by Shel Delisle
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say. “Anyone would have done that.”
“I wasn’t going to walk in front of that truck.” Tara rolls her eyes.
Lacey laughs and holds out her hand to hoist Tara off the ground while Tara brushes some dirt and dried cut grass off the back of her shorts. My adrenaline surge disappears.
This isn’t wing-worthy.
My Mission is not complete. It involves Finn and the way Tara treats him. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Traffic clears and we race again, not stopping until we reach the parking lot. Out of breath, Lacey says, “Ready to get nicky?”
Huh?
Tara giggles. “I really need some clear lip gloss on discount. But I need to buy some school supplies too.”
“I need a bunch of stuff on discount.” Lacey says. “How about you, Grace?”
Discount sounds good to me. “I need a backpack. The briefcase is gruesome.”
They laugh and nod, and we cross the nearly empty parking lot through doors that whoosh open. Awesome. Magic doors. Inside CVS, glowy overhead lighting illuminates the shelves. The air is like angel’s breath—cool, dry and sweet-smelling. Soft sounds tinkle in the background. It’s so much more comfortable than the heavy air outside. The cosmetics section is at the front of the store.
“Meet you back here in a few,” Lacey says as she grabs Tara by the arm and pulls her away.
Tara giggles and gives me a little finger wave. “Backpacks are over there.”
I wave back. How cool that I have a minute to explore. I’m sure this store doesn’t have the same stuff as Perpetuity, our department store in Quadrant One of Celestial Heaven. Humans don’t exactly need halo-fitting services or new parts for scepters. It should be fascinating.
I wander around, absorbing all the rows and rows of stuff. Mesmerizing! Do humans really need or want all of this? At the end of one aisle is a box with a picture of a lady curled up in a Snuggie. The box has a bright orange and black As Seen on TV sticker.
That’s from Angel Stories. Then it snaps into place like a missing puzzle piece. The parts that didn’t make sense when I watched TV were to get humans to buy things. It was a pause in the story, which is weird. Totally weird.
I turn into the aisle by the Snuggie, checking out all the products. Diapers? I’m glad Celestial Beings never had to wear these. Tampons? I study the box. What is the purpose?
Then, one shelf up, a box snags my eye.
Oh.
My.
God.
Maxi pads have wings! I don’t even know what they are, and they have wings! I pick up the box. It reads: Provides Superior Protection.
Well, I guess so.
Deciding these could come in handy—and help me figure out a quicker way to my goal!—I tuck the box under my arm and head to back Cosmetics. Lacey and Tara aren’t back, so I lean against a glass-topped counter filled with boxes and bottles of perfume.
One’s called Heaven’s Scent? Another is White Shoulders? Near the edge, there’s a small silver bell and a sign that reads Ring for Assistance.
Rule #4. Watch for signs.
There’s no way this is a coincidence. I mean, I find a box with wings inside, see things with angelic names and then I’m given a direct message. Finally, Michael, something obvious! Without hesitation, I tap the top of the bell, wait a second or two and tap it three more times. C’mon, c’mon, I’m ringing.
A lady in a navy uniform waddles toward me. “I’m coming. Relax.” She doesn’t look especially virtuous to me. I know I need my wings to tell humans from Celestial Beings, but still, Aisha and Victor have… a certain quality.
This woman looks entirely human, and not in a good way.
She takes an elastic key chain from around her wrist and sticks it into the back of the case. Whatever she is, she’s not in a good mood. “You needed something?”
I was kinda hoping she’d point me in the right direction. “Can you tell me how they got their wings?” I hold up the box of pads.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Ms. Grumpy’s face turns practically purple.
“No, I… uh…”
Someone grabs my arm and I turn expecting to see Tara or Lacey, but Aisha is standing there. “Hey, girlfriend!” she says, a huge smile on her face.
Are we friends? It doesn’t seem that way.
Ms. Grumpy crosses her arms. “What’s the joke? Just get it over with so I can get back to work.” The CVS lady folds her arms across her chest.
I would never joke about wings.
