by Annie Dalton
“What’s this place?” I whispered. “I mean, is it like some special angel hang-out?”
Lola stared at me. “Oh, you’re good!” she said slowly.
I felt my cheeks getting hot. “Did I say something stupid again?”
“I’m serious,” she said. “You really pick up on vibes, don’t you? I mean, apart from the Agency building, the Sanctuary has to have the most angel vibes in this entire city.”
“But what are they all doing in there?”
“It’s a kind of hospital,” Lola said. “The guys who work in there specialise in angel healing arts.”
I was just going to ask why in the world angels would need to go to hospital, when a sensation of utter horror flashed through me. It was so strong, I literally doubled up.
Lola shivered. “They must be bringing some agents back.”
As we stood there, hypnotised, beams of white light came strobing down from the sky. The instant the light-beams touched down, hosts of heavenly paramedic types stepped out. The Sanctuary angels came hurrying to meet them, and both sets of angels started ferrying fleets of gauzy stretchers into the sanctuary.
From the smooth way they conducted this operation, I got the feeling this was not an unusual event. Everyone knew the drill. No-one ran. No-one yelled. Everyone was totally calm. Yet there was an electric urgency that you could almost taste.
“If I didn’t know this was Heaven, I’d think they’d been airlifted out of a war zone or something,” I whispered.
Lola looked as sick as I felt. “You’d be right. They just came back from Earth.”
I forced myself to look at the wounded agents being carried past us. It’s not easy to describe, but they all had this identical look. Some of them had terrible injuries, but from my new angel perspective, I somehow knew that these visible injuries weren’t the point. The true damage was deep down. It showed in their eyes and skin, but most of all it showed in their deadly stillness. It was like all their wonderful angel radiance had been drained out of them.
Suddenly Michael was coming towards us through the crowd.
“Lola, Melanie,” he said quietly. “You should get back to school.”
One of the sanctuary staff came out to meet him. They disappeared inside, looking deadly serious.
I realised Orlando was standing next to me. I must have looked like I was in total shock, because he said, “Are you OK?”
“I don’t get it,” I whispered. “Aren’t we immortal now? I mean, how come people can still hurt us like this?”
Looking back, I can see that Orlando really didn’t want to be the one to break this to me. His expression was so grim that I started shivering, even before he said the words.
“Those agents weren’t hurt by humans, Mel.”
I was bewildered. “Then who?”
He sighed. “Their name varies according to time and place. We generally refer to them as the Opposition.”
Such a neutral word, but it shook me to the core.
Until that moment, I’d been living inside some rosy bubble, where angels automatically lived happily and stylishly ever after.
Now the dream was over.
Chapter Six
If there was a dance called the Melanie Beeby, it would go like this. One step forward, two steps back. One step forward, two steps back…
It’s not that I forgot the scene outside the Sanctuary when I got back. It’s more that it really scared the sassafras out of me. So I told myself I totally didn’t need to know about any gruesome old Opposition. It was one of those grown-up things, like the ozone layer, which needn’t concern me.
Next day we started school, and I had more important stuff to think about. Mr Allbright might look sweet and fuzzy, but that guy doesn’t let you get away with a thing.
I know what you’re thinking. Melanie Beeby hitting the books - this is a joke, right? But for your information, I had totally turned over a new leaf. To be honest, it was mostly down to Mr Allbright. He’s a completely brilliant teacher.
In our science class he showed us some cool little atoms grooving away, as if life was one big cosmic party. He said the point of showing us these little guys was so we’d know that absolutely everything in the universe is alive.
“What, even stones?” I said wittily
“I’m glad you said that, Melanie,” Mr Allbright beamed, and before you could say “Big-mouth-Beeby,” he’d dragged the whole class down to the beach.
“I want each of you to choose a pebble,” he said excitedly. “And tune into its wavelength.”
Oh, perleaze, I thought.
But as it turned out I had to eat my words. My pebble was SO deep and philosophical, it was unbelievable!
