Beautiful Beings by Kailin Gow

with all that?” I asked
    He cocked a brow of indignation and reached into my locker to take the small canvas bag that housed my science and history books.  “Eyaw,” he whinnied as he walked off.
    Laughing behind my hand, I closed my locker and hurried after him. “I should probably tell my parents I won’t be home for dinner.”
    Shifting the weight of his load, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over.
    Oblivious to how the instrument worked, I stared at the screen a moment. 
    Braxton smiled, a warm smile that lacked all mockery or condescension.  “Here, what’s your number?”
    There was something paternal in his manner, in the way he took care of me.  He punched in the number I gave him and handed me the phone again.
    After leaving a brief message to my parents, I returned the phone to him, our fingers brushing together ever so slightly. We’d reached his car, a beautiful black Escalade.
    “Quite a chariot for a mule,” I teased.
    He opened my door, waited until I was comfortably seated in the cushy leather seat before going to the back to dump his weighty load.
    “Are you always such a gentleman?” I asked when he got in.
    “My father believed very much in treating women right, while my mother balanced that by reminding me that women were strong and capable of much more than men wanted to believe.  Between them, I hope I have a healthy view of man/woman relations. There’s nothing wrong with being a gentleman, especially if it gets you a chance to be with a girl like you.” 
    He drove off, his driving fluid and soothing. No quick passing, bumper hugging or tire screeching around curves as so many young men were apt to enjoy.  He patiently waited at a corner as a young mother crossed the street pushing a baby carriage and holding the hand of a young child, and when another young man in a red Honda Civic rudely cut him off, he didn’t even furrow his brow, but simply relaxed the accelerator, letting the hot head go his merry way.
    The maturity with which he carried himself impressed me, perhaps even surpassing the great maturity I prided myself with.  No doubt I would have honked my fury at the Civic.
    Once inside the raven gate, he pulled up in front of the imposing home and lugged out our many bags, then guided me through the mansion, straight to the back terrace.  The house, now silent and bereft of any life, left me chilled and uncomfortable, and all the more eager to reach the sunny view with the eye-pleasing view.
    “Not quite the same atmosphere as last night,” Brax commented quietly.
    “Is it always like this?” I whispered with the fear of disturbing some unseen entity.
    “Pretty much.” He set the books down on the teak table.
    “I thought you had a lot of friends at St. James.”  I settled into the chair that offered a glimpse of the Golden Gate.
    “Not so much friends as acquaintances.  Like so many at the school, I got trapped into a clique, the obscenely rich clique. I tried hanging out with kids who… well, who weren’t as rich, but they didn’t want anything to do with me, as though I had the plague or something. I get along with everyone but I’m not really that close to anyone in particular. I think being the kid whose parents disappeared so mysteriously kinda makes other kids wary of me. The Hatchett twins are the only ones who’ve had that kind of stigma, too, despite being so obscenely rich.”
    “The plague,” I repeated with a sarcastic arch of my brow.  “Who knew being rich could prove so problematic.”  I’d watched my parents struggle to make house payments, juggle grocery bills with electric bills, even buy me second hand clothes when Mom was between jobs. I couldn’t muster up much empathy for the boy who had it so easy.
    Braxton’s glare told me he didn’t see it that way.  He threw himself into the chair beside me and clasped his hands together over his belly.
    “Sorry, Brax, but both my parents work their butts off in