by Quinn Loftis
Emma stared at the brick building across the street from her. The weathered sign in front bore blue paint that was covered in orange rust. The words ‘Landry Elementary School’ could scarcely be read through the ionized stains that had run down the front of the pitiful marquee. Like a forgotten relic, it rested unsteadily in front of the equally unsteady building, both of which appeared as though they were merely waiting for their chance to crumble into the rich black soil upon which they stood. The sign welcomed no one but resounded a cry of weariness and grief to anyone unfortunate enough to happen by or, worse, actually pass the sign on their way into the building. The casual observer could only assume that Landry Elementary School allocated all of its resources to the education of its students, because it did not appear to place any value in the appearance of its facilities. Unfortunately, only half of that observation would be accurate. It seemed to Emma that as long as the building wasn’t imploding in on itself, the administrators considered that a victory, and she wasn’t far from the truth.
“That is where you are going to go to school?” Raphael asked. “Is it even safe to step inside?”
“Let’s try and see the bright side, Rafe. Maybe they put all of their money into good curriculum and don’t have anything left over for the outside upkeep,” she offered.
“Perhaps I’ll just check the integrity of the building before you enter.”
Before Emma could respond Raphael was gone. A few minutes later she felt a huge shudder as the ground beneath her quaked and the trees and buildings trembled.
When he reappeared, Emma looked up at him. “Was that you?”
He gave a single nod. “I see that the structure is still standing. That’s a good sign. I only hope my little test didn’t push the pitiful excuse for a building over the edge.”
“Maybe you should refrain from causing mini earthquakes just to check the structural integrity of a building while people are inside of it,” Emma said as she watched the kids getting out of cars or busses and entering the school.
Raphael patted her shoulder. Emma figured that either meant, ‘Sure I won’t do that again’, or ‘Aren’t you cute? You think you can advise an angel.’
“Shall we?” he asked as he gave her a gentle push.
“Do I have a choice?” Emma asked.
“You always have a choice, Emma,” Raphael said in his calm way. “The question is, will you make the right choice?”
Emma looked for cars before she began walking across the street. Her eyes were glued to the door as she tried not to be self-conscious. She knew that not everyone was staring at her, no matter how much it felt like it. Instead of focusing on the feeling of being a bug under a microscope, she replayed the morning’s events in her mind.
She’d awoken before Mr. Jones, for which she was very glad. There hadn’t been anything for breakfast, so Raphael had taken her to a donut shop on their way to school. She didn’t ask how he got the money or how he knew where to take her. She just trusted him. It was easier to just trust him rather than wonder about something that didn’t really matter. She had enough to worry about.
The door squeaked as she opened it, pulling her from her thoughts and back into the present. Emma rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans and swallowed down the chocolate-covered doughnuts that were threatening to make a reappearance. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been through this already once before.
She saw the sign for the office and headed in that direction. When she reached the desk, she stood there waiting until the woman on the other side looked up.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked. She had brown hair twisted up in the back and a pair of glasses that kept sliding down her nose that she continually pushed back up. Her eyes were a bright green and kind looking. Emma liked her immediately. There was something good in her.
“I’m Emma Jean Whitmore. Today is my first day.”
The woman smiled, and it lit up her whole face. “Hi, Emma! It’s so nice to meet you. Do you have a parent with you?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. Just me.”
“Okay then,” she said as her eyes softened, and her smiled drooped just a little. “One second.” The woman turned to her computer and began punching keys. “Aha, Emma Whitmore, I’ve got you right here,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Rose, and any time you need anything, you just come and find me. Your teacher is Mrs. Sunders. She’s in room 115.”
Mrs. Rose stood and pointed to the left. “Just follow that hall. Her room is the last door on the right.”
“Thank you,” Emma said, smiling up at the kind woman.
“You are very welcome, Ms. Emma. You have a good first day, sweetheart.”
Emma turned and followed the direction Mrs. Rose had indicated. Raphael walked quietly beside her, and since no one was screaming, ‘Look, an angel’, she deduced he must be hiding himself from everyone but her. The halls were crowded as kids made their way to their classrooms. There were shouts of hello from some and high fives from others. Teachers stood in their doorways ushering kids into their respective classrooms and correcting those who were fooling around. It seemed just like the other elementary schools Emma had attended. And yet something was different.
“Do you feel that?” she asked Raphael. She figured since no one knew her yet, it wouldn’t be a big deal if they thought she talked to herself.
“Mm-hmm.” Raphael huffed. “It is dark and bleak.”
“What is causing it?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Be careful, little one, who you trust this day.”
“Got no plans to go putting my trust in perfect strangers, Rafe. I’ve learned the hard way that trust is just a five-letter word for ‘if it’s convenient for me.’”
“Did your mother tell you that?”
She smiled. “Nope. That one is all me.”
Emma paused in front of Room 115. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “You got this, Emma Jean,” she told herself. “Just be kind and smile.”
Raphael chuckled. “Done with your pep talk?”
Before she could answer, a short, older woman, who looked more like a grandmother than a teacher, stepped out of the classroom. “Hello!” she said as she grinned. “I’m Mrs. Sunders. Are you in my class?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Emma answered. “I’m Emma Jean Whitmore.”
