Queen Bee or Angel?

April 29, 2011
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“Who is it today?” my best friend Brittany asked.
“Well, Monday is band geek day so. . . Darla Davidson,” I said.
“Awesome! So first, fourth, or seventh period?”
“Definitely fourth,” I said as Brit and I entered the cafeteria and took our place at the head table. As we walked by some called out their hellos while others opted for the jealous glares. Hey, you win some you lose some. Being the Queen Bee has its advantages but jealous is definitely a downfall. But if being at the top entails ignoring jealous girls then that's exactly what I'll do.
“So fourth period . . . In the band room or in the hallway?” Brit asked me.
“Last week we were in the band room so . . .”
“Hallway it is.”
*















*















*
“Please, no. What did I do to you?” Darla asked, confused, her eyes darting crazily around the hallway, pleading for assistance. If anyone noticed they didn’t let it show.
“Oh, nothing but breathe my air,” Brit responded, her voice thick with sarcasm.
“So what is it this week, Brit?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I was thinking we read this.” Brit said pulling a book out of her coach purse. Darla recognized it immediately.
“No! I’ll do anything just, please, don’t read it!” It was her diary. And on that note Brittany began reading.
“Dear Diary, right now I’m sitting in science class and I keep seeing Mike’s eyes drift my way. I think he may like me.” As Brit continued reading Darla glued her eyes to the floor and Mike’s face began turning an embarrassing shade of red.”I wish he’d ask me to Prom.”
“Ok, I think we’ve heard enough for now.” Seeing the irritation in Brit’s eyes I continued.“Don’t worry, Darla, there’s always next week.” And with that I turned my back and disappeared down the hallway.
“Well that was fun, huh, Angel?” Brit said as she caught up with me. I don’t see how she did considering the fact she’s wearing four-inch heels.
“Yeah, lots,” I said only halfheartedly. Our games were growing old and I liked to keep things moving.“Hey, Brit, I’m not feeling that great, I think I’m going to head home.”
“Oh, feel better!” she responded with the enthusiasm only a second-in-command could have while the alpha was away.
“I’ll try,” I said as I hopped into my convertible and sped away from school.
*















*















*
“Carla, I’m home,” I called to our housekeeper as I walked through the door, dropping my coat and my keys on the chair as I went.
“Angela? What are you doing home so early?” she asked, concern flooding in to her voice.
“Wasn’t feeling well.”
“Well, I just cleaned your room, so why don’t you go lie down?”
“I think I’ll do just that.” Walking up the stairs I called down, “Thanks, Carla!” and gave her a genuine smile. Usually when I enter my room the first thing I see is my gigantic bed submerged in a bath of soft, golden light coming from the large bay window, but today the first thing I saw was a strange man hidden in the shadows flipping through my copy of The Last Song. My first instinct was to scream, but before I could make a sound his hand was over my mouth. Not an unusual technique, but the part that freaked me out was that 0.2 seconds ago he was across the room seemingly transfixed in a book.
“Ok, I’m going to uncover your mouth now but if you make so much as one sound before I tell you to you’re going to regret it. Do you understand?” I nodded, suddenly convinced it wasn’t an empty threat. “Good. My name is Damon and I won’t hurt you as long as you give me no reason to.” As he moved his hand off my mouth he stepped out from the shadows and I just stood there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open. Now I’m sure you’re wondering why mouth was hanging open and I’m positive you wouldn’t believe me if I told you but here I go: he had wings.
“Who—”I started but Damon cut me off.
“Remember what you promised,” he reminded me, anger gleaming in his dark eyes. My question got stuck in my throat as I tried to distract myself from the danger standing right in front of me. “All right, now if you can control yourself, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” Oh, that’s, fair. He’s the stranger here and he still gets to ask the questions. “What’s your name?” Seriously? He breaks into my house, threatens me and he doesn’t even know my name? There goes my theory of his wings having magical powers. “Angela Moon.”
“Are your parents home?”
“No, my mother’s dead and I’ve never known my father. I live with my aunt,”
“That’s what I thought. Ok Angela, I’m going to tell you something that’s going to change your life. Are you ready for that?” Of course I wasn’t, but as all mysterious strangers do, he went on anyway.“You’re a Guardian Angel.”
*















*















*
This is not happening. Not to me. I can’t be an Angel. Damon’s making a huge mistake. There’s no way I can be an Angel. When I picture an Angel, I see a perfect face surrounded by glowing, blonde hair with her body cloaked in white garments, not some seventeen-year-old with dull, brown hair and acne. I also can’t quite picture an Angel wearing ripped jeans, a concert T-shirt, and old sneakers. Angels are supposed to be perfect role models and I’m barely passing history.
Plus from what I actually heard of Damon’s little lecture there are more rules then I’d care to know, let alone follow. For example did you know that Angels can’t eat fruit? I mean I’m allergic so that’s never been a problem but . . . wow that took me a while. I’d blame it on the shock but then I’d be lying and that’s against the rules too. Well, this should be loads of fun.
Damon also said something about not associating with the Fallen, whatever that means. I fall all the time and people still talk to me. Just yesterday I was walking into the cafeteria and tripped over a band gee—uhh, I forgot, now that I know what I am, I can’t say anything offensive about others. Talk about a 360, right? Uhh, this is making my head spin, I have to call Brit. I need someone to talk to about this. So I picked up my cell and called her.
“Hey, are you feeling better?”
“Not really. Are you busy I need to talk to you”
“We’re talking right now,” Brit said, sounding confused.
“No, I mean face-to-face.”
“Oh well, I’m not doing anything. I’ll meet you in ten minutes at the mall.”
“Ok, but why the mall?”
“I need a new lip gloss!” Typical.
“Ok, well I’ll see you in ten then.”
“Kk, bye girl!” Brittany responded, then hung up the phone.
*















*















*
“Hey, Brit!”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“A lot, actually. Lots of stuff you wouldn’t believe if I told you.”
“Like?”
“Ok, I know this is going to sound crazy, but when I got home from school there was this guy in my bedroom and he told me I was an Angel. Crazy, right?” I said, starting to realize I sounded like a bad movie.
“Yeah, crazy,” Brittany finally said after a long awkward pause.
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, to tell you the truth I’ve known for a long time that you’ve been an Angel.”
“So it’s tru— wait a minute how could you possibly have known that I was an Angel if I didn’t even know myself?”
“Ummm . . . I know because . . . I’m an Angel too.”
“What?!”
“I’m just a different kind of Angel.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m Fallen.”
“Which means . . .?”
“I’ve turned my back on good and thrived in the shadows.”
“So that’s what Damon meant by Fallen,” I said quietly almost to myself.
“DAMON?!?! How do you possibly know Damon!” she screamed at me.
“I don’t know! He just showed up!”
“Well this changes things.”
“How?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me,” she said as she gave me a malicious grin.
“Why? Where are we going?” I questioned worriedly for Brittany had begun to show an evil gleam in her eye.
“Where no one can find you. And as for why you’ll know soon enough.” She said to me and accompanied it with what I believe to be an evil laugh.
“What—“ And then everything went black.





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Pinkypink541 said...
May 23, 2011 at 6:50 pm

I feel confused! Maybe you could add a little more detail.

Otherwise great story! Maybe you should consider making it into a novel.

 
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