Blown Away!: Even More Confessions of an Angel in Training Page 3

  A few months ago, Mercy arranged a reproduction of the Milky Way on our ceiling with some kind of glittery material. I stare at the stars, hoping they’ll provide some guidance. Apparently astrology and I are like oil and water, unmixable.

  How did I end up faced with this decision?

  Oh yeah. Asking The Big Guy for permission to skip Angel School. If I’d just done what I was supposed to do, declaring myself as a Guardian candidate, I would’ve been in classes with Justice today, instead of teleported to Michael’s office twice. In fact, Professor Keen would’ve asked some other AIT to demonstrate in class. I’d be the quiet, average student who sits in the back of the room. Mercy and I would still hang out all the time, and we wouldn’t have the privilege of having Faith as a roommate.

  But, I wouldn’t have met Victor or Aisha. I wouldn’t have helped Izzy or Tara and Finn. At least those good things came from my impulsiveness.

  Of course, I wouldn’t have met Annex either.

  It’s hard to weigh the good versus the not-so-good, and I’m not even sure what Faith’s scales would’ve said about my decision.

  Faith’s scales!

  I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before losing all this sleep. I throw back the covers and tip toe to her desk. There they are, front and center, covered by a soft cloth to protect them from dust. She pampers them like a baby, and that cloth is their diaper. Come to think of it, she probably wouldn’t have let me borrow them if I’d asked before she went to sleep. Further proof that everything happens for a reason, even if the idea didn’t occur to me straight away and I lost a few winks.

  I remove the cloth and fire up my halo. The scales glow in the warm light, and it almost feels wrong to touch them. Almost.

  I haven’t received my scales yet, and I’ve never used a pair before, but I have seen Faith use them once when she was trying to make a decision between two classes for her schedule this year. If you ask me, that was probably an improper use of her gift.

  Not that I always follow the rules, but I expect better behavior from Faith.

  At any rate, when she did it she wrote her options on two pieces of paper. The correct decision was heavier. I take two pieces of note paper from a drawer at the bottom of the scales. On one I write spy on Annex, on the other I write take classes and hang out with friends. I fold each note and gently set them on either side of the scales. And…

  …they don’t move. Not one tiny bit. I remove the pieces of paper and meditate for a bit. Maybe the side matters? I lean down to get my eyes level with the pans, and lay the paper on either side. Nothing, nada, zilch. Dear Dad, I hope I didn’t break them.

  Maybe they only work for the rightful owner?

  I’m about to re-cover them and put them away, when I decide to try one more thing. I scribble quickly on two pieces of paper, fold the notes and place them on the pans. The right side sinks like a rock and thunks the desk. Well, at least I know they work.

  “Grace, what do you think you’re doing? Are those my scales?”

  Snagged!

  Faith is sitting straight up in bed, like she has some kind of measurement radar. The glow from my halo makes it completely obvious what I’m doing.

  “Sorry. I…uh…just wanted to see if skipping school was the right decision.”

  “Was it?”

  I point to the lower pan. “Apparently it was.”

  She huffs. “Well next time, just ask, instead of sneaking around like some kind of Transgressor.”

  “Sorry,” I repeat, but inside I’m doing a little happy dance because Faith has just said she’ll share her scales with me. And even though they aren’t giving me a clear answer on the Annex question, maybe I can figure out some stuff with Victor.

  Chapter 6

  I do a double take as I walk into my History of Mankind class. Victor is standing, actually leaning one hand on Professor Vivid’s desk to support himself while talking to her. Is he transferring to this class? No, that doesn’t make any sense. He’s a Full Angel.

  I take my normal seat in the back of the room, next to Justice. He leans over and says, “Hey isn’t that—”

  “Yes it is.” I glance back at the front of the room. He looks incredible today. His caramel-streaked, dark brown hair is the right amount of mussed, like he just rolled out of bed. It’s hard enough to stay focused in this class.