Luckily stones aren’t all that interested in chatting, so Mr Allbright said I totally didn’t need to feel bad about ignoring them up until now.
Incidentally, the history club was a complete non-event. Flora and Ferdy were members for one thing. More annoyingly, Orlando didn’t turn up. I’d made up my mind to be v. unimpressed the next time I saw him. (I’d been practising for DAYS.)
Also Lola must have got it wrong, because time-travel simply didn’t come up. All that happened was that some guy from the Agency gave us a long lecture about team work (yawn yawn yawn). Then he handed round a humungous book list and said they’d be in touch.
I checked a couple of the books out of the library (Lola made me) but I was too fed up to read them. (Well, I never said I was a total goody-goody!)
I couldn’t face the Angel Handbook either, even though Mr Allbright insisted it was essential reading. I got as far as Chapter 1: FINDING YOUR FEET IN HEAVEN. Then I came over really dizzy and put it back on the shelf.
That was the day I found out we weren’t allowed to take even an occasional sicky. Angels never get sick, apparently. This is probably good news for humans. But it made me feel totally trapped. How was a girl supposed to get some rest?
Luckily, according to the timetable, Wednesday afternoon was our Private Study period. I couldn’t wait. Finally, some chill-out time with my best friend, Lola.
But when I knocked on her door, Lola was on her way out. “Sorry, Boo. I do singing on Wednesdays,” she said. (I have NO idea why she calls me Boo. Lola is always inventing weird nicknames for everyone.)
“Oh, poor you,” I said, assuming Lola had been roped in for some kind of holy hymn singing. Then I did a truly noble deed. “I’ll come with you, if you like,” I suggested. “You know, just this once.”
But Lola explained that Private Study meant you had to go off and do something by yourself. It sounded pointless to me. Why do something by yourself if you can do it with your mates?
I’d hate to give you the wrong idea, though. My new life might be confusing, but it had some excellent moments.
For instance, I’d been dreading the martial arts class. I’ve always been hopeless at PE. The first session was just a joke. Every time I staggered back on to my feet, another kid knocked me flat.
Just as I was in danger of becoming one big purple bruise, Mr Allbright told us we were going to work in pairs. I’d been praying I’d get Lola for my partner. So I was not amused when Mr Allbright paired me with Reuben, the kid who was dripping sea-water in assembly, if you remember.
“Why are we putting ourselves through this?” I grumbled. “I thought angels were supposed to be gentle and holy and stuff.”
Reuben gave a snort of laughter. “You’re kidding! If we let ourselves get soft, the Opposition would have us totally overrun.”
That chilling word again. I quickly told myself I hadn’t heard it.
“They used to teach us to fight with swords, way back,” Reuben explained cheerfully. “I’m talking thousands and thousands of years ago. But these days the Agency prefers us to learn angel martial arts.”
“And that’s another thing,” I growled. “I don’t understand how Time works anymore.”
“That’s because it doesn’t,” said Reuben with a grin. “Cosmic
Time isn’t something that works. It’s something you play with. We play with Time in martial arts constantly.”
I pulled a face. “Uh-uh, that’s way too deep. Translate into bimbo-speak, please!”
Reuben shook his head, grinning. “I see your little game, Beeby. Ten out of ten for the distraction technique. Now, no more questions! Not until after the class, anyway.”
To my surprise, Reuben turned out to be a wicked martial arts teacher. He didn’t mind how often he demonstrated a move. And he never once made me feel stupid. In fact he praised every tiny little improvement, until I almost started to believe I could do this stuff.
Suddenly, to my astonishment, I was flying through the air like a Ninja angel. Wow, I thought, this is so cool. Then I landed smack on my bum.
Reuben helped me up. “Isn’t this great!” he said beaming. “You’re learning to trust those angel vibes.”
“I am?” I said doubtfully. It seemed like a complete accident to me.
“Sure you are,” he said confidently. “You stopped being scared, and you just flew, right?”
I mentally replayed what had just happened. “Hey!” I said, giggling. “You’re right!”
