Winging It (8 page)

“Curtis,” I said. “It’s OK. Go home and tell your mum you’re sorry and everything will be all right.”

“Yeah, but you’d better clean up your act, boy,” scolded Lola.

“No more
nicking
, young man!” said Flora, shaking her finger.

“Nice try, team, but use the Link, OK?” suggested Orlando. “It’s more effective.”

We gathered around Curtis so closely that I could smell his hot-dog breath. Then we linked him up with our angelic power supply and bombed him with heavenly vibes. Curtis’s thoughts calmed down at once. Not only that, the evil treacle phenomenon totally evaporated. It was as if the Opposition simply lost interest. As for those menacing kids, they sailed past Curtis as if he didn’t exist.

“They didn’t even see him!” breathed Amber.

“Well done, guys,” said Orlando quietly. He snapped his fingers. “End program,” he commanded.

FLASH! We were back in the Training Area. People were patting Flora on the back.

“What a star,” I told her.

I suddenly felt quite fond of her. You know, temporarily.

“That hot-dog thing really threw me off,” Ferdy was saying.

I’d stopped listening. I’d realised something incredibly important.

“Lollie,” I hissed. “I want to specialise in Time! And when I graduate, I’m going to try out for the Agency.”

“Do you really mean it?” Lola gasped.

Was she kidding? From now on, I was going to be the hardest-working, most responsible team member ever. Together we’d blaze through time and space on a cosmic crusade.

Goodbye, shallow human
, I thought deliriously.
And hello, wise angel
.

But you can’t say that kind of stuff aloud, even to your best friend. So I just said, “Yeah, Lollie, I really mean it.”

Several hours later, we were sprawling on Lola’s rug, sipping hot chocolate.

“I’m so happy, it’s ridiculous!” I told her.

“Ridiculous is right,” she yawned “You’ve got yourself a serious chocolate moustache, Boo!”

It was after midnight. We’d taken part in so many simulations, I’d lost count. We were shattered, but we couldn’t quite get up the energy to go to bed. It might sound weird, but outwitting the Opposition in a simulation burns up nearly as much angel electricity as the real thing.

“I wish I’d known this stuff when I was alive,” I said suddenly.

“Stuff?” Lola mumbled.

“Those times I genuinely thought I was alone, when all the time the Agency had everything under control. I wish someone had told me.”

“Me too,” Lola said with feeling.

“Lollie, there’s something I still don’t get,” I said.

“Hmn?” said Lola.

I swallowed. It was like I could hardly bring myself to say the name.

“I haven’t got a clue what the Opposition really is,” I confessed.

Lola sat up, frowning. “Do they have computer viruses in your time, Mel?”

I nodded. “They’re like sinister virtual life-forms.”

“So why do you think humans fool around with them?”

I ran my finger round my chocolatey mug and licked it thoughtfully.

“I think some people just enjoy committing major sabotage, period.”

“Exactly!” said Lola. “No-one really knows how the Opposition got into the cosmic system. And frankly, who cares? It’s out there now, doing major sabotage. And the Agency can’t ease up, or the Opposition would totally get the upper hand.”

“So it’s just like - a cosmic glitch. It isn’t real, right?” I asked uneasily. I think I just wanted Lola to comfort me, because deep down, I already knew the answer.

Lola took a deep breath, then she said quietly, “No, it’s real, Boo.”

“But the guys in white suits win in the end, though, don’t they?” I pleaded. “Don’t they?”

Lola just silently started getting her stuff ready for school next day.

I suddenly had to go to bed, before my brain went into total melt-down. I stumbled to my room, and I was asleep before I even hit the pillow.

As a trainee angel, you have to lead this totally double life. Next day I went to school feeling like the angel equivalent of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and received a serious shock.

While some of us had been playing thrilling cosmic war games, the rest of the class had started revising for exams.

Remember those words I mentioned? The ones which freak me out? Well for me,
exam
is right up there with
nightmare
.

That night I had my recurring one, where I’m climbing a ladder to the stars and one by one the rungs start to break off in my hand.

The famous Beeby curse had struck again.

It works like this. The more desperately I want to do well, the more incapable I am of picking up a book. The less work I do, the more desperate I become. As the days went by, I slid into a major depression.

Then one night Lola really told me off.

“You’re talking yourself into a corner, Mel. You’re not weird, you’re not doomed and you’re not alone. You’ve got me and Reuben to help you now.”

Lola’s pep-talk totally broke the spell. She seemed so confident that I could do well, I actually believed her. Night after night, Lola, Reuben and I tested each other on all the subjects Mr Allbright had taught us.

When I finally tottered into the examination hall and turned over my first exam paper, I practically fainted. I understood
all
the questions!

After the exams, a gang of us went out to Guru to celebrate. I was still fizzing with relief. “I don’t want to max it or anything,” I told Reuben. “I just don’t want the Academy to chuck me out.”

“I just hope I scrape a pass in Earth Skills, finally,” he sighed.

“Sure you will, Sweetpea!” grinned Lola. “And we’ll all zoom off to Earth together like the three cosmic musketeers!”

Hours later, I let myself back into my room, and was surprised to hear the chirp of an Agency telephone. Last time I looked, there hadn’t been a phone. Yet here it was, beside my bed.

I pressed TALK. “Um, Melanie speaking,” I said, feeling extremely silly.

“Congratulations,” said Michael. “Your Dark Study team did extremely well.”

“Oh, th-thankyou,” I stuttered.

“Now let’s see how you deal with the real thing. We don’t normally send new trainees out into the field so soon, but as you know, we’ve got a crisis on. An Agency limousine will collect you in a few minutes.”

“Oh, where are we going?” I squeaked. “I mean
when
?” I added hastily.

Michael’s voice sounded as calm as always. “You’ll be doing angel duty in the London Blitz,” he said. “1944 to be precise.”

