The girls exchanged a wide-eyed look.
In the lounge Mr. Eagleton was already sitting at the table staring at nothing. Nicola pulled out the chair next to him. June Bug jumped up and wagged at Mr. Eagleton, who turned his head with underwater slowness and looked at the dog and smiled.
Nicola told Jared to bring Mrs. Cream over. She wheeled Miss Higgins.
Meanwhile, Lindsay turned off the TV.
All at once they could hear it, the faint wine-glass ringing they’d heard the day June Bug put on her show for everybody.
The first amazing thing happened then, though Jared didn’t realize it. He sat at the table with the others, his toque pulled low over his eyes, breathing through his mouth, unaware that Miss Higgins had never in any of their visits so much as lifted her chin off her chest.
She did now. The ringing had woken her. First her head, covered in fine white hair, floated up like a dandelion gone to seed. Then her eyes opened. They were hazel and circled with silver.
“What’s that?” she asked.
Jorie was just coming back with a pitcher filled with water and a plastic mixing bowl for the chips. She stopped.
“Miss Higgins? Did you say something?”
“I asked about that sound. I hear it now and then. It’s louder now.”
“It’s the other patients,” Jorie said. “They hum. Isn’t it lovely? But, Miss Higgins? I’m quite flabbergasted that you’re talking like this.”
Nicola took the pack of cards out of her pocket and asked Jared to shuffle. Then she headed for the nursing station. She didn’t look back to see if Jorie was watching. She simply walked behind the desk, opened the cupboard and took what she needed.
When she did look back, Jorie was arranging Lindsay’s flowers. June Bug was sitting with everyone at the table Waving her paw, hoping for one of the potato chips Lindsay was pouring into the bowl.
Nicola skated as fast as she could in her socks down the slippery hall to Mr. Fitzpatrick’s room. She had just slid the key in the lock when someone at the far end of the hall called out.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
A cold feeling washed over Nicola, a clammy feeling, like just before you throw up. She hated that feeling, knowing when it was over you’d feel so much better, but still dreading what was going to happen.
Slowly, she turned her head.
There was Mr. Devon in his black suit and smoky glasses, striding toward her, the odor of cigarette smoke growing stronger, competing with the flowery smell. Strangely, though, he seemed to become smaller and more ordinary as he drew near.
Then he was standing in front of her, not a big hulking creature with horns, just a man. He was shorter than her father, his face sour and pinched. His eyes, as far as she could see through the tinted lenses of his glasses, weren’t red, but brown.
“You heard me,” he said in a nasal voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re having a party. Everyone’s invited. Even you.”
“A party?”
“I know,” Nicola said. “Parties aren’t allowed. Why do you have so many awful rules?”
“I don’t make them. I’m only running the place. And on a very tight budget. There’s no money for parties.”
“Okay. But why can’t people bring flowers? Or food?”
“Like I said, my employer’s in charge.”
“Why is Mr. Fitzpatrick locked in?” Nicola asked. “And Mrs. Michaels and Mrs. Tanaka?”
“You’ll have to take that question to my employer. Now— ”
“Who is your employer, Mr. Devon?” Nicola asked.
Mr. Devon seemed to freeze for a moment. Then he exploded.
“Leave! All of you!”
Nicola pushed Mr. Fitzpatrick’s door wide open. Mr. Devon scrambled to close it, allowing Nicola to skate ahead, unlock and fling open Mrs. Michaels’ door. Mr. Devon rushed to close that one, too. By then Nicola had opened Mrs. Tanaka’s door.
She burst past Mr. Devon, calling behind her, “Come to the party! Everyone’s invited!”
In the lounge, Jared was dealing cards while Jorie hovered, wringing her chapped hands.
“There’s a rule against games,” she said.
Nicola slipped onto her chair beside June Bug. Mr. Eagleton looked down at the two angels on bicycles on the cards that landed in front of him. He smiled in slow motion.
“What’s that smell?” Miss Higgins asked.
“It’s the flowers, dear.” Jorie pointed to the bouquet in the middle of the table, between the chips and the radio. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
“It’s not the flowers,” Nicola said. “It’s the other patients.”
Jorie stared and pressed her heart.
“Play with us, Jorie,” Lindsay begged. “It’ll be fun. I’ll put on some music.”
“Music!” Jorie yelped. She sank onto a chair, looking dazed. “Mr. Devon will be here any second.”
“He’s on his way,” Nicola said.
Maybe the amazing thing that happened next wouldn’t have happened if Lindsay hadn’t turned on the Golden Oldies station. Maybe if a different old song had come on the radio. Maybe if the old people and Jorie, who all knew the words to the song, too, hadn’t started singing. But that was impossible because it was one of those catchy songs impossible not to sing along to.