Aisha grabs the box I’m holding up. “She has a funny sense of humor,” she says about me. “She’s not from around here.”
“That’s not too surprising. No one is,” Ms. Grumpy says. “If you girls are done, I’d like to get back to work.” She stalks off a lot quicker than she came.
“I thought she was a messenger.” I point to the sign. “I thought—”
“She’s human,” Aisha interrupts. “And this…” she snorts a laugh. “Forget it. I’ll explain later. We only have a minute. Tara and Lacey are—”
But I don’t get to hear what she was going to say because they both stroll up with devilish grins.
“Aisha!” Lacey grins broadly. “Getting nicky with us?”
Aisha smiles.
“It’s nicky time,” I say, trying to fit in.
Lacey flips her hair and says, “You’re pretty cool for someone from Wyoming.”
“Montana,” Tara reminds her.
“Whatever. It’s one of those big square states, right?” Lacey moves toward a display of mascara. She picks one up and slides it into her purse.
Holy Hot Rollers! They’re stealing?
I look around. Ms. Grumpy is nowhere to be seen. Tara lifts a tube of lip gloss and pockets it. Aisha is the farthest away from me and she’s just standing there. Doing nothing. Unbelievable. I have to stop this—it’s wrong.
I give an Aisha a what the hell look but can’t say anything. My mouth opens and closes like the door at the front of the store. She stares back and slowly, almost imperceptibly, shakes her head.
What kind of Angel is she?
Tara is reaching for an eye shadow and I charge in to stop her, but then my foot catches something solid. I trip and tumble headlong into the wall of cosmetics, sending nail polish, mascara, and powder in every direction. A small smile barely curls across Aisha’s lips as she watches me try to recover. It feels like she tripped me. Impossible. She’s standing fifteen feet away.
And now, here comes Ms. Grumpy. “I should have known it would be you!”
“I’m really sorry.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me. I pick up a nail file near my right hand and try to re-hang it but manage to knock three more things to the floor. “I… let me… help,” I stammer.
“I need your help like I need a hole in the head,” Ms. Grumpy says. “Why don’t you kids get out of here—now—before I call the police?”
My Mission is in a body, mind and spirit nose-dive. I scramble to get off the floor and we trot away from the trashed Cosmetics area. This time I don’t even stop to admire the doors as they whoosh open to let us escape.
In the parking lot, Lacey and Tara crack up. Lacey’s face turns red and she hangs her arms around my neck. “That,” she says between outbursts, “was the funniest thing ever.” She opens her purse and it’s crammed with an incredible amount of stuff. “And your diversion worked better than anything we’ve ever done before.”
“It looked like a hurricane hit the Cosmetic aisle,” Tara squeals and then giggles. “I’m going to call you Hurricane Grace.”
It makes me think of when The Big Kahuna said he needed to set a storm in motion. I wait for a bolt of lightning to hit us. Nothing. The sky is cloudless—no threats, not even on the horizon.
“That’s perfect.” Lacey cracks up all over again. “Did you get anything?”
I shake m
y head no. Stealing is wrong and I’d never, ever do it. Except, I guess I did steal some chicken from Finn’s plate at Wan’s. But that’s different. He wanted me to have it. I’m pretty sure Ms. Grumpy or Mr. CVS didn’t want us to have this.
“You gotta have a souvenir from that escapade,” Lacey says and hands me an item from her purse.
A small case of fake eyelashes sits in my palm. Like the humans wear on Unreal!, the show I watch with Mercy. They resemble mini-wings and I don’t want them, but I probably shouldn’t refuse them either.
Maybe Aisha could help me out here? That’s when I notice she’s vanished.
Of course she has. Miss Perfect wouldn’t want to be involved when the feathers hit the fan with Michael.
Chapter 11
Earth is a combination of light and dark and in-between shades of gray. At least that’s how Michelangelo explained it one time when I asked him what it was like here. After the incident at CVS, I made a list about my Mission. To test his theory.
LIGHT:
The Murphys are a nice family. I feel comfortable with them. So it’s not horrible to be on Earth.
Tara loaned me one of her old backpacks. No more briefcase! Hurray!