  He looks up at the other students filing in through the door and scans the classroom. His deep brown eyes land on me. I swallow hard. He gives me a wink, so quick and subtle that I wonder if I imagined it.

  I know, I know. Angels aren’t supposed to form any special attachments to humans or other Angels.

  Confession: I may be destined to break this rule.

  When the last of the students takes her seat, and that would be Breezy, who is always almost late, Professor Vivid stands behind her podium and Victor steps to the side, but doesn’t take a seat. She clears her throat and says, “I promised you all a guest speaker today. Please welcome Victor Angelo. He’s been a second-generation Guardian and was one of the chosen to help in the aftermath of the deluge.

  A few of the students have turned around to see what I’m doing. How do they…oh yeah, right. He flew me around on that episode of Bloopers. How many eons until I live that down?

  “Thank you, Professor Vivid. Thank you very much.” He towers over her as he steps to the podium, giving her the irresistible smile I know so well. Color rises up her throat, pinking her cheeks. Yeah, he has that effect on me, too.

  “Hello, future Guardians. I’m honored to be speaking to such a talented and passionate group today.” He focuses on me when he says passionate, holding his gaze for two seconds more than is comfortable. “Your chosen vocation is, in my humble opinion, the most important, despite the way it’s sometimes viewed.” Several AITs shift uncomfortably in their chairs. They all know we’re at the bottom of the angelic totem pole, so to speak. What they don’t know is that Victor gave me a totem pole as a gift last year, and there’s more than one way to view it.

  “It’s all a matter of perspective,” he says as if he read my mind, and then continues without missing a beat. “As Professor Vivid mentioned, I’ve been a Guardian for a very long time. What she didn’t tell you is that it has been almost that long since I’ve walked the halls of L’Academie. I wasn’t exactly a model student, so I’ve had no reason to return, but rest assured nothing has changed, except you have more history to learn than I did.” He rolls his eyes like this is an inside joke we all share. A few girls giggle at this.

  “So, let’s talk turkey, or rather doves, Noah and the flood. How many of you know the story?”

  Everyone raises their hands. How could we not know it? It’s one of the first things we learned in the first year of schooling.

  “I thought so. But, by a show of hands, how many of you know the whole story?”

  Justice starts to raise his hand, but when he sees that I keep mine down he lowers it quickly. Most of the AITs raise their hands. A few others are wary like me. “Is it a trick question?” Justice asks.

  I shrug. Because I don’t know, but the way Victor emphasized the word whole makes me think we’re about to learn something new, which would make sense, otherwise why re-teach what we’ve already learned.

  “Okay, I’m going to make a series of statements. Raise your hands if you think it’s true. Keep them down if they’re false. Understand? ” Everyone nods that they understand.

  “The flood covered the entire Earth.” All hands fly up, including mine.

  “Nope,” he says.

  “Two of every animal were stored for safekeeping on the ark?” This time a few of us keep our hands down, because if it didn’t cover the whole Earth, they wouldn’t need every animal, right?

  “False,” he says.

  “He did this because He was angry at mankind?” My fingers twitch. I can’t imagine Him getting that angry. I’ve screwed up several times, and He’s never lost his temper. Now, if you asked me if
Michael was capable of flooding mankind…

  Except…that’s not right either. Even he has shown me patience when it wasn’t deserved. Fewer hands go up this time.

  “Not precisely,” Victor says, “although there’s a partial truth there. Now for the last statement question: it rained for forty days and nights.” Almost no one raises their hands this time. I mean, c’mon, it’s pretty easy to see from the pattern that we don’t know this story at all.

  “Actually, that part is one hundred percent true.” Victor strums his fingers against the podium.

  Over the next thirty minutes, Victor talks about the events that led up to the flood, the collection of animals, and what actually happened to the area once the rain started. He finishes by saying, “The aftermath of the deluge was quite catastrophic in that region. As far as the people of that day knew, it was everywhere. Today, on Earth, with all of the mass communication, everyone is aware of the events that cripple an area. And, with transportation, people from other places can help. Think about the tsunami several years back. If those people had no link to others in the world, they may have thought the Earth was destroyed by the wrath of God.”