The song was about a teenaged girl killed in a tragic car accident. Her boyfriend was calling out to her, calling her an angel.
Everyone started singing the angel chorus, even Mr. Eagleton.
Jared was still unamazed. He didn’t know that Mr. Eagleton barely spoke and that Mrs. Cream’s vocabulary normally consisted of a single nonsense word. He mimed a finger down his throat to show how he felt about the song, though a second later even his lips were moving with the words.
“Jorie!” came a booming, nasal voice. Jorie started fanning her face wildly with her cards even as she was singing “Teen Angel” with the others.
Black-suited Mr. Devon bore down on the table.
Singing! Music! Potato chips! Games!
“Where are the keys, Jorie?” he roared. “They aren’t in the cupboard.”
Jorie looked up at him in terror and bewilderment.
Jared was unamazed by the sudden appearance of Mr. Devon. He didn’t know about the manager of Shady Oaks. He went right on playing, asking Miss Higgins, “What’s your name again?”
“Higgins.”
“Okay. Miss Higgins? Your deal. Should I shuffle for you?”
“That would be lovely.”
Mr. Devon reached out and snapped off the radio, but the old dears went on singing. Singing about angels and true love. Lindsay giggled nervously.
Mr. Devon slammed his fist on the table. “No laughing!”
“Whoa,” Jared said, shuffling. “What’s your problem?”
With a crabbed hand, Miss Higgins accepted the deck of cards Jared slid over to her. “It’s getting louder.”
She meant the wine-glass hum. When Mr. Devon realized it, he swung around.
June Bug, whose hearing and sense of smell were so much more powerful, had already jumped off her chair. She was creeping toward the hall.
Nicola and Lindsay went after the dog. Jorie and Mr. Devon followed.
Jared called, “Are we playing or not?” Then he got up, too.
Three doors stood open. Three fragile figures had emerged and were wriggling inside their too-large robes like caterpillars struggling in their cocoons. The hall vibrated with their clear, high ringing. The beautiful scent of flowers filled the air.
June Bug’s ears flattened against her head. She cast her black eyes down and curtsied.
Tiny Mrs. Michaels’ pink robe fell around her feet first. Next Mr. Fitzpatrick freed himself of his. Then Mrs. Tanaka.
By then the hall had filled with a strange light. It radiated off the three sets of wings unfurling and stretching out, rippling colors, an aurora borealis strobing across the walls.
And then there were no wings. Only light.
All of this Jared saw and, like his sister and her friend Lindsay and her dog, like Jorie and maybe even Mr. Devon, the most beautiful, peaceful feeling came over him.
He was amazed.
28
—
What must have happened was this.
The whole neighborhood — Nicola’s house and the Sheldon Arms Apartments, Feeler’s Flowers, Shady Oaks Retirement Home and Queen Elizabeth Elementary School —
Tuesday, the day after the angels escaped, the picture of the queen in the front entrance of Queen Elizabeth Elementary was hanging properly on its nail, the crown perched evenly on Her Majesty’s head.
Everyone felt it. The kids milling in the schoolyard at recess could even see it. On the other side of the yellow caution tape, the playground equipment stood on level ground.
At first only Nicola Bream and Lindsay Feeler dared to duck under the tape. They were less nervous about breaking rules, having recently had so much practice at it. They felt like zoo animals, stared at from the outside as they swung wildly on the swings.
One by one, the others slipped under and joined them. All except Gavin Heinrichs, who flung himself at the tape like a runner crossing the finish line, and broke it.
The girls might have got in trouble, except this happened the very day Mrs. Dicky returned from her sick leave. Appalled that nothing had been done about the equipment while she was away, she called the school board. The inspector came, and the next day confirmed what they knew anyway. The playground was perfectly safe.
Something else was different, too. The birds returned. It really seemed that one day there were none and the next, on every branch you saw a cheery cardinal or a twittering waxwing. They arranged themselves like red and yellow decorations, singing out their hearts.
The birds returned because of the change in the weather, or so everyone said. Finally, the cold snap broke and overnight the temperature rose enough that hats and scarves no longer seemed a matter of life or death. This gave everyone hope that one day the snow would melt and the earth would come alive again, like it did every year. The snowdrops and crocuses would nudge their noses out of the earth, and spring would come bursting in.
“Listen to this,” Terence said on Saturday morning while he and Mina sat at the table drinking coffee, Mina working on the crossword puzzle, Terence reading the paper.
“The practice of sedating troublesome elderly patients in care facilities has become common in the region.”
“What’s sedating?” Nicola asked from where she sat on the floor eating cereal with June Bug. One spoon for Nicola, one for June Bug. Her parents wouldn’t notice. They loved the weekend paper.