And for five whole seconds, I was really thrilled with myself.
Then Reuben launched himself into a sequence of gravity-defying moves. Gradually, other kids joined in, including Flora and Ferdy. Soon there was this amazing martial arts dance going on. They did some moves in such dreamy slow motion, it really did look as if they’d actually stopped Time.
So that’s what Reuben meant, I thought.
It was pure magic. Amber and Lola clapped and whooped with excitement.
Then all at once I felt unbelievably depressed. “I’ll never be that good,” I said gloomily.
Reuben flipped himself the right way up. “Give yourself a chance! Besides, think of all that stuff you do without even thinking. Stuff which is like -impossible for me.”
“Yeah, right,” I said bitterly. “Just think.”
But Reuben was serious. He was genuinely desperate for help, only he was too embarrassed to ask.
We found out quite by accident a few days later.
Reuben, Lola and me were relaxing near our favourite fountain, when a bunch of nursery-school kids skipped past looking totally angelic.
It suddenly hit me. They were angels. Tiny little angels.
“That’s awful!” I gasped. “They must have died when they were little dots!”
“Not necessarily,” said Reuben. “Some angels never incarnate. Like me for instance.” He flushed and looked away.
“Um, is that a bad thing?” I asked cautiously.
“Incarnating is when you put on a human body,” Lola explained. “It’s what you have to do to live on Earth. But little Sweetpea here never got to make the trip.”
I was amazed. “You never left Heaven?”
Reuben sighed. “Don’t rub it in. It’s been like, my big dream ever since I can remember.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “You never even had a peek at Earth?”
Reuben looked wistful. “Not close-up. I’ve done Angel Watch in practicals.”
“So how come you never went?” I persisted.
“The Agency won’t let me,” said Reuben. “Not until I pass my Earth Skills paper. Unfortunately I just failed retakes. Again.”
I can be really slow on the uptake but quite suddenly I got it. Reuben must be a totally different kind of angel to me and Lola!
“Lollie, you never told me there were two kinds of angels!” I grumbled.
“There are about a gazillion kinds actually,” said Reuben. “But yeah, basically they divide into human-angels and pure angel-angels.”
And in that moment I absolutely knew that Orlando was an angel-angel. Plus I had suspicions about Flora and Ferdy.
“That explains your eyes!” I said without thinking.
Reuben looked offended. “Are you saying I’ve got weird eyes?”
“Not weird,” I said hastily. “They’re kind of…”
“Pure,” suggested Lola wickedly.
Reuben scowled. “Isn’t that just another way of saying weird?”
“My sunrise angels weren’t weird,” I said. “Stars aren’t weird. Nor is a snowflake, or - a tiny new born baby.”
“Exactly,” said Lola. “They’re pure!” She grinned at Reuben. “Like you, my little Sweetpea!”
“So how does it work, being an angel-angel?” I asked Reuben with interest. “I mean, did you start out as a tiny cherub and grow up? Or is it that you just look like a typical thirteen year old, but you’re actually totally ancient inside?”
“Poor Melanie, that old T-word has you all confused,” Reuben teased.
“Don’t tell me, I know,” I sighed. “Time doesn’t really exist in Heaven, wah wah wah.”
“Oh, it exists! It just behaves totally differently.” Reuben gave me a sheepish grin. “I’ve never quite got my head around the Earth kind, to be honest. But isn’t it something like - there’s never ever enough of it to do the things you want to do? And once you make a mistake, that’s it. You’re stuck with it for ever?”
Lola nodded.
“I suppose,” I agreed.
“Well, Cosmic Time is different. It isn’t this irresistible force you’re constantly wrestling with. It’s more like this - this never-ending playground, where you can have all the Time you need. You can grow up fast or slow, backtrack a bit, make a few corrections. Whatever!”
“Actually, Cosmic Time is quite cool,” Lola admitted.
I clutched my head. “Sorry, this is all way too weird for me.”
“Now you know how I feel about Earth Skills,” said Reuben gloomily.