  When really it was the wrath of MN.

  It seems like Victor’s using Unconventional Communication to read my mind when he asks, “Have any of you heard of Natura?”

  I look around the classroom at all the blank expressions, then decide to raise my hand.

  “Yes. You in the back. One side of Victor’s mouth quirks up as he pretends not to know me. He must’ve forgotten about Bloopers.

  I keep the façade going. “Natura is another name for Mother Nature. I think she’s quite powerful, almost like an Archangel…but not exactly, and she seems to have many different…um…facets to her personality.

  Victor chuckles. “If you’re trying to say she’s moody in the nicest way possible, that’s true. She’s basically in charge of weather, and everything else on Earth that doesn’t deal with Humans. Some would say she’s even more powerful than an Archangel.”

  There are a few dumbfounded expressions, because as far as I can tell, she’s not a very public figure.

  “I thought The Big Guy was in charge of all that,” one of the other students volunteers.

  “Ultimately, He is. Of course He created all of it, along with everything else, but he’s turned over the day-to-day management of it to her. So her role in the flood is quite important. As I recall, she was quite angry. But, what’s really important for you to remember, especially for those among you who will be Guardians, is that everyone who’s in the path of a weather disaster is experiencing their own version of Noah’s ark.”

  And then, it hits me. Natura is really, really upset about Annex and the Locusts in The Wilds. If she blows her fuse, bad, bad things could happen on Earth. What if she sent a Hurricane to Florida and hurt Finn or the Murphy’s? What if she created an earthquake in California where Izzy and Tara are living? Or what if something happened somewhere else? Every person has their own soul and heart and story. I can’t let that happen. Of anything over the last couple days, Victor’s lecture has convinced me that I need to go.

  “Grace, I see that look in your eye. What are you thinking?” Justice asks me.

  “I’m taking that special Mission,” I say.

  Chapter 7

  After history of Mankind, I stop by Powers to let Professor Keen know I need to go to the Administrative Offices over in Quadrant I to see Archangel Michael. “I don’t know how long I’ll be there, so I might miss all of class today,” I tell him.

  “Very good. But you should continue to work on your Elemental Skills. Did you practice last night?”

  “Um…not last night. I…my mind…I was preoccupied.”

  “I understand.” His eyes are gentle. “Still, you must promise me you’ll practice. Those skills will be very important where you’re going.”

  How does he know? I only figured this out ten minutes ago.

  “My Unconventional Communication skills, Miss Lightbourne. That’s how I know.”

  Holy Cannoli.

  “I’m sorry to lose you again this year. I’d been looking forward to having you in class.”

  “I bet. It’s not every student who sets your classroom on fire.”

  He chuckles. “That’s true, but it’s not every day I have an AIT capable of setting the world on fire. Be well, Miss Lightbourne, and very, very cautious. I’d like to have you in class next year.”

  “Thanks, Professor. Your class is always my favorite, and I’d like to be here for an entire term.”

  I leave the Powers building behind, and walk toward the Administrative offices. Slowly, because it gives me time to change my mind. Slowly, because it postpones the inevitable.

  It seems like a normal day with the normal amount of busy-ness. Angels walk in and out of Perpetuity. A group of undeclared AITs is visiting the Hall of Records. Up ahead I see the Temple and the Administrative Building. I’m not ready to face this. Is there another option? I turn down a side street and decide to walk around the block once, twice if necessary, to make sure I’m not being too impulsive this time around. What if I say no? They’ll send someone else, won’t they? To my right, I see the Council of Muses building. It’s circular, spiraling, and askew, but in an artistic way that somehow feels balanced. I don’t know how many times I’ve passed this building, but it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 430,000. Not really, but it’s a lot.

