An Angel's Job
Author: Lyndsay Noemia

Chapter 1
Dreams Are Real

     "Please, stop." Tears were streaming down my cheeks and my voice was barely above a whimper.
     The man flashed a wild grin again, "Why? I'm just beginning to have fun." The dim street lamp provided enough light for me to see the flash of the knife. In a flash, pain sent a horrid sensation up my arm. A cry of pain escaped my lips. It was drowned out by the howl of laughter coming from the man's mouth. Suddenly, that too was drowned out by another noise. This noise was foreign, though.
     This sound was that of beating wings, like a bird's only much, much louder. The feeling of the wall against my back was replaced with the wet pavement. I was in too much shock to notice that my arms were still bleeding. Standing in front of me was a tall, shirtless guy with his back to me. It took me a second to realize why he was shirtless. Coming out of his back were two huge black wings. They weren't all black, though. Contrasting heavily to the midnight of his wings were two broad, white stripes- one for each wing. 
     "Get away from her!" The booming command seemed to echo throughout the whole alley.
     The man who had once been holding me against the wall flashed his wild smile again. "Hey, pretty boy. You wanna fight too?" He pulled out another knife and threw it at the winged hero. He jumped sideways so that the knife barely hit one of the feathers on his wing. With his back still to me, he grabbed the man with the knife. Through blurry eyes, I saw his pale arms as he thrust his arm forward and the man was sent through the brick wall.
     The man who had once been holding me against the wall was now part of the wall. It was unnecessary to get up, he was dead for sure. My hero didn't turn around but said, "Close your eyes."
     Without knowing why, I complied with the soft command. Soon, there were arms around me, and there was no longer pavement against my back. Resisting every urge in my body, I kept my eyes closed. "This is a dream." I whispered. Against my side, there was a slow rumbling, like someone was laughing. I decided to stop talking, it was definitely a dream. After what felt like half an hour, I heard the sound of a door opening. Then beneath me was a recognizable thing. I was lying in a bed. Then I felt my jacket being unzipped. I was instantly afraid. "I will not hurt you. Please, stay still." Again, I complied without knowing why. Lying there, clad in a camisole and jeans, eyes still closed, a tingling sensation took over my arms.
    "What are you doing?" The question hung in the air while the tingling sensation grew stronger. It wasn't the same sensation as the one in the alley, it felt warm, like when you just step into a hot shower. Then the feeling went away, to let a cold shudder pass through me.
    "You should be healed now."
    With that, I opened my eyes to see not darkness, but light illuminating my room. The red lights on my white alarm clock flashed six thirty. Suppressing a sigh, I shuffled into the bathroom and took a shower. My reflection caught my eye as I stepped out of the shower. I looked down at my arms. There was nothing there. My every thought went to that dream. It had felt so real, every image was so vivid.
     The black midnight of his wings. The soft melodic tone of his voice. How could I have been capable of dreaming of something so beautiful? Then I shook myself. There was no way that could have happened. It was only a dream. That's when I heard the melodic voice again, "Dreams are real." I froze momentarily, then went to wake my brother up. My imagination was being really weird lately.
     "Addison, get up!" I yelled at my sleeping tween brother. He wasn't my real brother; I was adopted. People thought we were related, though. We both had thick hair and the same skin tone- a sort of off white color that wasn't quite tan, but not pale, either. The biggest contrasts were his dark hazel eyes to my bright blue eyes, and his height. He was almost as tall as me and I was four years older than him. When the twelve-year-old lump didn't move, I walked over and poked his side. He jolted up, his shaggy brown hair hanging over his eyes. "I told you not to do that!" He yelled.
     "Love you, too." before he could punch me or do anything else that was harmful, I walked out of the room. After changing into a red and black button down shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a red camisole, gray skinny jeans, and black skinny tie, I made my way back to the bathroom. James Storm, my adopted father, walked into my room just as I was putting the finishing touched on my super short, blonde and pink hair. "Good morning, James." The tall, tan father figure didn't move.
     He was staring at me with piercing green eyes. "You aren't wearing that to school."
     This was a discussion that was relayed almost everyday that I attended Ridgewood High, "Why not?"
     "Because, your bra is sticking out of your undershirt." He said only the way a father could, adopted or not.
     Without looking up from the mirror on my wall, I said, "I'll keep it pulled up. Problem solved." Before anything else could be said on the matter, I hurriedly walked downstairs and pulled on my black and red Converse. James was at the top of the steps, "Put on a jacket!"
     "Okay!" I yelled back and ran out the door, leaving my jacket on the chair. Car keys in hand, my adopted mother almost ran me over. "I was just leaving. Bye Jasmine."
     "Bye, Clarice." The tall brunette barely looked back as she rushed out of the wood and glass door. After Clarice made her hasty retreat, I did the same. I climbed inside of my small, black Chevy Nova. The car was ancient, but James took good care of it. That was the biggest, and sometimes only advantage of having a mechanic father.
     Joining the small line of traffic merging to the student parking lot of Ridgewood High, my cell phone rang. I looked down to see the caller ID. Blythe Stewart, my best friend since the second grade, was calling. "Please hang up and try again." I said and her laughter chorused mine.
     "Um, I need a ride." She said shyly.
     Slowly turning around to see if my car could turn around without ticking anyone off, I said, "Fine, but we're going to be late, and you owe me one."
     The relief in her voice was audible even over the loud voices of The Hush Sound coming from the iPod I had hooked up to the stereo. "Thanks, Jasmine. I do owe you big time." Making my way to Blythe's house, something caught my attention. Standing on the side of the road, his back to me, was someone whose car broke down. He was leaning into the driver's seat when I pulled off to see what was wrong. Even though it totally went against my nature, something unknown to even myself caused me to get out of the car. "Is everything okay?"
     The stranger straightened up. Had I not had self control, my jaw would have hit the gravel on the side of the road. He was lanky, but I could tell that he could probably hold his own in a fight. His eyes were the most unique I'd ever seen without the aid of contacts. His eyes were that zombie clear blue that almost looked white, and they seemed to burn into mine, like he was seeing my soul. In his left ear were two silver rings. My skin appeared tan next to his, he was so pale. His somewhat shaggy midnight hair had a defining white streak in it. The thing that seemed to entrance me was his voice though. Speaking in a voice that sounded as if Mozart himself had composed it, he said, "Yes, but I'm going to be late. Is there any way you could give me a ride?"
     "Um, I haven't seen you around here before. What school do you go to?" I asked, evading his question, until I knew him a little better.
     "I'm new. I go to Bridgewood."
     I laughed, "You mean Ridgewood? I'll drive you. In fact I'm picking up my friend right now."
     He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat, "Really? I don't want to be a burden." I nodded and motioned for him to sit in the back seat behind the passenger seat.
     "Sorry if it's cramped. This car isn't used to company." He laughed and it sounded even more beautiful than his voice. Upon arriving at Blythe's house, I didn't wait for her to get in the car. I walked into her house just as she was putting on her gray Converse. "Okay, don't flip out, but there's this really hot guy in the car. Pretend like everything is normal."
     My shy friend replied, "Um, okay?" Before we left she used her hallway mirror to put the finishing touches on her long blonde hair.


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