Shane turned onto his stomach, scratched his head and yawned. He mumbled grumpily and pulled his pillow over his head.
David put his hands on his hips. He was becoming annoyed with his little brother, a feeling he knew well. ‘Hey! Wake up, butt brain!’ he called. It wasn’t the sort of thing an angel should say but he knew Shane didn’t like being called butt brain. It had always made him angry.
Shane’s pillow started to move. Like a timid snail checking the weather outside its shell, Shane’s head slowly slid from beneath his pillow. His heavy eyelids opened and closed slowly. He looked like a turtle. He had noticed light, unfamiliar light. It wasn’t like the bathroom light or the hall light. It was soft and silvery. He pushed at his covers and began to unwrap himself. He kicked, he rolled, he wriggled. Eventually, he lifted himself to a half sitting position and leant on his elbows. With a crinkled face and straining eyes, he looked at David.
‘Hi there, Shaney boy!’
The shock almost took Shane’s breath away. He saw David standing at the foot of his bed in jeans, a t-shirt and old sneakers. His arms were folded and he was glowing all over like a new silver coin.
David spun himself round. ‘It’s me,’ he grinned proudly. ‘I’m back. How do I look?’
Shane sat bolt upright. His tongue quivered inside his gaping mouth. A noise came out, a choking noise. His eyes were popping out of his head almost as far as Webster’s.
David’s silvery glow had filled the room with frightening shadows that stretched up the walls and onto the ceiling. They were surrounding Shane, looming over him threateningly. David just kept grinning. Shane just kept shaking. More gurgling noises bubbled from his throat.
‘You don’t have to be scared, Shane,’ said David. ‘I’m not a ghost; I’m an angel.’
Shane shook his head vigorously, like a dog shaking itself after a bath. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again quickly, hoping the vision would float away like steam in a cool breeze. But no, David was still there, grinning. Shane pushed himself up the bed until he hit the wall at the bed head. He couldn’t go any further but he kept pushing. He pushed with his feet, his outstretched fingers, his whole body. He hoped he’d wake up soon. He’d wake up and David would fade away. David would disappear and he’d think, ‘Whoa! What a wicked dream.’
Shane clutched at his sheets like a rock climber clutches a cliff face and his heart pounded its way uncomfortably up his throat. He swallowed. ‘Go away, you’re not real’, said the voice inside his head. ‘Go away, leave me alone. Get out of my head! Get out of my dreams! Get out of my room!’
David thumped his chest. ‘I’m real, Shane, sort of. I am here. I’m back!’
Shane shook his head from side to side and tried not to look at the glowing vision of his brother. ‘You’re not real, you’re not.’
David leant forward. ‘Oh yes I am.’
‘No you’re not. You’re some kind of dream or something. You died a year ago. You got really sick and you died.’ Shane couldn’t believe he was talking to this vision, this dream thing, this figment of his imagination.
David moved closer to Shane. ‘That’s right, I did. But I’ve come back. I thought you’d be happy to see me.’ He sat on the end of the bed.
Shane stood up and pressed his back hard against the wall. He turned away from David and looked towards his window. There was a small gap in the curtains. He could see outside. The sky was clear. He could see the moon, a crescent moon lying on its side like a big silver banana. He stared at it.
‘I’m going to look out of the window,’ he said aloud. ‘I’ll just look out of the window for a while and then I’ll come to my senses. I’ll talk to myself to clear my mind, that’s what I’ll do. It’ll help me think of something else.’ He took a deep breath and started babbling. ‘I think I like the moon when it’s full. Especially when the sky is clear and there are all those weird shadows around the backyard. The shadows of the swings look like a space creature with tentacles I reckon.’
Shane ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Now, what other shadows are there?’ This was working. He was thinking of moonlight, shadows and space creatures. If he kept going then the angel vision thing would, of course, fade. He focused on moonlight, shadows. More images were coming to mind. The claw-like shadows under the bare apple tree and the web-like pattern of the clothes line. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted.
