The air caught in Aria’s chest, and she smiled so wide that the setting sun grew brighter.
Aria took the wings, and slipped the straps on.
They were nearly weightless, but as they settled on her shoulders and against her back, they changed. The wings became heavier, more substantial. And when she looked down at her shadow, there they were, but they were different. The flimsy translucent material was gone, replaced by something that glowed with bluish light. The wings now arched gracefully over her shoulders and ended near her palms in feathered tips.
They weren’t the stuff of costumes anymore.
They were real.
And they were Aria’s.
It was better than anything she could have hoped for. It was the best gift. The best good-bye.
“Thank you,” she said, still beaming.
“You’ve earned them,” said Mikayla.
A breeze blew through, and the silver charms on her bracelet jingled faintly, like wind chimes.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” said Mikayla.
Moments earlier, she would have said, “Me too,” but now, after everything she’d seen, she said, “Don’t worry. You’re going to be amazing. Trust me.”
“So will you,” Mikayla said.
Aria took a deep breath and looked down at her shadow. The wings shimmered and then extended, stretched like welcoming arms toward her.
“Okay,” she said to the angel’s shadow. “I’m ready.”
She tapped her shoe, and the shadow flared white.
Aria closed her eyes.
Endings are beginnings, she told herself.
And then she heard a flutter of wings, and stepped forward into the light.
The lobby was filled with people, some in white coats, moving briskly, and some in regular clothes, slumped in chairs. Aria scanned the crowd, but she didn’t see any smoke.
“Good afternoon,” said a woman behind the desk. “How can I help you?”
Aria approached the desk. “I’m just trying to find someone.”
“Who are you looking for?” asked the woman.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Aria brightly. “I haven’t found them yet.” The woman frowned, but before she could say anything, Aria smiled and added, “Don’t worry. I’ll know them when I see them.”
And with that she set off down the hall on the left.
She explored two floors in search of the smoke — scanning halls, peering through windows and around doors — until she stumbled upon a common room. Several children clustered around a TV, a few others sat around a table with a puzzle, but it was the boy by the window who caught her eye.
He was pale and blond and wreathed in smoke.
The dark plumes hung around him like a cloud as he stared out the window. But as Aria drew closer, she frowned.
His smoke was the wrong color. Aria was meant to find blue smoke. But the cloud circling the boy’s shoulders was a dark, bruised purple. Almost black.
He was definitely marked, but not for Aria.
“Henry,” said a voice, and the boy by the window looked up as a nurse carried a cup of water over to his wheelchair.
Aria wondered why Henry was here, and why he was shrouded in such a grim cloud. She looked around, searching for someone like her, maybe someone with a charm bracelet to match that particular shade of purple-black smoke. But no one stood out. In fact, Aria was the only person in the common room who didn’t look like she belonged there.
Until another girl came in. She was about Aria’s size, with warm, tan skin and rich, dark hair. But what caught Aria’s attention wasn’t the girl’s skin or her hair or the notebook she was clutching to her chest. It was the blue smoke swirling around her shoulders.
Smoke the exact same color as Aria’s bracelet.
The girl didn’t seem sick, not like the other kids in the common room. But that didn’t surprise Aria. After all, the smoke had nothing to do with sickness. It marked a person only if Aria could help them, and she couldn’t help sickness. She wasn’t a healer. (She didn’t even know if those existed.) Aria was just … Aria. And whatever was wrong with the blue smoke girl, Aria was pretty sure she wouldn’t figure it out by standing there. Plus she was beginning to feel awkward about staring. So she took a deep breath, walked up to the girl on the couch, and said hello.
Aria watched Caroline walk away from her. She didn’t understand what was going on. Who was Lily Pierce? And what had Caroline done to make her mad? Was the whole school really ignoring Caroline just because one girl told them to?
Her thoughts swirled like Caroline’s smoke. She looked down at her black laces. She wished they were still purple. She was sure she’d be able to think better if they were purple.
She tapped her shoe a few times. And then she got an idea.
Aria ducked into the bathroom. When she entered a stall, she saw a message scribbled on the wall:
Caroline Mason is a waste of space.
Something fluttered in Aria’s chest, a sensation she’d never felt before, and it took her a moment to realize what it was: anger. She brought her fingertips to the message, and it erased itself.
And then, Aria erased herself.
Aria didn’t like being invisible. It certainly came in handy, but it always left her feeling … less than real. Still, if she was going to help Caroline, she needed to understand exactly what was going on, and it seemed like the best way to do that was to watch what Caroline’s life was like without Aria in it.
Aria stepped out of the stall, and then she went in search of Caroline.
She caught sight of the blue smoke just as Caroline was reaching her last class, art. Aria slipped through the door behind her.
Caroline took her seat, and Aria stood beside her, hoping that even if she couldn’t see her there, Caroline might feel a little less alone.
“Good afternoon, class,” said the art teacher. “It’s such a lovely day. I thought we could go outside and draw.”
A murmur of approval ran through the room as he began to take roll. “All right,” he said when he was done. “The only one we’re missing is Lily.”
“I’m here, sir.”
Caroline stiffened in her seat, and Aria turned to see Lily Pierce standing in the doorway.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, waving a note.
Aria’s mouth hung open. Lily had black curls, and pale skin, and a dazzling smile. But it wasn’t any of those things that made Aria gape. No, it was something no one else seemed to notice. Something no one else could see.
Lily Pierce was surrounded by bright blue smoke.
VICTORIA SCHWAB is the acclaimed author of several novels for young adults and adults, including The Archived and Vicious. Everyday Angel is her first series for middle grade readers. Victoria lives in Nashville, but she can be found haunting Paris streets and trudging up English hillsides. Usually, she’s tucked in the corner of a coffee shop, dreaming up stories. Visit her online at www.victoriaschwab.com.
Also by Victoria Schwab
Everyday Angel #1: New Beginnings
Everyday Angel #2: Second Chances
Copyright © 2015 by Victoria Schwab
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First edition, January 2015
Cover photo by Michael Frost • Wings by Shane Rebenschied
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
e-ISBN 978-0-545-53056-9
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York,
NY 10012.
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