Radiance

by Alyson Noel

  Up until then, I’d never seen such a large group of well-behaved students, especially at an assembly like this. And I couldn’t help but hope that wouldn’t always be the case. That we didn’t all just immediately turn into angels and saints by virtue of being Here. That somewhere in the crowd was at least one potential friend who’d understand the fundamental value of goofing off.

  Because if not, well, how boring would that be?

  And I was so lost in the thought I didn’t even realize the music had started until cheerleader girl nudged me on the arm and pointed to where Perseus now stood center stage. An electric guitar strapped across his chest as he led us all in a rousing chorus of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” Dragging the song out for much longer than necessary, much longer than I remember it being, and even adding in some major guitar riffs I know for a fact I never heard on my dad’s old CDs. Gladly accepting his standing ovation the moment it was finally, mercifully over, and promptly discarding his glittering robe and revealing himself to be just another old-school hippie in faded jeans, vintage Rolling Stones concert tee, and bare feet.

  You shoulda been ’ere last time when he made us sing “Get Off of My Cloud,” cheerleader girl thought, pushing down on my shoulder, signaling that it was time to sit once again, and leaning toward me when she whispered, “It went on forever. I swear, he’s just biding his time ’til Mick and Keith show up, then we’ll never see ’im again.” And when she pulled away, she smiled so brightly it made her whole body radiate with the most wonderful green-tinged glow.

  “How’d you do that?” I asked, ignoring whatever telepathic message Perseus was now sending in favor of taking in her long rows of braids with the beautiful, multicolored beads dangling from the ends, her large, brown eyes, full pink lips, and dark skin. Seeing the question in her gaze, the way her head cocked to the side, and further explaining when I thought: You know, glow like that? How’d you do it?

  She looked at me, eyes narrowed as she took her time taking me in. Starting at my shoes and slowly working her way up to my bangs that were brushed to the side in the way I’d recently started experimenting with. Seemingly just about ready to give me the answer when the guy on my left nudged me and said, “Excuse me, but—do you mind?”

  I pulled my feet in, watching as he glided past my knees, down the stairs, and onto the stage where he stood beside Perseus. Beaming into the crowd as though he’d just accomplished something majorly important and big, though I couldn’t, for the life of me, even begin to guess what that might’ve possibly been.

  And when the dorky guy in front of me made his way down too, I was surprised to see him greeted by a series of cheers and claps and even a couple wolf whistles along with a catcall or two. Then, just a moment after that, cheerleader girl turned to me, placed her hand right on my knee, and in her thick British accent said, “You’re new ’ere, right?”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t really need to since she only paused for a second before she was talking again.

  “I can always tell. But don’t worry. Eventually all of yer questions will be answered. Every single one. But only eventually.” She eyeballed me again, adding, “And not ’til yer ready.” And before I could even respond, she was gone.

  That radiant glow practically drifting behind her as she made her way down the stairs and onto the stage, smiling and waving at those of us still left sitting in the stands. Her gaze meeting mine and holding for a moment as she thought: Just chill. The right person will find you and show you the way. And then she turned toward dorky guy and whispered in his ear.

  I gazed all around, wondering just exactly who that right person might be. Were they on the stage? In the stands? Or maybe even somewhere else entirely? And how did those people standing on the stage even know it was their turn to head down? I mean, it’s not like I’d heard any summoning-type thoughts or any long list of names shouted out. Somehow, it just seemed as though everyone knew exactly where to go, when to go there, and what to do once they arrived.

  Everyone seemed to know just exactly what was going on—and just exactly what it meant.

  Everyone had a purpose.

  Everyone but me.

  To me, it all just seemed like a confusingly random, completely unrelated string of events.

  But then, after watching a little bit longer, I realized that it might not be nearly as random as it first seemed, because everyone on that stage shared one thing in common.

  One majorly big thing that the rest of us lacked.

  They were all glowing.

  Their bodies radiating the most beautiful, shimmering, deep green glow.

  While the rest of us left sitting in the stands were made up of the varying shades of the ghostly pale spectrum.

  I held my hands out before me and examined them closely just to make sure I wasn’t missing something. But despite seeing a manicure desperately in need of a do-over, it was pretty much business as usual. Slim fingers, small knuckles, a freckle or two, but no glow in sight, not even a hint.

  Once the stage was pretty much full, everyone around me stood in applause. And not wanting to appear totally clueless, I rose along with them. Jumping to my feet and covertly readjusting my blazer and smoothing my skirt, it wasn’t long before it was over and I was merging along with the crowd once again, directing my question at anyone who might be kind enough to answer when I called out, “So—where to now?”

  Hoping someone might be willing to pitch in and help out a newbie in need—give a little push in the right direction, or even the general direction would do—since I was beginning to feel even more clueless than when I first arrived at this place. And so far, nothing I’d seen resembled anything school-like, nor did it make the least bit of sense.

  “We go to our assigned place, and you go to your assigned place,” the guy before me said, glancing over his shoulder long enough to tack on a not-so-polite-sounding “Where else?” that immediately made my cheeks flush bright pink and my lips clamp tightly shut.

