by Shel Delisle
Grace Lightbourne
Angel in Training
PS. Have you and Faith made up yet? I hope so! Reconciliation is awesome and even though you were sticking up for me, she was partially right. But only partially.
Chapter 21
Time flies when I’m not freezing it.
Except Aisha keeps reminding me we don’t really freeze it. “The Earth and everything on it keeps moving at its same speed, we just move closer to the speed of light.”
It’s a lot of scientific mumbo-jumbo if you ask me. I’m sure Mercy, with all her Virtue training, would get it. But it still feels like a time freeze and the point is, I haven’t done it at all for the past couple weeks as we accelerate toward Spirit Week. Busy, busy. Today is float-building.
When Mr. Murphy pulls in front of Lacey’s house, her circular driveway is filled with cars parked every which way.
“It looks like you’re late,” Mr. Murphy says a split second before Victor and Cody emerge from the garage. Shirtless. Victor is wearing my favorite jeans and Cody has on aqua and orange board shorts.
“I hope they’re not sleeping over,” Mr. Murphy deadpans.
“Dad! I told you. We’re building the float and then hanging out, and then the girls can stay over if they want.” Tara slips her backpack over her shoulder and opens the car door.
Victor strides toward the car, Cody trailing slightly behind him. “It’s about time!” He holds a hammer overhead, which makes his arms look, well, nice.
Tara grins at me and raises one eyebrow.
“Have fun,” Mr. Murphy says and then adds out his window to our backs, “and be good.”
Tara gives him a we’ll-be-fine wave, and Victor jogs over to his window and rests his hands on the car roof.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir. I’m Victor Angelo.” He actually shakes Mr. Murphy’s hand.
“Oh! So you’re Victor! That was quite a game last week. You really pulled it out in the end with that pass.”
“Thank you, sir, but the whole team played well.”
Why is it that human guys and Angel guys are so obsessed with sports?
Tara, Cody and I leave Victor to discuss the finer points and walk to the super-sized garage, where there are a half-dozen people at work on the frame of the float. Most of them are shirtless guys. All of them—unless you count Victor, who’s walking this way—are sweaty. Lacey is leaning against the fridge, sipping a Propel, dressed in a tank and short shorts. “C’mon.” She waves us toward the house. “It’s hotter than hell out here.”
The angel-breath AC hits us as soon as Lacey opens the door. Her house is incredible. The ceilings are two stories high, with drapes that hang to the floor. An elaborate design in tumbled marble accents the foyer. A polished wooden staircase curves off to the left of the entrance. Everything overlooks a huge patio with a pool, spa and lake.
It’s not as grand as the Hall of Records or the Temple, but comes close.
“I can’t believe your parents let you have everyone over when they’re not here,” Tara says.
“It’s all in the timing.” Lacey does the hair-flip thing. “When they tell me they have to do something with Ethan and then put on droopy faces, I put on the same face and ask for something. Clothes. A favor. Whatever. It works every time.”
Near the base of the stairs are glass shelves filled with framed pictures. I stop to study them. Almost every picture has Lacey’s brother Ethan. One has the whole family, but the way Lacey’s standing makes her look separate. I can tell from the innocent expression on her brother’s broad face, from the almond shape of his eyes, from the course black hair so different from Lacey’s silky blond that this family has been blessed.
“Is this Ethan?” I ask.
Lacey purses her lips. “The one and only.”
“He’s a Special Soul,” I say.
Lacey grits her teeth and one lip curls, reminding me of a growling dog. “Special?” she says in the most sarcastic tone ever. “What does that mean?”
“Pure,” I say, incredulous that she doesn’t recognize this.
“Pure?” She snorts. “Is that what they call it in Montana? We call it something different here—mentally deficient.” Lacey sneers as she says those words.
In Understanding Humans, Sophia says that it’s important not to reveal a Truth until the subject is open to it. So right now, I should bite my tongue because Lacey isn’t in the right frame of mind. But I can’t help myself and blurt, “You know, the Knowledge Apple is what caused all the problems in the first place.”