Chapter Eight

M
inutes later I was staring into my wardrobe in deepest despair
.

Lola hammered on my door. “Melanie!” she thundered. “Get yourself out here!”

“I’m still in my party dress!” I wailed.

“The Londoners won’t care if you’re wearing Bermuda shorts and a tiara! Most humans can’t see angels, remember?”

“You’d better be right,” I muttered.

The limousine picked up Amber and the twins on the way, then sped downtown to Agency Headquarters, where Michael and Orlando were waiting.

You could tell the night staff didn’t think a girl in a sparkly mini-dress had ANY chance in the unending war against cosmic evil. But Orlando didn’t so much as blink. I don’t think he even noticed. That boy is SO on a higher level, it’s unbelievable!

I wasn’t sure how I felt about spending forty-eight hours with Orlando. Luckily I didn’t have time to panic about it, because Michael whisked us through Departures at top speed.

Then our headmaster handed out angel tags - little platinum discs on lightweight chains. When mine caught the light, I made out a tiny heavenly symbol in 3D. “These insignia show you’re on Agency business,” he explained. “They also strengthen your link with your heavenly home.”

My heavenly home
, I thought, and I was suddenly choked with emotion.

We crowded into the time portal.

“Incidentally,” said Michael casually. “I thought you’d enjoy going by the scenic route.”

The door slid shut.

“Next stop Earth,” whispered Lola.

Seconds later, the portal lit up like a Christmas tree, and we were catapulted into the slipstream of history.

These are some of the amazing sights we saw. Dinosaurs lumbering around in a steamy, tropical dinosaur world. Horsemen in hats with bizarre earflaps, galloping furiously towards a fabulous Eastern city. Egyptian slaves sweating over what would eventually turn out to be the Pyramids.

But my favourite moment had to be when we crowded into an attic in long-ago Italy, where a young man was painting by candlelight.

To my surprise, the room was already bursting with angels, all dressed in gorgeous Renaissance-type clothes - except for the chubby little cherubs, who just wore tiny wisps of gauze. The angels all had soulful eyes and dark curly hair, like Orlando. They murmured politely as we came in, then went back to zapping the artist with inspirational-type vibes.

“That’s Leonardo!” said Orlando.

Lola gasped. “Not the da Vinci guy?”

Orlando nodded. “He’s a major Agency project.”

I edged closer to Lola. “How come there’s all these like, old-fashioned angels here?”

“Sometimes Earth angels get posted back to their own time period,” she whispered. “To help out with some special mission.”

“It feels just like home,” breathed Flora.

It was true. Leonardo’s attic room had the most angel electricity flying around. I suppose that’s how he managed to stay awake all night, creating masterpieces, while everyone else in Italy just snored their heads off.

Then we were away again, whirling through history like divine dandelion seeds.

This time I got the definite sense that some historical periods were, well - DARKER than the rest. Suddenly it dawned on me that these parts just might have something to do with the Opposition. Then I wished I hadn’t had this particular thought. Because minutes later we arrived in wartime London, and there was no light anywhere.

I know it doesn’t sound very angelic, but I felt a moment of pure panic. The place looked totally empty. Then I saw dozens of feeble little torches bobbing along in the dark.

Lola froze beside me. “Why is everyone creeping about like spies?”

“It’s the blackout,” I hissed. “People aren’t allowed to show lights.”

“So what’s all that luminous spaghetti up there?” Shafts of white light were criss-crossing the rooftops.

“Searchlights,” I told her.

Amber looked impressed. “You’ve really been reading up on this.

“Not really,” I said modestly. “We did it in History. Plus I must have seen about a gazillion war films on TV.”

It’s not often I get the chance to show off my superior knowledge, Maybe I should have milked it a little longer, but I was in shock.

I totally didn’t recognise this city, with jagged spaces and wreckage, where houses ought to be. At night-time, my London blazed with every kind of light. Car headlamps, street lights, neon signs. This London was too dark and dismal for words.

There was a bomb crater right in the middle of the street. But the Londoners just calmly walked around it, like it was no big deal.

There was a sickly smell of leaking gas, plus a stench of burning that caught in my throat.

We’d landed outside a pub called the Angel. I think that was Michael’s little joke. Inside, people were having a singsong, belting out that really cheesy one about bluebirds and the cliffs of Dover.

“They’re in tremendously good spirits,” Flora commented.

My tummy looped the loop as an eerie wailing filled the air, wavering up and down the scale.

Oh-oh
, I thought,
that’s the air-raid warning
.

“We’d better get going,” said Orlando.

We joined the crowds streaming into the Underground. Immediately, just like Orlando had warned, humans were barging right through us as if we were thin air. I told myself it wasn’t personal. I’d probably walked through a few angels myself in my time.

But when we reached the platform, I almost bolted straight back up to the street. It was like the entire neighbourhood had come to spend the night in the tube. The air stank of underground trains and stale smoke, plus that sour pong of people who could use a really good wash. Friends, relations and total strangers all squashed together like factory chickens, cracking jokes and eating sandwiches, even knitting, as calmly as if they were in their own living rooms.

The younger children were mostly tucked up, fast asleep, unaware of the planes droning overhead. Except one tiny kid who couldn’t stop coughing. His cheeks were hot and red and he was getting really upset.

“Hey, short stuff!” Lola said softly. “Would you like me to fix that mean old cough?”

The little boy’s eyes opened wide. He stretched out his arms, smiling.

“He can see her!” I breathed.

“Of course he can!” said Orlando. “Toddlers are smarter than grown-ups.”

There was a huge explosion overhead. I squeaked with fright.

“Don’t tell me the Agency’s sending babies now!” said a clipped British voice. “Enjoying the pretty fireworks, darlings?”