  I took a deep breath (and no, I no longer had to breathe, but some habits really do die hard) and did my best to keep to myself and just shuffle along with the rest of them. My mind spinning with questions, wondering: Where the heck were we going—why was everyone acting so quiet and obedient—not to mention, just exactly where were these supposed friends my parents swore I’d find—the ones with common interests—the ones who liked to goof off and have a good time?

  And the more I looked around, the more convinced I became that as far as schools went, this had to be the weirdest one of all.

  And as far as the students went, well, they were weird too.

  And there was just no getting around it—the whole thing was giving me a major case of the creeps.

  I continued to gaze all around, desperate to find someone, anyone, that I might be able to talk to, someone who might be able to clue me in to where we were all heading—and what I was in for once we got there.

  But—nothing.

  Most of them wouldn’t even look at me, and the few who did merely smiled politely then quickly looked away. And it left me feeling so lonely and homesick, it felt like I had a vise shoved deep into my middle—one that was clamping down on my insides.

  Still, I kept moving, placing one foot in front of the other, ignoring my worst fears, while trying to stay hopeful and bright (or at least appear that way), and to just allow myself to see where it led. But deep down inside, I was anxious, nervous, and more than a little scared, and all I really wanted was to head home, slip into my PJs, and curl up on my bed with Buttercup by my side.

  The day I’d been dreading, the day my parents swore would open up a whole exciting new world, providing all of my favorite things, like art classes, and literature classes, and foreign language classes, and maybe even classes on singing, and acting, and dancing, and fashion design, and horseback riding too—the day that was supposed to make me forget all about my old life and happily embrace my new one—well, it was turning out just as I f
eared:

  It was awful.

  Nothing at all like they said it would be.

  And it was pretty dang clear that when it came to these sorts of things, they really didn’t have a clue. Nothing they’d promised could be found on the agenda—or at least not my agenda.

  From everything I’d witnessed so far, this school was chock-full of bizarre rituals and bizarre glowing people who said bizarre things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And any forced excitement that I may have started my day with, well, it was quickly snuffed out and completely obliterated by my absolute certainty that I didn’t fit in.

  Would never fit in.

  And most certainly and positively, did not belong Here.

  There had to be some other place better suited for me.

  And not only was I sure of it, but I was determined to do whatever it took to find it.

  5

  After everyone disappeared, and I mean seriously, just took off in what seemed like a gazillion different directions, I decided to take cheerleader girl’s advice and try to appear like a person who was just chilling. But the truth is, it was a total fake out. Because inside I felt all nervous and twitchy and more than a little humiliated to be standing there, all by myself, looking so lost and clueless like that.

  Like a complete and total failure on my first day of school.

  And I knew that anyone who saw me would agree it was true.

  I plopped myself down on an elaborately carved wooden bench, acting as though I was just minding my own business as I took in the water-spouting, stone cherubs that lined the fountain before me, when what I was really doing was trying to decipher just what that cheerleader girl meant when she claimed the right person would find me and show me the way.

  Did she mean like a guide?

  Like a counselor or guardian angel of some kind?

  And if so, was I supposed to do something to let them know I was Here? Ready, willing, and able to get this party started before I lost all my nerve and decided to head back home and never return?

  The crowd thinned around me as I chewed on my nails in a way that instantly downgraded my manicure from ragged to downright pitiful. Not stopping until my nails were bitten to the quick, the quad was completely cleared, and it was just me and him—the dorky guy who had sat in front of me at the assembly.

  The one who told me to Shhh!

  The one with the greasy, slicked-back hair and black nerd frames perched high on his nose, the glass of which was so thick and heavy it obscured his eyes to the point where I could barely even see them.

  The one with that deep, greenish glow who elicited a startling amount of catcalls and whistles as he made for the stage.

  Though the longer I studied him, the more convinced I became that that little fan club of his was meant to be more ironic than real. And when I took in his dork shoes and weird, dark suit with the white shirt and skinny black tie that made him look like he was either on his way to a nerd convention or a job interview with the CIA, I was sure.

  And all I could think as he stood there before me was:

  Great! My first day of middle school, and I’m left with Monsieur Dorky Guy.

  And a dead dork at that.

  Pretty much my biggest nightmare come true.

  Temporarily forgetting the fact that thoughts are energy—that they can be heard by everyone Here until he turned to me and said, “Dorky guy?” Balking in a way that made his eyes bug out so much they practically pressed against his lenses, gaping at me as though he’d never been called that before, which, sorry to say, I found very hard to believe. “Did you seriously just call me a dork?” he repeated, clearly offended.

  I stood there, lips screwed to the side, shoulders lifting in embarrassment, knowing there was no way to take it back, or at least not gracefully anyway. Deciding to just step up and own up when I said, “Well, maybe if you lost the suit and tie and ungreased your hair a little—you wouldn’t look quite so—er—” I paused, reluctant to use the offending word yet again even though it was clearly the only one that would fit.

  “Dorkish? Dork-like? Like the sole inhabitant of Dorkville?” He looked at me, brows merged, lips grim, and certainly not glowing like he did earlier. “Is that what you meant?”

