She set the food down and served Faye’s portion before pulling out a chair for herself.
The two of them unwrapped their sandwiches and fell to eating. A few bites later, Faye sighed with satisfaction. “Ahhh, that’s better. In my day, we didn’t have malls that were the size of a small city. A morning of shopping in a place like this can work up quite an appetite, don’t you think?”
Hannah nodded mutely in agreement, her mouth full.
“I believe we’ve gotten everything on your list,” the old woman ventured.
Hannah drew a piece of notepaper out of her pants pocket and consulted it. “Yes, I think you’re right, Granny Faye.”
She’d taken to calling the old woman by that affectionate title after confessing that Faye felt like kin to her. Hannah had declined the suggestion to use the title of “Gamma” since that was Zachary’s special name, so they’d settled on “Granny” or “Granny Faye” as being sufficiently familial.
Faye checked her wrist watch. “Didn’t Zachary say he would meet us here at one-thirty?”
Hannah’s face beamed. “He did, and there he is.”
Faye’s great-great-something-or-other grandson made a beeline for their table the moment he spotted them. Trying not to show disdain for their carnivorous meal, the young vegan said, “I’ll get something from the potato bar. Be back in a few.”
Faye and Hannah continued eating in a companionable silence until he returned.
Yanking out a chair and plopping down unceremoniously, he asked, “What’s up?”
Hannah looked briefly puzzled. “What’s up where?” Catching herself, she hastened to add, “Oh, that was slang, wasn’t it? If you meant to ask what we’ve been doing, we’ve gotten most of my school clothes and supplies.”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” the boy replied, diving into his baked potato covered in tomato-vegetable sauce. “That’s why I wanted to skip the shopping trip this morning. The idea of hanging around stores while chicks try on clothes and ask my fashion opinion really creeps me out.”
“Very chivalrous of you,” Faye chided gently.
“Yeah, well...” he trailed off and changed the subject. “Did her school paperwork check out OK?”
“Everything went smoothly,” Faye replied. “Our Hannah has been enrolled as a sophomore student at Emerson High School.”
“What line did you give the principal?” Zach asked, stuffing an oversized chunk of potato into his mouth.
“My people were able to create records showing that Hannah is an orphan. I’m her grandmother and legal guardian. Of course, her name isn’t Hannah. As far as the school is concerned, her name is Ashley Smith. I took your advice, Zachary, and combined the most popular girl’s name with the most common surname in America. Let the Nephilim find her if they can. There are three other Ashley Smiths at her school alone.”
“I don’t know who these people of yours are,” Hannah piped up. “But they must be very clever.”
Faye and Zach exchanged guilty glances. For Hannah’s own protection it was critical that she know as little about the Arkana as possible, much less Faye’s role as the secret organization’s leader.
Zach leaped in with an explanation. “‘Her people.’ That’s just an expression we have out here in the world. You know, more slang.” He hastily returned to the main topic of conversation. “So, does the principal think she’s a transfer student from someplace else?”
“No, dear.” Faye took a sip of cola. “The records show she’s been home-schooled until now though, thanks to your tutelage, she easily passed the school’s admission test.”
“That’s good.” The boy sounded relieved but then scowled as a new thought crossed his mind. “Emerson, huh. My school plays the Emerson varsity teams—football, basketball. You gotta watch out for those guys.”
Hannah’s eyes grew round with alarm. “Are they dangerous?”
“You bet they are. They’re all on the make.”
“What do they make?” the girl asked cautiously.
“Girls, that’s what.” Zach pushed his tray to the side and leaned his elbows on the table.
“Girls,” Hannah repeated dubiously. “You mean they manufacture girls like in that old movie we watched about the lady monster with the streaky hair?”
Zach stared at her in perplexity for a few seconds before understanding dawned. “No, I don’t mean like the Bride of Frankenstein. I mean Emerson guys are on the make. They’re out to get chicks.”
“I really don’t think your explanation is helping, Zachary,” his ancestor observed dryly. “Let me try.” Turning toward the girl, she said, “My descendent is cautioning you against becoming too familiar with the young men at your new school since they may be overly amorous.”
Hannah gasped. “Oh, my!”
“However, I feel compelled to add that Zach is clearly overstating the problem. All boys at that age get carried away in the presence of pretty girls.”
The girl blushed. “You think I’m pretty? I mean... uh... among the Nephilim I was considered pretty. Even though vanity is a sin, the diviner himself told me I was. But out here in the Fallen World, I didn’t think... That is...”
Faye smiled quietly to herself. Hannah was indeed a looker, as the young people might say. She was now quite at ease wearing the fashions of the outside world but still seemed oblivious to the effect she had on the opposite sex.
Zach snorted in disbelief. “Like you don’t know you’re a total shorty!”
“Shorty?” Hannah repeated. “I always thought I was considered tall for a girl.”
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Zach said, “It’s a slang expression. It means you’re really good-looking.”
Flustered, she stood up abruptly. “I have to... um... powder my nose.” She bolted for the ladies’
