Great! My first day of middle school, and I’m left with Monsieur Dorky Guy.
And a dead dork at that.
Pretty much my biggest nightmare come true.
Temporarily forgetting the fact that thoughts are energy—that they can be heard by everyone Here until he turned to me and said, “Dorky guy?” Balking in a way that made his eyes bug out so much they practically pressed against his lenses, gaping at me as though he’d never been called that before, which, sorry to say, I found very hard to believe. “Did you seriously just call me a dork?” he repeated, clearly offended.
I stood there, lips screwed to the side, shoulders lifting in embarrassment, knowing there was no way to take it back, or at least not gracefully anyway. Deciding to just step up and own up when I said, “Well, maybe if you lost the suit and tie and ungreased your hair a little—you wouldn’t look quite so—er—” I paused, reluctant to use the offending word yet again even though it was clearly the only one that would fit.
“Dorkish? Dork-like? Like the sole inhabitant of Dorkville?” He looked at me, brows merged, lips grim, and certainly not glowing like he did earlier. “Is that what you meant?”
I shrugged, unsure where to take it from there, but looking right at him when I said, “Listen, I’m new, and this is all still a little confusing. Apparently I have some bad habits left over from the earth plane, and I haven’t learned how to guard my thoughts yet, or even if that’s actually possible. But the point is, I have no idea where I’m supposed to be, I just know I’m supposed to be somewhere. So, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna—”
I started to leave, started to push past him, but he just appeared right before me again in all of his four-eyed, greasy-haired dorkitude. Arms crossed tightly, head tilted to the side, as he slowly looked me over and said, “As it just so happens, I know exactly where you should be. You need to be following me.”
I rolled my eyes, sincerely doubting that. Besides, no way was I following him. He was too weird, too dorky, and too obviously offended by the fact that I’d called him that. Standing my ground, I watched as he headed for this huge, all-glass pavilion. Taking the steep set of stairs in a handful of steps, just assuming I’d follow, which, eventually, left with no better options, I’m ashamed to admit, but I did.
“Hey—um—” I squinted at the back of his head, having no idea what to call him, but pretty sure that dorky guy was off-limits from this point on. “What is this place?” I asked, dreading the embarrassment of showing up late for my very first class where I’d instantly be pegged as the clueless new girl for the rest of the year. “Seriously, where are you taking me?” I called, staring at his retreating back, seeing how he was pretty tall for his age, which I figured to be somewhere around fourteen even though he dressed more like somebody’s dad.
Following him around a corner and stopping just short of bumping right into him when he paused before a large, smoked-glass door, opened it wide, and said, “They’re all inside. Waiting for you.”
I glanced between him and the door, seeing him nod encouragingly as I poked my head in and peered around at a big empty room where absolutely no one was waiting for me or anyone else for that matter. My eyes adjusting to the light as I took in the large, raised stage partially hidden by heavy, red velvet drapes, and the rows of soft, cushy chairs that faced it. And even though the room seemed perfectly nice, and not at all threatening in any way, shape, or form, I couldn’t help but notice the awful feeling invading my middle, urging me to get the heck out of there, before it was too late.
And just as I turned to ask if this was some kind of hoax, some kind of lame pick-on-the-new-girl hazing ritual, he pressed his hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me inside.
Saying, “Good luck—you’re gonna need it!” as the door slammed shut behind me.
6
I reached for the handle, eager to get the heck out so I could track him down and really let him have it. And I’d almost succeeded, when someone called out from behind me and I turned, scowl planted firmly in place, dreading even a moment’s delay, only to find myself face-to-face with what I assumed to be an angel.
An incredibly beautiful, glittering angel.
The first one I’d seen since I’d arrived Here.
“Riley?” She looked at me with eyes so kind, I immediately eased the frown from my face. “You are Riley Bloom, right?”
I nodded. It was all I could do. I was so awed, so struck by her appearance, the way her long curly hair shimmered and shone, transforming from yellow to brown to black to red before starting the sequence all over again, while her skin did the same, converting from the palest white to the darkest ebony and everything else in between. And her gown, her beautiful, blue, sparkly gown, swished all around, gleaming in a way that made it look like it was woven from generous piles of stardust and long yards of lace. The only thing missing were wings, or if she had them, they wer
en’t quite visible to me.
She smiled, beckoning for me to come closer, and I instantly followed without thinking twice. Because the truth is, she was so mesmerizing, so stunning, I just couldn’t refuse. Radiating a light so brilliant, so vibrant, so deep, so—purpley—it made cheerleader girl and dorky guy seem like burned-out bulbs in comparison. And though I was sure I’d never met her before, she somehow seemed strangely familiar. And the moment she smiled, her kind eyes studying mine, I knew why—she was like every fairy-tale princess come to life.
“We’re so very glad to see you,” she said, hands folded before her.
We?
I blinked, once, twice, amazed to see the seats that had sat empty just a moment ago were now occupied by a small group of robe-clad people. But even though they glowed too, not one of them shined nearly as brightly as the beautiful angel before me.
“I’m Aurora,” she said, and to be honest, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. If anyone could pull off a name like that, it was her. “And this here is Claude.” She motioned toward a guy with a long, dark ponytail that pretty much matched the long, scraggly beard that hung almost to his waist. “And Royce.” She nodded toward the guy next to Claude who, with his wavy brown hair, dark skin, and glinting green eyes, was definitely hot enough to be a major movie star back home on the earth plane. Samson was the guy sitting to his right, and honestly, he looked so old, he almost looked young again, like he’d come full circle or something, even though I know that doesn’t really make any sense. And next to Samson was Celia, who was so petite, she seemed almost like a person in miniature, and her creamy silk robe was covered in the most beautiful embroidery of bright blossoming flowers and long, spindly vines.
But despite how kind, welcoming, and completely non-threatening they all seemed, despite how they glowed in varying shades ranging from Celia’s cornflower blue to Aurora’s vibrant purple, I still couldn’t ditch this increasingly uncomfortable feeling that lived inside me, though it’s not like I could place it either. Nor could I come up with one good reason for having it in the first place. All I knew, as I stood there before them, was that something was up.
Something big.
And even though now, looking back, it all seems pretty obvious, at the time, I didn’t have even the slightest clue of what I was in for.
From everything I’d seen up to that point, it didn’t even occur to me that that kind of thing could actually be true.