  I shrugged, unsure where to take it from there, but looking right at him when I said, “Listen, I’m new, and this is all still a little confusing. Apparently I have some bad habits left over from the earth plane, and I haven’t learned how to guard my thoughts yet, or even if that’s actually possible. But the point is, I have no idea where I’m supposed to be, I just know I’m supposed to be somewhere. So, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna—”

  I started to leave, started to push past him, but he just appeared right before me again in all of his four-eyed, greasy-haired dorkitude. Arms crossed tightly, head tilted to the side, as he slowly looked me over and said, “As it just so happens, I know exactly where you should be. You need to be following me.”

  I rolled my eyes, sincerely doubting that. Besides, no way was I following him. He was too weird, too dorky, and too obviously offended by the fact that I’d called him that. Standing my ground, I watched as he headed for this huge, all-glass pavilion. Taking the steep set of stairs in a handful of steps, just assuming I’d follow, which, eventually, left with no better options, I’m ashamed to admit, but I did.

  “Hey—um—” I squinted at the back of his head, having no idea what to call him, but pretty sure that dorky guy was off-limits from this point on. “What is this place?” I asked, dreading the embarrassment of showing up late for my very first class where I’d instantly be pegged as the clueless new girl for the rest of the year. “Seriously, where are you taking me?” I called, staring at his retreating back, seeing how he was pretty tall for his age, which I figured to be somewhere around fourteen even though he dressed more like somebody’s dad.

  Following him around a corner and stopping just short of bumping right into him when he paused before a large, smoked-glass door, opened it wide, and said, “They’re all inside. Waiting for you.”

  I glanced between him and the door, seeing him nod encouragingly as I poked my head in and peered around at a big empty room where absolutely no one was waiting for me or anyone else for that matter. My eyes adjusting to the light as I took in the large, raised stage partially hidden by heavy, red velvet drapes, and the rows of soft, cushy chairs that faced it. And even though the room seemed perfectly nice, and not at all threatening in any way, shape, or form, I couldn’t help but notice the awful feeling invading my middle, urging me to get the heck out of there, before it was too late.

  And just as I turned to ask if this was some kind of hoax, some kind of lame pick-on-the-new-girl hazing ritual, he pressed his hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me inside.

  Saying, “Good luck—you’re gonna need it!” as the door slammed shut behind me.

  6

  I reached for the handle, eager to get the heck out so I could track him down and really let him have it. And I’d almost succeeded, when someone called out from behind me and I turned, scowl planted firmly in place, dreading even a moment’s delay, only to find myself face-to-face with what I assumed to be an angel.

  An incredibly beautiful, glittering angel.

  The first one I’d seen since I’d arrived Here.

  “Riley?” She looked at me with eyes so kind, I immediately eased the frown from my face. “You are Riley Bloom, right?”

  I nodded. It was all I could do. I was so awed, so struck by her appearance, the way her long curly hair shimmered and shone, transforming from yellow to brown to black to red before starting the sequence all over again, while her skin did the same, converting from the palest white to the darkest ebony and everything else in between. And her gown, her beautiful, blue, sparkly gown, swished all around, gleaming in a way that made it look like it was woven from generous piles of stardust and long yards of lace. The only thing missing were wings, or if she had them, they wer
en’t quite visible to me.

  She smiled, beckoning for me to come closer, and I instantly followed without thinking twice. Because the truth is, she was so mesmerizing, so stunning, I just couldn’t refuse. Radiating a light so brilliant, so vibrant, so deep, so—purpley—it made cheerleader girl and dorky guy seem like burned-out bulbs in comparison. And though I was sure I’d never met her before, she somehow seemed strangely familiar. And the moment she smiled, her kind eyes studying mine, I knew why—she was like every fairy-tale princess come to life.

  “We’re so very glad to see you,” she said, hands folded before her.

  We?

  I blinked, once, twice, amazed to see the seats that had sat empty just a moment ago were now occupied by a small group of robe-clad people. But even though they glowed too, not one of them shined nearly as brightly as the beautiful angel before me.

  “I’m Aurora,” she said, and to be honest, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. If anyone could pull off a name like that, it was her. “And this here is Claude.” She motioned toward a guy with a long, dark ponytail that pretty much matched the long, scraggly beard that hung almost to his waist. “And Royce.” She nodded toward the guy next to Claude who, with his wavy brown hair, dark skin, and glinting green eyes, was definitely hot enough to be a major movie star back home on the earth plane. Samson was the guy sitting to his right, and honestly, he looked so old, he almost looked young again, like he’d come full circle or something, even though I know that doesn’t really make any sense. And next to Samson was Celia, who was so petite, she seemed almost like a person in miniature, and her creamy silk robe was covered in the most beautiful embroidery of bright blossoming flowers and long, spindly vines.

  But despite how kind, welcoming, and completely non-threatening they all seemed, despite how they glowed in varying shades ranging from Celia’s cornflower blue to Aurora’s vibrant purple, I still couldn’t ditch this increasingly uncomfortable feeling that lived inside me, though it’s not like I could place it either. Nor could I come up with one good reason for having it in the first place. All I knew, as I stood there before them, was that something was up.