  I’d never really thought much about Muses until Aisha mentioned that Victor’s ex had become one to avoid the temptation of him. Then, on my last Assignment, when I met her I finally realized how important they truly are to people with an interest in the arts. At the end of the Mission Victor and Annex had a colossal battle. When the dust settled, Cherish had disappeared.

  Anyway…I’ve never visited the Council before. Heck, I never even knew an AIT who wanted to become one.

  And isn’t that a question! How does an Angel become a Muse?

  Muses don’t have their own level in the Hierarchy. So, are they a branch of Guardians who specialized in the arts? Or are they Thrones, part of the elite-level Guardians for those with power and influence? The job had never been explained to us in our early years of school, and because I’d made a habit of skipping my secondary education, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find out. Maybe Mercy knows. I’ll ask her.

  Funny. The things we don’t know to ask.

  I turn onto the path to the entrance, passing the fountain with its polished marble statues depicting three Muses – one of art with a paintbrush and palette, one of music with a lyre, and one of poetry with a quill pen—then, climb the steps to the carved wooden doors.

  Inside the building there’s a waiting area, a long line of windows with angels sitting in chairs in front of them, and a ticket dispenser to grab your spot in line. Yes, even though there’s beautiful artwork hanging on the walls and it’s architecturally unique, it’s like any other administrative building in Heaven—you have to wait in line.

  Somehow, I’d thought it’d be a little less…rigid.

  One thing is. The Muses. Angels typically wear plain robes, white for special occasions, and our everyday dress is color coordinated by our place in The Hierarchy. Guardians are light blue, for example. One Muse strolls past me in a kimono, mostly white with red and black slashes. Another wears a kaftan of jewel tones, while a third is dressed in black jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of freakin’ awesome black boots. Pretty cool. Almost a reason to be a Muse. Still, at least Guardians get to dress differently when they’re on a Mission.

  Hmmm…could they tell me where Cherish is?

  There’s a line at the window, but I decide to take a number and wait. The slip of paper reads 247 and they’re on 242, so it doesn’t seem too bad. Like I said, postpone the inevitable. I stroll around the lobby, looking at some of the artwork on display by masters who have taken their place in Paradise. There’s a Picasso, a Rembrandt, a Renoir. I wonder if I should j
ust skip this and head to—

  “Two forty-seven. Is two forty seven here?” a voice screeches over the loud speaker. I hurry to an open window and say, “Sorry. I got wrapped up in all the beautiful artwork.”

  “What’s your request?” the woman asks. She’s wearing a floral robe like the other Muses and her hair is held up by two ebony chopsticks.

  “I’m trying to locate a friend of mine who’s a Muse.”

  “Name, please.”

  “Mine or hers?”

  The woman sighs heavily and looks up, presumably in search of patience. “Hers.”

  “It’s Cherish.”

  “Last name?” The woman’s fingers hover over her keyboard waiting for me to supply the answer. This may have been a bad idea.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know it.”

  “She’s your friend and you don’t know her surname?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Look, Miss…do you know how many Cherishes there are?”

  “No,” I confess. “Do you?”

  She looks up from the keyboard and takes off her glasses, raising an eyebrow. I’ve probably blown any chance of cooperation from her. “I have no idea, but I do know there are 13,547 muses named Cherish. If I have to look up each of them we’ll both be here for a while.”

  “I’m sorry. Never mind.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in class now? You’re an AIT, right?”

  I nod.

  “Care to explain how an AIT would become friends with a Muse?”

  “We shared an Assignment; I lost track of her.”

  “An Assignment?”

  “Yes, she was inspiring an upcoming rock star named Izzy and I was his Guardian—”

  “How is that possible?” Her voice runneth over with skepticism. She probably thinks I’m mentally unstable. Besides, it’s a really long story if I start with my decision on Declaration Day. In fact, it’s two long stories, one for each Mission. I hesitate. Maybe the direct approach?