“Giving sleeping medication,” Mina answered.
“The government has started a task force to look into the practice, which is called snowing.”
“Snowing?” Nicola said. And she shivered.
Mina looked up from her puzzle. “Oh, Nicola! Weren’t you telling me something about that?”
* * *
To: Nicola Bream and Lindsay Feeler
From: Patient Quality Care Office
Dear Ms. Bream and Ms. Feeler,
Thank you for your letter concerning Shady Oaks Retirement Home. I am writing to inform you that Shady Oaks was recently closed due to the overwhelming number of complaints we received from staff and visitors to the facility. Numerous health violations were of special concern. Please be assured that the remaining patients have been resettled and are now receiving excellent care.
Nicola and Lindsay took this letter as a good sign. But not everything was a sign. They’d figured that out walking the bicycles home from Shady Oaks that amazing afternoon.
The bicycles had turned out not to be needed.
Because who needs wheels when you have wings?
* * *
The following Monday, Ms. Phibbs opened her desk drawer and found it completely stuffed with flower petals.
A silence fell over the class. There was only one person who could get hold of that many flower petals in winter. Still, breath held, they all watched to see what Ms. Phibbs would do next.
Ms. Phibbs bowed forward until her forehead touched her desk. Her shoulders began to shake. Nicola thought she must be crying. When she straightened, there were even tears in her eyes.
She was laughing.
Ms. Phibbs wiped her face with a tissue she pulled from her sleeve.
“I believe Mrs. Dicky arranged to have the gymnastics equipment set up. Please, everybody. Put on your gym shoes.”
* * *
Just before Valentine’s Day, the two friends and June Bug sat on the steps of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. The church stood about halfway between the high school and the address of a certain person with three initals.
While they were waiting, they played ABC Gum World, sticking the little pink and purple angels on the railing higher than June Bug could jump. June Bug loved chewing gum.
Nicola only half-expected Julie to come. She mostly hoped. She hoped and Lindsay piped up, “Is that her?”
“Yes!”
Along came Julie, hair perfectly combed, jeans pressed. She was daubing gloss on her lips as she walked so didn’t see Nicola and Lindsay and June Bug on the church steps until Nicola called out, “Hi, Julie!”
Julie stopped and blinked, not recognizing Nicola. When June Bug dashed over, straining the leash and wagging, Julie stepped back and flapped her hands in fright.
“Don’t worry,” Nicola said. “She’s friendly.”
Nicola took the treat container out of her pocket and shook it. June Bug stopped trying to jump on Julie. She snapped to attention.
“Wave at Julie,” Nicola told June Bug. “Wave.”
June Bug Waved.
“Oh, that is sooooo cute!” Julie squealed.
“That’s nothing,” Lindsay said. “You should see what else she can do.”
Nicola held up her palm. “Give Me Five, June Bug!”
June Bug did.
“Oh! She’s adorable! She seemed so wild the last time I saw her,” Julie said. “I’m afraid of dogs.”
“She was just a puppy then.”
“She’s soooo cute!”
“Do you want to come over and see the rest of her tricks? We have to do them inside. She won’t Roll Over or Crawl in the snow. It’s too cold.”
Julie hesitated.
“Wipe Your Nose, June Bug,” Nicola said.
June Bug Wiped Her Nose and Lindsay shrieked, “I’ve never seen that before!”
Julie Walters-Chen got out her cellphone and called her mother to say that she was just dropping by Jared Bream’s house to see all the tricks he’d taught his dog.
“You remember Jared? In my English class? Anyway, he’s got the cutest dog,” Julie told her mother.
All the way home, June Bug walked, not pulling the leash at all, or having to be pulled.
She simply trotted along in front, her stubby white tail in the air.
A perfect angel.
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Groundwood Books, established in 1978, is dedicated to the production of children's books for all ages, including fiction, picture books and non-fiction. We publish in Canada, the United States and Latin America. Our books aim to be of the highest possible quality in both language and illustration. Our primary focus has been on works by Canadians, though we sometimes also buy outstanding books from other countries.
Many of our books tell the stories of people whose voices a
re not always heard in this age of global publishing by media conglomerates. Books by the First Peoples of this hemisphere have always been a special interest, as have those of others who through circumstance have been marginalized and whose contribution to our society is not always visible. Since 1998 we have been publishing works by people of Latin American origin living in the Americas both in English and in Spanish under our Libros Tigrillo imprint.
We believe that by reflecting intensely individual experiences, our books are of universal interest. The fact that our authors are published around the world attests to this and to their quality. Even more important, our books are read and loved by children all over the globe.
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