‘What do you think the apple tree looks like?’ said David. ‘And the clothes line: that makes great shadows too. Almost like a spider’s web, don’t you think?’ David smiled smugly as he said, ‘I can read your mind, Shaney boy.’
Shane turned sharply and looked David in the eye. He stared, hard.
‘I’m real,’ said David. ‘Believe me. You played basketball just before sunset, I watched you. You got bubblegum stuck all over your face, didn’t you?’
Shane stared. He knew David’s eyes. He’d always remember his eyes because of the joke. His mother called them hazel but David called them mud.
‘Yep, my eyes are still the same colour,’ said David, pulling the skin under them down to his cheeks. ‘Mud.’
Shane kept staring and leant forward just a little. ‘David,’ he said softly. ‘Is it really you? Are you really back?’
David nodded excitedly. ‘Isn’t it great? I can hardly believe it myself. I can’t hang around for too long though.’
Shane slid down the wall and slumped onto his bed. ‘But this is crazy. I’m just dreaming. I must be.’
David bounced down next to him. ‘Oh no you’re not. Just ask a question, any question. You must have loads of them.’
David was right. Shane had asked himself thousands of questions over the past year but in his stunned state he couldn’t remember one. He tipped his head back and rested on the wall. He had a question. He looked at David and frowned. ‘How did you get to be an angel?’
Talking To An Angel
Shane was up on his knees firing questions at David. ‘Where are your wings?’
‘Haven’t got any.’
‘What about a halo? Where’s your halo?’
‘Haven’t got one of those either.’
Shane turned his head to one side thoughtfully. ‘Well, what makes you an angel? Aren’t you just a ghost or spirit or something like that?’
‘Oh no,’ said David. ‘I’m definitely an angel.’
Shane shook his head. ‘I think they’ve made a mistake.’
David frowned. ‘Who?’
‘Whoever makes angels.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re no angel.’
‘Yes I am. Look at me.’ David spun round like a model on a catwalk.
Shane looked at him glowing with silver light. ‘But what about all those things you used to do to me? Those mean things.’
David couldn’t remember anything mean. Sure, he’d teased Shane a little from time to time, that was all. ‘I was only teasing you,’ he said. ‘I was never really mean to you.’
‘You told me you hated me lots of times!’ protested Shane.
‘I was only saying that to tease you or make you do what I wanted you to do.’
A few seconds of silence followed as Shane thought of other incidents that might discredit David’s angel status. ‘What about the bike? Do you remember the bike?’
‘Of course I remember the bike … which bike?’
‘My first bike. The little red one with the clown face on the seat. The one you wanted to teach me to ride. The one you sat me on, aimed at the rose bushes and pushed as hard as you could.’
David did remember. He’d got into awful trouble over that. He remembered thinking what fun it would be to see his little brother pedal his way uncontrollably into the needle-sharp thorns of a rose bush. He hadn’t thought about pain or injury; he’d just wanted to see what would happen and had watched with delight as Shane wobbled his way towards disaster. Shane’s arms had wrestled with the handle bars, his chubby little legs had pushed awkwardly at th
e pedals and his head had tipped this way and that as he struggled under a helmet that looked far too heavy for him. Then, CRUNCH!
David had an image in his mind now of Shane’s mouth stretched to its limit as an ear drum-bursting scream echoed around the neighbourhood and tears had filled his eyes as the scratches on his hands and legs turned blood red. The memory made David feel uncomfortable. He pulled his shoulders in and hunched them up to his ears.
‘Okay,’ he said sheepishly. ‘I admit it. That was a horrible thing to do and I don’t know why I did it, but I’m sorry. I don’t think I really wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to see you crash. You know, like in the funny movies.’
Shane lifted his top lip. ‘Yeah, well, I crashed all right. I was covered in scratches and Mum had to cover me in that slimy white cream stuff. I looked like a cream puff and it stung like hell!’
The word “hell” brought Shane back to his original point. ‘So, how did you get to be an angel?’