This cracks Lacey up. After she finishes with a hiccup, she says, “I’ve got to get to Montana someday to see if everyone is like you.” She leads Tara and me upstairs to her room. It’s so large we could practically build the float in there.
“I love this room,” I say.
A soft pink quilt with these fuzzy powder puffs covers her double bed, and all the other sheets and pillows have this pattern of interlocking dots and circles in shades of pink and purple.
When and if I get back to Heaven, I’m going to do this. On a smaller scale of course. But it’s a room that suits both Mercy and me.
“It’s sweet of you to say that, Grace. I’m kinda sick of it, and my mom said I could re-decorate. So if you want, I could ship this stuff to you when you get home.”
“Thanks.” Although I’m quite sure When-it-absolutely-positively-has-to-be-there-overnight doesn’t have coverage where I live.
Lacey points to a corner where she wants us to stash our backpacks. As I set mine down, a gray tabby kitten with black stripes pokes its teeny nose out from under her bed, batting a paw left and right like it’s trying to make sure the ground is solid enough to venture out.
“That’s Mr. Toughie,” Lacey says. “He’s Ethan’s.”
Awwww. My heart melts.
He peers out and spies Tara and me. “Crap,” he says in a deep, scratchy voice. “Not more people!” And with that, he ducks back under the bed.
His name is perfect! I crack up. Tara and Lacey stare, stare, stare hard.
“He said…”
And then I remember: People can’t communicate with animals. It blew me away when I read that in Understanding Humans. I always assumed they could. It’s weird the way you can get something in your mind, and then it’s hard to get it out and you have to be reminded again and again.
Lacey snorts. “Wow. Too weird. Ethan thinks Mr. Toughie talks and he laughs at him just like that.”
Do I need to cover? Tara and Lacey aren’t staring at me or anything. I guess it doesn’t matter. Much. I guess they’ve accepted me.
But how weird is it that Ethan can hear Mr. Toughie? Really weird, I know. And then, it dawns on me. In the Garden of Eden, everything could communicate. Probably still can if you could get in. Except, it’s totally off-limits for humans and Angels. Anyway, speaking with animals is just one more thing that went away with the apple.
}{
There’s a mountain of yellow tissue paper flowers beside me. I have a stack of flat sheets in front of me and pull off three or four. Fold, flip, fold, flip in what Tara called accordion-style. Twist; tie the middle. Fluff. I toss the newly made flower to the pile. Everyone’s working inside, except our team’s Michelangelo, Madison, who’s sketching hall designs.
My shoulders and neck stiffen. I roll my head from side to side and get off the floor to loosen up. Then, I pick up my pile of flowers.
Lacey says to the group, “Almost time for Peppermint Patties and Brain Erasers. We’ve earned it.”
A horrified look flits across Aisha’s face. What’s wrong? And she’s been so mellow until now; I almost enjoy having her around. I wander away to let her deal with her crisis-du-jour and when I pass the shelves with all the pictures, I notice Ethan’s are now missing—every single one. In a weird way, this piece of furniture looks lonely with all those gaps where Ethan belongs.
Out in the garage, the float is coming together. The f
ront is Dorothy’s Kansas farmhouse with a twister behind it. When I walk around and look from the other direction, it’s the beginning of the Yellow Brick Road, which leads to the Emerald City. The back of the twister from this angle is the Wizard’s castle. Cool. Madison must have a really awesome Muse.
“Here’s some of the road.” I drop the tissue flowers onto the floor of the garage at the feet of Cody and Tara—our official flower-attachers. They nod at me without missing a beat. “Oh! Lacey said it’s almost time for Peppermint Patties—just so you guys know.”
They exchange a quick grin, stop working and head for the house. Victor’s eyes widen, his hammer hovers above his head and he moans, “Time to go to work.”
}{
Inside, Lacey has this tray with cute teeny, tiny glasses and everyone is crowded around her. “These are the Peppermint Patties—” she points to a milky tan glass, “—and these are the Brain Erasers.” She points to a drink with layers. I reach for a Peppermint Patty and Aisha swats my hand.
