in other colors? Teal would suit you really well. Oh—oh, I know!”
    “What?” I stifled a groan.
    “I could find you a Disney princess edition. Belle! Which Disney princess is your favorite?”
    “Uh, I don’t know. None of them?”
    She moved on seamlessly. “Can I try it on?”
    “What? No! Not in a million years!”
    Having Marina around lifted my spirits. She always tried to make me laugh. We bonded over starting fresh, our aversion to the school pasta, and soon our talks included my art, Marina’s religion, and our plans for the future.
    During one of these lunches, Marina was chattering away as we entered the cafeteria.
    “Did you notice how the lunch lady sloshed the lasagna onto the plate with a freaking ladle the other day? So disgusting,” Marina said.
    “Yeah, there’s got to be tons of leftovers on pasta days.”
    We’d been let out before the bell rang, and the ceramic floor by the buffet flashed slick with moisture. A waft of detergent reached me, raising a