‘I don’t know,’ said David, looking skywards. ‘It just happened.’
‘Have you done any good things for anybody?’
‘No, not yet — but I will soon, I reckon.’
‘So what have you been doing for the past year?’
‘Learning to be an angel.’
Shane frowned. ‘Who shows you how to do that?’
‘The teachers.’
‘What teachers?’
‘The teachers at angel school.’
Shane’s face buckled with disgust. ‘You mean even when you die they make you go to school? That’s unbelievable!’
‘It’s not so bad,’ said David, smiling. ‘They teach you some great things. Watch this.’
The light around his body flickered with sparks as he slowly, and without effort, drifted up and over Shane’s bed.
Shane watched in awe as his brother performed flying feats around his room. Even in that limited space David could spin, glide, hover and dive. Shane chuckled softly to himself.
‘Wicked!’ he whispered.
It was like the fun times with David when he was alive. The times they spent lost in imaginary games on rainy afternoons. The times they jumped on their mum and dad’s bed for a family tickle-tackle. The times, at night, when David would tell Shane the rude jokes he’d heard at school. They’d giggle until tears filled their eyes and their bellies hurt. Remembering all those times made Shane happy.
David skimmed Shane’s head and turned himself upside down. His thin black hair fell away from his face and his mud-coloured eyes sparkled playfully. Then, with a twist and a turn, he glided gracefully down to the bed. He faced Shane, folded his arms and crossed his legs. ‘Well, what do you think? I’m just a beginner, remember.’
Shane was stunned, so stunned he was almost speechless. ‘You’re amazing … wicked.’
‘It’s pretty easy really,’ said David coyly.
‘What else can you do?’ asked Shane, expecting more mind-blowing entertainment.
‘Well, apart from reading minds, flying about and disappearing I can throw soul sparks and mould energy balls in my hands.’ David paused thoughtfully. ‘Oh! And I can glow a bit brighter as well.’
‘Show me,’ said Shane, bobbing about excitedly. ‘Show me all that stuff.’
Just as Shane was keen to hear about angels, David was keen to hear how earth life had been since he’d left. ‘I’ll show you everything later. Let’s just talk for a while, Shane.’
Shane nodded and then they both started talking at once.
‘Did you know that Mum and Dad …’
‘You should see the stars over the …’
After a good laugh together, David talked about crashing in flying lessons, controlling his glow and angel teachers.
Shane talked about basketball, bubblegum and his own teachers.
Time passed unnoticed.
Shane was sitting face to face with his brother, completely relaxed. Any doubts he had had were long gone.
But then, suddenly, in the middle of it all, David stopped and peered out the window.
‘Oh no! I’ve got to go.’
Shane didn’t want him to. There was so much more to talk about. He was just getting used to having David around again. He didn’t want the emptiness back, but he could feel it coming. The quiet car rides and tea times, the empty room he walked past every time he went up the passageway. He leant forwards, clutching at a glowing arm that couldn’t be held.
‘Don’t go yet, David. Stay a bit longer, just a bit.’
‘I can’t, Shane. I’ve got to go.’
‘Why?’
‘Look, I can’t argue with you. I’ve got to go and that’s that. Tell Mum and Dad I’m okay will you?’ David threw a worried glance skywards, then looked back at Shane. ‘Please tell them. Promise me you’ll tell them you’ve seen me and that I’m okay. They don’t have to worry about me.’ David’s form began to fade …
A frantic feeling gripped Shane. Desperation, then panic, then anger. ‘You’d better come back!’ he growled. ‘You’d better come back, not like last time. You shouldn’t have died anyway. I was really angry with you, you know!’
David hovered above Shane’s bed, stunned by the sudden outburst. ‘But I’d been sick for ages. You knew I wasn’t going to get better. We all knew.’
‘But Mum and Dad spent all that time at the hospital with you. I had to stay at Aunt Sue’s and eat weeds and sleep in that room with wallpaper that looks like spew!’