Out of the blue I had a brilliant idea. “Reubs!” I squeaked. “You helped me with martial arts. Why don’t I help you with your Earth Skills? You’ll help too, won’t you, Lollie?”
I truly thought Reuben was going to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you mean it!” he kept saying. “I’ve been feeling like such a loser!”
But by the end of Reuben’s first lesson, Lola and I were practically tearing our hair out. It wasn’t that Reuben was dim. Actually I think he was some kind of angel genius. He just could not get the hang of the most elementary Earth concepts. Things like bank accounts or bombing foreign countries to make them toe the line totally mystified him. “But what is war for?” he kept wailing.
“It’s not for anything, Sweetpea,” Lola sighed. “It just is.”
“Let’s leave war out of it for now,” I suggested. “I just got some music from home. Let’s have a little bop instead.”
Reuben had never heard Earth music before. “They really play this stuff on Earth?” he said amazed.
“In my time, yeah,” I said. “In Mum’s time—”
“Don’t get back on to Time,” Reuben shuddered. “I’m still recovering from war.”
What with one thing and another, the days were whizzing by. Mostly I was really happy. Other days I’d find myself missing things from my old life. Bizarre, silly things, like hitting the late-night garage for emergency M&Ms!
But no matter how good or bad things were, I could NOT figure out what I was meant to be doing on Private Study afternoons.
To begin with, I used it to catch up on those girly chores. Hair, nails, that kind of thing. But I noticed that the others came back, kind of glowing.
The whole thing started to drive me nuts. I felt like the only person in the school who wasn’t in on some big secret. Clearly Private Study was not for doing regular school work. It was also not the same as free time. So what WAS it?
Without actually mentioning the mysterious glow-factor, I cunningly quizzed the others about what they did on their Wednesday afternoons.
Reuben practised martial arts. No surprises there. Amber said she played her musical instrument (the harp, presumably). Flora and Ferdy said they did angel mathematics. Yeah, right!
This sounds really patheti
c, but I totally started dreading Wednesdays.
“Is everything OK, Melanie?” Mr Allbright asked, finding me brushing tiny grains of sand off the hammocks, as I put off going back to my room for as long as possible.
“Oh, I’m fine, Mr Allbright,” I said brightly. “I’m really settling in.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell a high being like Mr Allbright that I was so totally shallow, that I couldn’t stand my own company for one measly afternoon a week.
When I got back to the dorm, I decided to wash my hair. It didn’t need it. I just wanted to kill some time. But as I flipped the little doodad on the shampoo bottle, Miss Rowntree’s voice started up inside my head. “There’s more to life than makeovers, Melanie,” she sneered.
I’m not sure there is, I thought miserably. Not for me.
I was in trouble and I didn’t know what to do.
“Help,” I whispered. “I need help.” I didn’t really think anyone was listening. But they must have been. Because a few minutes later, help came.
For no apparent reason, I suddenly got this violent urge to go to the beach. It was totally weird. One minute I’m fretting about Private Study, the next my head is full of waves and sea-sounds. It was like this irresistible call.
Yet again I found myself splitting into several Melanies. One is saying, “What are you ON, Mel?” Another is whispering, “Come to the seashore, NOW!”
I grabbed my jacket and rushed out. I stormed along, telling myself I wasn’t in jail. I was perfectly free to walk down to the beach if I wanted to.
Sure, if it was actually your idea, bird-brain, the regular Mel pointed out.
But once I was sniffing that warm salty breeze, all the Mels magically calmed down.
This was so not like me, you can’t imagine! The old Mel never did stuff by herself. Yet here I was, walking by the edge of the water, squidging damp sand between my toes.
I’ve always loved the sea, ever since Mum took me on a day-trip when I was three years old. The instant we got out of the bus, something inside me went, “YES!”
I loved everything. The glitter of light on the waves, the salty breeze, the screams of huge sea-birds. And all that SPACE!
Suddenly, the memory that had almost surfaced that morning in Guru came floating into my head.