I eat lunch every day with my Assignment. I think they invited me because of the CVS incident. Like it was some kind of initiation. It’s progress!
Victor!
DARK:
Human school has way too much homework. Just one more way that it’s exactly like Angel School.
I’man accomplice to theft.
Aisha saw me screw up at CVS and explained the whole maxi-pads-have-wings thing. Now it’s completely mortifying to have to spend ANY time with her.
Cafeteria food. Especially pepperoni pizza.
SHADES OF GRAY:
I’ve got a pair of fake eyelashes.
Michael has only called once this week. Right after CVS.
Seems like the Human artist was correct-a-mundo.
The weirdest thing about what happened after CVS was the message on my cell. I expected Michael to be all Archangelic, but his voice on the message sounded weary. All he said was, “Grace I’m sure you’re aware you came very close to breaking rules today. Please focus on your homework.” No scolding about the theft. What’s up with that? And I’m not sure what rules he’s referring to—but at least I didn’t break them.
So, at lunch on Friday, I feel pretty good that I’ve managed to get through the week without another voicemail. Unfortunately I don’t feel as good about today’s meal. I have a piece of pepperoni pizza that needs to be buried. That’s how dead it looks. Even The Big Guy couldn’t resurrect it.
Lacey peels the foil from the top of her raspberry yogurt. “Tonight’s lookin’ good for an escapade!”
Tara grins. “What? Spill!”
“Mommy and Daddy are taking Ethan upstate for an evaluation. And they’re leaving the Hummer. And I know where they keep the spare key.” She fidgets in her seat, excited by the possibilities.
My Assignment’s grin wavers nervously. She stares into her container and stirs her lunch. “I don’t know, Lace. It scares me a little, y’know? What if something happened?”
“Nothing will happen.”
“You saw how my dad was about learning to change a tire.” Tara leans in, whispering, “If he finds out we drove around without our licenses…” She makes a slitting motion across her neck.
“Don’t go Girl Scout on me,” Lacey says. “The only reason I don’t have my license yet is they can’t ever seem to find time to take me. ‘We’re so sorry, Lacey.’ ‘We promise next week, Lacey.’ Then, next week comes and Ethan needs something else.”
“What if we were in an accident?”
“The Hummer’s like a tank—we wouldn’t get hurt. I doubt you could even hurt it.”
“We could hurt someone else,” I say.
Tara seems to be considering what I said. Maybe I’m on the right track.
Lacey scoffs. “That is not gonna happen. Stop worrying. You’re up for it, right, Grace?”
Before I can answer, Aisha plunks into the seat next to me. Oh, please, please don’t sit here. Shame and Despair. Or vice versa.
Aisha smiles wide at all of us. “Up for what, girlfriends?”
“Riding around in a Hummer. Tonight.”
“Cool. Sure,” Aisha answers, even though Lacey didn’t invite her. “You can pick me up at the front of the Enclave. You know where it is on Pines?”
Lacey nods. “There’s someone who’s not afraid of a little fun.” She stares at Tara, waiting for her answer.
Why does Aisha always show up at precisely the wrong moment? And which side is she on, anyway? Doves are from Heaven and pigeons from Hell. I mean, they both coo, right?
I wish I had my wings so I could freeze time and tell her off.
Then. It. Happens.
Tara’s spoon is poised right in front of her mouth. Lacey is still waiting for her to answer. Cool! I did that! She’s going to have to keep waiting until I get some answers of my own. “What in the name of all that is Holy are you doing?” I ask Aisha.
Aisha’s braids sway from side to side. “You know, Tara needs to be able to stand up to peer pressure.”
“She was. You weren’t here. She was about to say no until you came along and said, ‘sounds good.’”
“She still might say no. Keep the faith.”
I have a vision where I’m winged and they’re supremely large like Michael’s. I use one to swat Aisha on the side of her head. It’s not very angelic of me, but it’s satisfying. Instead, I just clasp my hands and grit my teeth. “But, she might say okay and I almost had her convinced.”