“No, Grace,” she mouths.
Then time freezes. Lacey looks regally sculpted with the tray in front of her. Some kids are frozen, hands out, mid-reach for the drinks. Others already have their head thrown back.
“I didn’t freeze it. I swear,” I say to Aisha.
Aisha just sighs. “Good thinking,” she says to Victor. “Now, how do we stop this without violating free will?”
He scratches his temple. “Distractions always work.”
Aisha smirks. “What are you going to do? Set a fire?”
“Nothing destructive. The lesser of two evils?” It’s a statement and a question at the same time. “I’ll create a diversion, and you get rid of the alcohol.”
Huh? I yell, “Hold on a minute! Will someone tell me what is going on?”
Aisha shakes her head and sighs. “They’re drinking alcohol. They’re underage. It’s illegal and someone could get in trouble, or hurt.”
“Not every time,” Victor explains.
“But they could.” Aisha finishes the sentence for him. “Okay—motion.” The scene unfreezes, and the sound of laughter fills the air. Victor claps his hands three times and says in a booming voice, “Team Oz. It’s time for a game.”
Aisha grabs the tray from Lacey. “Give me that, girlfriend,” and scurries toward the kitchen.
“Hey! Where are you going with that?” Lacey follows a step or two behind Aisha.
“Don’t want anything to happen to this floor. Your parents would be pissed,” Aisha yells over her shoulder.
Everyone else has gathered around Victor and he says, “What are we gonna play?”
There are shouts of football and groans, Truth or Dare? and shrieks, Spin the Bottle and giggling.
Finally, Tara hollers, “Seven Minutes in Heaven.”
I don’t know about everyone else, but the other options sounded like a lot more fun.
“Dorky,” comes a reply.
“So middle school!” another shouts.
“Yeah. But fun, right?” Tara giggles then blushes crimson at least three shades darker than her hair, her eyes glued on Cody.
Victor laughs and declares, “Ding. Ding. Ding. We have a winner!” and everyone laughs.
I don’t get it. Seriously. I’ve spent more than seven minutes in Heaven and I can tell you it’s not a big deal.
Everyone is shifting around in an awkward way. Cody and Tara won’t take their eyes off each other until Victor volunteers. “I’ll go first. Grace, would you like to join me?”
I shrug. “Okay.” It’s their party and I get that this is part of my Guardian duty, but even if Victor and I pop back home for a few, how will the other kids get there? We could kill them, but that doesn’t seem very Guardian-like.
Victor takes my hand and leads me to a large closet near the front door.
Ah-ha! A portal. But that doesn’t make sense either, because when I arrived I was at the River of Grass Rec Center, and why would a portal be placed in Lacey’s entryway?
Victor opens the door, a slight smirk on his face. “After you.” He places his palm on the small of my back. We step in, he closes the door and the darkness engulfs us. Except for a dull sliver at the bottom of the door, there’s no light at all. It’s warm and musty. There’s a faint outline of Victor. Close. It’s more that I sense him than actually see him.
“I could extend the seven minutes.” There’s a tease in his voice.
“When do we get to Heaven?” I ask.
Victor rests his palm on the side of my neck. It’s comforting. So why is my heart beating faster?
“Rules for Angels are so hard sometimes, especially for Guardians when we’re away from home.” Victor’s hand glides on my neck. “You remind me of someone.”
Cherish? Does he still miss her?
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I say.
Victor’s hand stops. “Yeah. I think that scares me.”
My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I have a better sense of where he is now. Even though I can’t see his face, I can tell his form is easing toward me. Suddenly, it’s even warmer. He’s very close and I want him closer. He exhales; I inhale. This game is not exactly what I thought. Victor places his hand on my waist and pulls me against him.
The door flies open.
Bright light streams in and I shield my eyes from the glare—both the light and Aisha’s. Aisha flaps her arms around and stuffs her hands onto her hips. “You know better! No hanky-panky!”
Behind her, everyone is frozen. A few statues seem to stare at the door. Victor’s face is red. “Hanky-panky is so last century, Ish. You need to keep up with the times.” Victor pulls against the door, but Aisha stubbornly wedges her foot and holds it open.