Mrs. Sunders reached out and wrapped Emma in a firm embrace. “I am so glad to have you in my class. I had a visitor tell me that I would have a special young lady starting school this semester, and here you are.”
Emma pulled back and looked up at the woman with wide eyes. Had the Sandman been to see Mrs. Sunders in her dream? Wouldn’t he have mentioned it?
“There are times he cannot share his assignments,” Raphael said, as if he’d read her thoughts.
“Go on in and take a seat, Emma,” Mrs. Sunders said after letting go of the girl. “We have lots of learning to do today.” Her smile was infectious, and Emma couldn’t help but return it.
She walked into the classroom and saw other kids that had already arrived. Some looked at her, while others were preoccupied with retrieving items from their backpacks. Emma took one of the seats in the front. She enjoyed school and didn’t want to be distracted by anyone who would be playing around. She knew she would get labeled a nerd or goody-two-shoes, but as her mama always said, ‘Impressing others shouldn’t be your goal in life, Emma Jean. Being kind and loving others, that’s a worthy goal to reach for.’ Emma’s chest tightened at the thought of her mama and all her wisdom. She missed her so very much. She missed her daddy, as well, but she and her mother had had a special bond. And now that bond had been shattered by her untimely death. All Emma could do now was remember the things her mama had taught her and never forget the memories she had of her family.
“I will be at the back of the room, Emma,” Raphael told her. She gave a brief nod so he knew she’d heard him. And then he was no longer standing beside her.
Emma felt exposed, as if Raphael, even in his invisible state, had kept her cloaked from anything and everything that could hurt her, not that there was truly any danger in a classroom full of fourth graders. Well, to a student anyway. The fourth-grade teachers might not agree.
The final bell rang and Mrs. Sunders came into the classroom, closing the door behind her. She walked over to her desk, picked up a piece of paper, and began to take the roll call. Each student announced their presence as his or her name was called. After she had called everyone’s name except Emma’s, she looked up and smiled at the class.
“We have a new student to add to our roll call.” Mrs. Sunders held up a hand and motioned in Emma’s direction. “Emma Whitmore, is joining us. Emma, I won’t make you stand up or do anything embarrassing, but I wanted everyone to know your name and be able to give you a warm hello.”
Emma nodded and gave a small wave to the class. It wouldn’t have bothered her to stand up and say anything to the class, but she was thankful, nonetheless, that she didn’t have to. With how things had been going, she wouldn’t put it past herself to blurt out something like ‘don’t you people know your school is full of demons’. She didn’t imagine that would win her any popularity points.
The rest of the morning was spent listening to the teacher explain what the semester would be like, what they would be studying, and how excited she was to have them all in her class. Emma figured out pretty quickly that it didn’t take much to excite Mrs. Sunders.
“Can I sit here?” Emma recognized the blonde girl who sat next to her in class. Lunch had finally come around, and everyone was finding their place in the cafeteria. Emma knew this ritual would determine where students sat for the rest of the semester.
“Sure,” Emma answered.
“I’m Callie,” the girl said as she opened her worn-looking lunch bag.
“I’m Emma,” she responded.
“So, you’re new?” Callie asked.
Emma nodded. “Just moved here last week.”
“Where do you live?”
Emma wasn’t real sure how to answer that. She didn’t want to refer to Mr. Jones as her grandfather, but she didn’t necessarily want to shout out that she was a foster kid either. “I’m staying with a friend of my family for a while,” she told the girl, hoping that she’d just leave it at that.
They ate their lunch in companionable silence, only talking when they had a question. Raphael sat next to her, and Emma had to keep from laughing at the huge angel trying to fit himself at the small table.
“Things seem to be going well,” he said, looking around the cafeteria full of chattering kids. Emma nodded as subtly as she could.
When lunch was over, they filed back into the classroom and resumed their lessons with Mrs. Sunders. It wasn’t until an hour before it was time to leave that things got weird. The door to the classroom opened, and a tall man, with a hawk-like nose and striking black eyes, walked in.
“Hello, Principal Flannigan,” Mrs. Sunders said with a bright smile that was not returned.
He looked out over the classroom, and his eyes eventually landed on Emma. She immediately felt Raphael’s presence, as he was no longer standing at the back of the room but right next to her desk. To her surprise, the principle’s eyes flicked up to where Raphael was standing. Can this man see, Raphael? The way Principal Flannigan narrowed his eyes gave her the answer. Emma’s breath left her lungs as she thought about the implications of this strange man’s presence. How and why could he see her angel?
“I was just coming by to check on our new student and make sure she was feeling welcomed,” the principal said. His voice sounded cordial enough, but the narrowed eyes and unsettling gleam in them made Emma squirm in her seat.
“She’s fitting right in,” Mrs. Sunders said with a tense smile. “We were just beginning our math lesson, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” he said. “Forgive my interruption.” He apologized, though he didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
Raphael placed a hand on her shoulder, reminding her of his presence. “There is something not right about him,” Raphael said quietly.