Aisha’s about to take a bite of her sandwich and then stops herself. It would cause dissonance—the eerie feeling Humans experience when Angels make a slight slip. She sets the sandwich back on her tray. “She needs to be able to say no without you. Like, after your Mission is complete and you’re gone. It’s not just about you. Get it?”
I don’t get it. “I’d like to do my Mission my way.” I tap the center of my chest, emphasizing the word my.
“Your way might not be best. When you stopped Tara at CVS, they might have been caught. Getting caught might be exactly what your Assignment needs. It could have meant a speedy end to your Mission.”
“It could have?”
Aisha shrugs. All nonchalant.
“Is there some way to flip us back in time?”
Aisha stares at me with her parakeet-colored eyes. “Have you been reading your materials?”
Confession: Not since the night I talked to Victor. But I answer, “Yes,” and unfreeze time so I don’t have to talk to her anymore. At least, not about Missions and strategy and angelic homework. I’ll still need to make small talk, because there’s absolutely no chance that Aisha is leaving in the middle of lunch.
When time speeds up—or we slow down—Tara swallows a spoonful of yogurt.
“Well?” Lacey asks.
“All right,” Tara says, and I scowl at Aisha.
Lacey smirks, flips her hair back on both sides. “Seven-thirty. Your driveway. Be there.”
}{
The bathroom is crowded. Tara peeks over my shoulder while I lean over the sink, trying to line up the fake eyelashes. My wildly curly hair is completely straight. Tara flat-ironed it for me, and it only took about three hours to achieve this glamorous look.
Finn hovers near my thigh, rapt, as he watches my every move: too much glue, the cockeyed lashes. Finally, one adheres to the edge of my lid. The second lash is much easier to apply. Tara insisted I wear them, insisted they’d make me look “hot.” I guess that’s a good thing, and, anyway, I’m trying to earn her trust.
Confession: Tara’s right. They do look great.
My eyelids feel heavy and I blink—once, twice—slowly. It’s like my eyes have wings.
Finn removes his thumb from his mouth long enough to say, “Grace is pretty
—like an angel.” Then he sticks it back in.
My secret! I make a zip-lip motion at him. “Thanks, Finn.”
“Angels are boring. She’s gorgeous. Those lashes make your eyes look crazy.” Tara huffs at her brother as she brushes by him, ignoring his longing expression. Her cell phone buzzes and she reads a text message. “That’s Lacey. C’mon.”
Moments later we climb into the Hummer. Tara’s in the front seat; I’m in the back
Lacey jerks the car into reverse and we take off with a jackrabbit start, jumpy and fast. The Enclave is only a short way—thank Dad—from the Murphys’ house. The neat, uniform condos, which stretch on seemingly forever, remind me of the housing for Guardians and Virtues in Quadrant Two.
Is this where all the Full Angels live? Are there that many on Assignment?
Aisha stands by the guard booth and as we cruise up. She waves, jogs over and hops into the backseat. Lacey makes a sloppy U-turn and takes off. The car lurches into traffic and zigzags from lane to lane.
Pop! An explosion pop startles me. The car fishtails, swerving into the next lane.
Maybe this is it. Maybe Lacey’s going to kill us. Is this how my Mission ends? Would Tara go to Heaven? I think so. And if she dies, do I still get my wings? Probably not. Michael will get really pissy if my assignment croaks.
Then, nothing happens. Amen.
Lacey, trembling, pulls the car off Pines Boulevard. The back right corner of the Hummer dips as we edge on to the shoulder. Nerves tattered, I hop out. Lacey beats me to the problem.
She takes one look at the rear tire with a hole the size of a grapefruit, shredded rubber at its edges. “Merde, merde, merde, merde, merde!”
Apparently Lacey takes French.
I freeze time.
“Why did you do that?” Aisha asks. “You can’t use that now.”
This occurred to me as soon as Aisha said it, but it still ruffles the feathers on my non-existent wings to have her point it out.
“Just give me a minute so I can think.” I bite my lip and wonder if this is a coincidence or some kind of freaky divine intervention. “I know what to do,” I tell her and set things in motion again.