Shane was spitting his words out now, saying everything he could think of in case David didn’t come back. He wanted to say how he’d felt the past year. He wanted to get it out, to tell somebody, even an angel that he might only be imagining. He needed to say how sad and empty he’d felt. How lonely, how desperate, how scared. And how miserable his mum and dad had been. ‘You didn’t even try, did you? You didn’t even try to hang on. You just let go, didn’t you? Didn’t you?’
David moved towards the window. He had his back to Shane, his head bowed. His voice echoed in Shane’s head as he faded. ‘I’d been sick for too long, Shane. Everything hurt. I just couldn’t hang on any more. I was too weak to fight.’
Shane was hunched on all fours like a crazed cat ready to pounce on a bird. David turned to face him. Shane looked into his mud eyes. As he looked, David’s face changed somehow and Shane suddenly had an image of him in hospital, struggling to take every breath but still smiling — his face gaunt, eyes glazed, skin pale. He had been so brave.
That’s why they’d made him an angel. There’d been no mistake. Shane lifted himself onto his knees. His bed covers lay twisted beneath him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Will you come back?’
‘Of course I will,’ nodded David. ‘Here, have a present before I go.’
David cupped his hands in front of him and a ball of soft blue light formed inside them. ‘This will make you feel good,’ he said. ‘Let it hit you.’
David tossed the ball and it fizzed and spun through the air. Shane was mesmerised. It hit him in the chest and sent a buzz of electric emotion through his body. Wide-eyed and almost breathless with delight, Shane watched David’s form fade into the night.
Shane sat, stunned, and stared into space. His body prickled with excitement. Hours passed, he couldn’t sleep. He lay on his back, clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His head was spinning and his stomach churning.
How was he going to tell his mum and dad?
Should he tell them at all?
How was he going to make them believe him?
He’d have to sit them down and tell them quietly. He couldn’t just blurt out! Could he?
The Morning After
The sounds of morning clattered, splashed and rattled up the passageway towards Shane’s room like a crazy percussion band preparing for a concert. The smell of burning toast hung in the air and fingers of morning sun made his whole room glow with soft yellow light.
His eyelids started to flicker then lift slowly. He squinte
d. He rubbed his eyes and kicked at his tangled quilt. A strong yawn slowly pulled his mouth open as he arched his body in a stretch. He could hear his father chinking a razor on the hand basin in the bathroom and his mother clanging a spoon around the nearly empty coffee jar. The kettle whistled to a steamy boil, then died with the flick of a switch. The radio was on too but it was all just confused babble to Shane.
He heard his mother call. ‘Rob, wake Shane up will you? He’ll be late for school if he doesn’t get a move on.’
His father grunted and appeared almost immediately at Shane’s door with only half a beard. He liked having a beard and had had one for as long as Shane could remember. But from time to time he liked to shave it off completely and start a new one. He said it tidied it up. ‘Come on mate, be an angel and get out of bed will you?’
Angel! Shane sat up as if he’d been zapped by a bolt of lightning. David fizzed into his memory. ‘David!’ he cried. ‘David’s one of those.’
Shane’s father was heading back to finish his shave when he heard Shane cry out. Dabbing a wet towel on some blood spots under the shaved half of his chin he turned quickly back to his son. ‘What was that?’ he asked, leaning in the doorway. ‘Did you say something about David?’
Shane rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. He’d promised to tell Mum and Dad about David, but not like this. He looked at his father with half a chin covered in beard and the other half streaked with white shaving foam. He was smiling, trying to look calm and relaxed.
‘You’ve had another dream, haven’t you?’ he said, walking into Shane’s room.
Shane gritted his teeth. ‘No,’ he answered softly.
His father sat on the end of the bed and patted Shane’s leg. ‘But I thought I heard you mention David.’
‘I did.’
Shane’s father was puzzled and the look on his face displayed his confusion. ‘So … you did mention David, but you didn’t have a dream.’
Shane was cornered, trapped — there was no way out now. He had to tell him.
Angel Page 2