Principal Flannigan’s head snapped to the side as if he’d heard Raphael speak. Emma felt chills running across her skin, and the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped significantly. She looked around to see if any of the other students noticed the difference and saw that some were putting their jackets on. When she looked back to the front of the room, the principal was leaving, but his gaze never left hers until the door closed behind him, blocking his view.
“Never find yourself alone with that man,” Raphael warned.
“Like I needed to be told that,” Emma muttered under her breath. She noticed that as soon as the principal left, the temperature returned to normal.
Up until that point, Emma had actually thought that maybe the only difficulties she would be facing were Mr. Jones and the ragamuffins he brought home. Apparently she was wrong, very, very wrong.
“Aunt Darla, do you believe in the devil?” Serenity asked as she sat in the hospital bed staring down at her hands. They hadn’t stopped shaking since the nightmare. Dair had stayed with her the rest of the night, and she’d been able to sleep peacefully with a dream crafted just for her. He’d been with her up until a few minutes ago. Before he left, he’d kissed her on the forehead and told her he’d be back as soon as he could. Serenity didn’t know if that meant later that day or in a few days. He seemed preoccupied, and she hadn’t wanted to question him.
“Well, I believe in God, so I most definitely believe in Lucifer. God is, after all, the one who created all things, even the devil. Of course, He did not create him as the devil. Lucifer snatched that title all on his own. That’s what pride does to us, Sarah Serenity. It raises us up to a position we think we deserve and then kicks us on the ass when we fall from the height we weren’t meant to be at in the first place.”
Serenity laughed. “Glad you aren’t holding anything back.”
Darla shrugged. She was flitting about the room tidying various things that were in no need whatsoever of cleanup. Serenity was used to her aunt’s constant movement. She watched her without really seeing her as she considered the older woman’s words.
“Why do you ask?” Darla questioned.
Serenity took a deep breath and decided to bite the bullet. She hadn’t discussed with Dair whether or not she should tell her aunt and uncle about him, but she didn’t want to keep it from them, not when they’d done so much for her. “What if I told you I believed in the … supernatural. More specifically, that I believe in a being called the Sandman?”
Darla paused and turned to look at her. “I guess I’d have to ask what caused this belief.”
“I’ve met him,” she said. “I know him,” Serenity added quickly.
Darla turned her attention fully to Serenity and folded her arms across her chest. “Uh-huh. Go on.”
“It’s Dair, Aunt Darla. Dair is the Sandman.”
Darla just stood, her mouth slightly open, staring back at her niece. Serenity wasn’t sure if maybe she was sort of frozen after the revelation or if she was trying to decide if she should call the doctor to get her niece taken off the pain meds.
“Huh,” Darla finally muttered. “That clears up quite a bit.”
“Wait. What?” Serenity asked as she pushed herself gingerly. “What does it clear up?”
“Oh, you know. Just everything,” Darla said as she waved a hand absently in the air and went back to straightening stuff that was no longer crooked.
“Noooo,” Serenity said, drawing out the word. “I don’t know. What is just everything? Did you know Dair was the Sandman?”
Aunt Darla shot her a look. “Of course I didn’t know. I just figured he was something not normal. Kind of like Raphael being an angel.”
Serenity coughed. “What? Y-you knew he was an angel?”
“Honey, I know an angel when I see one. I’ve told you that before.�
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“I just thought you meant, you know, awe isn’t he an angel.” Serenity cooed, making her voice all sweet as if talking about a baby. “That sort of thing.”
Darla shook her head. “Sometimes that is what I mean. But in Raphael’s case, I don’t think the cooing is necessary. So…” She placed her hands on her hips. “Dair is the … Sandman?”
Serenity nodded.
“What’s that like?” Darla’s brow drew together. “Does he go around the whole world every night like Santa Clause, creating everyone’s dreams?”
“No, his job isn’t at all what the myth suggests,” Serenity answered. And then she went on to explain about Brudair and the purpose of his creation. When Serenity was done, Darla’s face had gone from curious to determined.
“So that means little Emma is going to change the course of history. And you’ve already changed some of it because you put your life in front of Emma’s. We have to get her back. We need to protect her,” Darla said as she began to pace the room.
“Dair and Raphael are keeping an eye on her. They’ll keep her safe until we can get her back,” Serenity assured her aunt, who looked more focused than ever.
After several minutes of silence, Darla took a chair and pulled it up close to Serenity’s bed. She watched as her aunt seemed to come to some conclusion as to what she wanted to say or, perhaps, how she wanted to say it. “You’ve never really dated,” Darla said. “And the guy you finally pick is a supernatural being, the Sandman. You do realize that everyone after him is going to seem pretty boring, right? I mean, you’ve sort of ruined yourself for any other man for the rest of…” She paused and then finally said, “Well, ever.”
Serenity laughed. “After everything I’ve just told you, that’s what you want to talk about?”
Darla shrugged. “I want to talk about it all.” She sounded giddy as she rubbed her hands together. “I’ve never gotten to do the whole boyfriend thing with you. Does he make butterflies in your tummy begin their mating dances?”
“What!” Serenity shrieked as she grabbed her stomach from the pain of the laughter. “Since when do butterflies have a mating dance? And why on earth would they be doing it in my stomach?”