“Doesn’t matter what it’s called. It’s still off-limits. Didn’t you learn from the last time? How long was that Probation?”
Victor tips his chin up. “It was worth every second.”
Aisha practically growls. “She’s trying to earn her wings.” Then, Aisha looks at me with soft eyes. “Grace,” she sighs. “You know better too.”
I’m not sure if she means Cherish or the whole forbidden thing. Victor’s face is close; his hands are still wrapped around me. It feels right. And wrong.
Confession: While a part of me is glad she came to the rescue, another part just wants to close the door.
}{
I tiptoe through the bodies sprawled across the floor. There’s a pile of tissue paper flowers by the far wall and a few of those tiny glasses scattered around the room. We didn’t stop all of it. Next to the kitchen, Lacey lays in the exact same position as last night when she fell asleep. I put my hand in front of her mouth. Her breath is warm and it’s good she’s alive. At least Aisha is doing something right.
Tara and Cody are covered in separate blankets over by the TV. They didn’t drink anything. A small victory? I think so.
We all worked on the float until the wee hours. Then Victor and I kept talking—on guard duty—until they both fell asleep. I’m pretty sure nothing “forbidden” went on, either, unless you count their Seven Minutes in Heaven, when Tara’s hair got very mussed. She didn’t even try to smooth it out. Weird. Just kept tugging on the bottom of her tank top.
In the kitchen I pour myself a glass of orange juice and when I open the French doors to the patio, the gray kitten skitters past me and bounds outside.
“I don’t know if you’re supposed to be out here,” I say to him.
“Can you get me some water, hon?” His deep, scratchy voice doesn’t fit the sweet face. “My bowl’s inside and it’s empty.”
“In a minute?” I settle myself at on the edge of the elevated spa, dip my toes in the water and sip my OJ.
“Yeah,” he growls. “But don’t wait too long. Last time I was this thirsty, I tried to drink from the big white bowl and fell in.”
What a wise guy! I get up and go back to the kitchen, fill his water bowl and return t
o the peaceful patio with it. Mr. Toughie is on top of the table about to lick the inside of a kitten-sized glass that looks like it’s coated with Peppermint Patty. I snatch it away with the same quick motion Aisha used last night.
Mr. Toughie bats a paw at the glass. “Killjoy!”
I place the bowl on the ground and he leaps off the table with only a slight skid upon landing. He’ll be totally graceful when he’s fully grown.
I sit back on the spa bench and watch as he bats a stray tissue flower through the legs of the lounge chairs, amusing himself. He loses interest quickly and pads over my way. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”
Mr. Toughie really didn’t need to point that out to me. I’m fully aware that I belong to neither world right now. Not Earth—where I’ll work, and my nature will keep me separate from those that surround me. Not in Heaven, either. Even when I get my wings—if I get my wings—I’ll still be coming back here.
The tabby begins to stalk a tissue flower, prowling around it, hunching his shoulders. “She’s planning something big.” His gruff voice belongs to a much bigger cat. Or maybe a dog. Truly.
“Who?” I ask.
“Blondie,” he replies. And then, he pounces.
Chapter 22
On the Saturday before Spirit Week, Lacey, Tara and I sprawl out on the floor of the Social Studies Hall over huge sheets of cardboard printed to look like The Yellow Brick Road. It’s just a bunch of interlocking rectangles.
Thank you. I probably can’t screw that up.
Victor and Aisha are down at the end of the hall, hoisting an Emerald City display into place. Lacey and Tara are chatting while they paint, but it’s hard for me to concentrate because I’m bi-located for the first time since the pep rally. With Aisha’s Guardian Seal of Approval, of course.
An announcement crackles over the PA and everyone stops working to listen. “Remember, tonight is Spirit Week Family Night. Bring everyone out to view the halls, while judging takes place from six to eight.”
Lacey smirks and dips her brush into the can of gold paint to fill in her section of the road. When she whispers, “Listen girls. I have a new idea,” I stop painting and focus.