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“TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF, Chris,” Grandma says. “I want to know more about you, sweetheart.”
That's funny. No one's ever called me sweetheart before. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I guess it's kind of nice.
“Okay.” For the sake of the old woman sitting across from me, I make myself smile. I was never too good at smiling, especially when the smile is fake. “What did you want to know?”
When I died two days ago, an angel named Amber told me I could choose between living in the dorms, or living with the grandparents I never knew, who were the parents of the father I never knew. I chose the dorms. Despite my choice, they were still interested in getting to know me, so that's why I'm here, muddling through this awkward conversation.
My grandmother asks, “What are your hobbies? What do you enjoy?”
“Not much,” I admit. She looks disappointed by my answer, so I try come up with a more satisfying one. “I like to watch movies and play video games. I guess I like to read sometimes.”
“What do you usually read?”
Somehow, I don't think she's going to appreciate my answer. “Uh... graphic novels, mostly. Sometimes horror.” I glance behind her, where my grandpa is looming in the background. He still hasn't said a word.
“How were your grades in school?” Grandma Mei was born in China, so her English is slightly accented. That's all I know about her. I know where she was born, but everything else is a mystery. I don't know anything about my father's parents because he went to jail when I was a baby. I never met him.
“My grades were pretty good.” My reply is humble, considering what I could have said. I never got anything less than an A. With my grades, I probably could've gotten into Harvard or some other Ivy League school, but with my condition, I didn't see the point. I always knew I was going to die young. I just didn't know I would die this young.
“Did you have a favorite subject?”
“Yeah. Science.”
Grandma Mei suddenly manifests a plate of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. They even look steamy, as if she just got them out of the oven. Manifestation is something that fascinates me. I learned about it from a guy who lives in my dorm, but I haven't figured out how to do it yet. Supposedly, it's one of the talents I'll be learning in school—which starts tomorrow.
Gooey white chocolate melts in my mouth as I take my first bite. For the first time ever, I actually feel like I'm in heaven, because these cookies are out of this world. I've got to learn how to do this!
“How did you die?” Mei asks.
I was afraid this topic was going to come up. I wish I'd had a glorious death. I wish I could tell her I died saving a baby from a fire or something equally heroic. That would have sounded more impressive than the truth.
“I had a rare heart disorder.”
“Ah.” Her smile flips into a frown. “I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure there are a lot of people who are missing you right now.”
Actually, there aren't many people who'll miss me. I was raised by my other grandma—Grandma Lori. Mom had me when she was a teen, but I was too much for her to handle, so she left me with Grandma. My father was considerably older and got locked up for sleeping with a minor—he never cared about me. A few months after I was born, Mom ran away with another guy. It's been a long time since I've seen her, so I barely remember what she looks like.
I had one friend I knew since kindergarten, but we drifted apart over the years. My cat probably misses me, and to be honest, I'm not sure there's anyone I miss more than Cuddleworth. He was a good boy.
“And how old are you?” Mei asks.
I don't know why she's asking that. If she wanted to, she could search for my age on those cool LightTab things we have. “Eighteen.”
My answer makes her sigh. “Eighteen. So young. What a tragedy.”
I don't really know what else to say. I've never been that good at making small talk. When I was growing up, people used to say things like, “he's such a quiet boy,” but I don't think I was that quiet. I guess I feel like most words are a waste of breath.
I make an excuse about needing to get ready for school and leave my grandparents' house with a few white chocolate cookies in my hand. My grandfather still doesn't say anything. He just gives me a slow nod as I walk past him. Maybe words are a waste of breath to him too?
I head back to my dorm, where my roommate is reading something on his LightTab. Karan is a big guy, dead at twenty-four, with the most muscular arms I've ever seen. His graphic t-shirt is about two sizes too small for him, so his biceps are bursting from the sleeves. When I enter our shared bedroom, he scowls at me behind a curtain of greasy black hair. The first time I met him, I told him Karan sounded like a girl's name, and I don't think he liked me after that. I'm not sure there's a way to get back on his good side. I'm not sure I want to try.
“So... school's tomorrow, right?” I attempt to make conversation, despite his scowl.
Karan grumbles something under his breath and swipes his LightTab's screen.
“I don't know what to expect,” I say. “Do you?”
“No,” Karan mumbles. “Now... can you be quiet, bro? I'm trying to read something.”
I give him an understanding nod as I collapse on my bed. So much for making new friends! You know, I always hoped people would be nicer in the afterlife.
I guess I was way wrong.
* * *
“IF YOUR HUMAN CHARGE prays or meditates, that may also assist communication. The process alters their brain waves, so you'll be able to hear their thoughts more clearly.”
As I listen to Tesla's lesson, my eyes couldn't get any wider. I can't believe I'm in a classroom with Nikola Tesla. The Nikola Tesla. I'm such a fan. Now, if I could bump into Stephen Hawking up here, my afterlife would be complete.
It's my second day of school, and at the end of class, I'll be assigned to an instructor. I haven't figured out how to manifest yet, unlike some of the students. I hope my teacher won't be too disappointed.
Tesla and Amber talk to us about quartz crystals, synchronicities, and ways to make contact with our human charges. I'm not sure I understand any of it, but I scribble down a bunch of notes, hoping I'll make sense of it later.
“For now, that concludes your education,” Amber says. “If your five missions are successful, you will return for an oral exam. Does anyone have any questions? ...No? Good! Then it's time to meet your spirit guide instructors. In a moment, I will be handing you a slip of paper. You'll see your guide's name, their mortal occupation and age, as well as their previous experience as a guide. You will also be given information on where to locate them.”
I watch Amber move around the room, passing out papers to students. She's really pretty, so it's hard to look away. So far, all of the angels I've met are gorgeous.
Karan gets his paper before I do. He's sitting in front of me, so I can read every word.
Name: Horatio Arrington
Last Mortal Age: 89
Occupation: Ship captain
Previous Experience: Horatio Arrington has been a spirit guide for over 50 years. He has been an instructor for 17 years. He has successfully completed 574 missions and has guided 121 mortals. His current rating is 6.7/10.
Karan looks disappointed, but I don't know why. I think it'd be pretty cool to work with a ship captain.
When Amber reaches my desk, she leans over my ear and lowers her voice. “You're a special case, Chris,” she whispers. “Do not be alarmed if your instructor is a bit... different from everyone else.”
I'm a special case? That's weird. I wonder why.
Amber puts a paper on my desk, and my eyes absorb every word.
Name: Jophiel
Last Mortal Age: n/a
Occupation: Archangel
Previous Experience: Jophiel is one of the Ancient Archangels who witnessed the creation of our world. He has successfully completed countless missions, and this is his first time as a spirit guide instructor. His current rating is 9.97/10. Present this slip of paper to the guards in front of Archangel Tower, and you will be permitted to enter.
Wait—what? My instructor is an Archangel? I glance around the room, wondering if anyone is as confused as I am.
I'm pretty sure I'm alone.