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MY NAME IS LEIGH RILEY. I'm seventeen years old. I'm standing in front of a church at half past midnight, looking at my corpse.
Yeah, that's right. I'm dead. At least, I think I'm dead. If I'm not dead, I'm having the weirdest out of body experience anyone's ever had. I can't really think of another reason why I would be staring at my broken, twisted, bloody body.
Death has terrible timing. In three weeks, I was going to be a high school graduate. Everyone always said I had a bright future ahead of me. I busted my ass to get into Yale, but none of that matters now. As soon as I was hit by the truck, everything I've ever done was for nothing.
I turn my attention to the idiots who hit me: Aidan and Geoff. They're both drunk—not that it makes a difference. With or without alcohol, they're awful human beings, and there's no excuse for what they did to me.
“Shit, man... do you think she's dead?” Geoff squawks. The sound of my bones crunching under his truck's monstrous tires seems to have sobered him up a bit. He moves a bit closer to my motionless body and leans over my face. “Oh shit. I think she is!”
“Do you think we should call someone?” Aidan asks. He looks a little less panicked than Geoff, but he's no less pale. He probably thinks he's less culpable because he wasn't the driver, but I blame them both.
“Are you kidding me, man? Hell no!” Geoff shoves him in the direction of the truck. “We've got to get out of here!”
“Seriously?”
“Uh... yeah. Or do you want everyone to find out we killed a girl?”
“You killed a girl,” Aidan corrects him—but like I said, he's responsible too. Aidan was the one who started pestering me, and Geoff joined in.
Long story short: my best friend wouldn't give me a ride home, so I left her party at midnight. My parents would have been livid if I got home much later than that, but walking alone in the middle of the night was a huge mistake. Geoff pulled up to me, Aidan begged me to get into the truck, and I refused. When I heard the vehicle revving up, I ran into the church parking lot, hoping to escape.
But I didn't escape. Obviously. When I swerved, they swerved, and before I knew it, I was standing over my lifeless body. I was killed by two of the biggest jerks in high school.
“Dude, just go!” Geoff insists as he gives his idiot friend another push. “We need to leave. I'm serious. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in prison, bro!”
As I watch them climb into Geoff's truck, I can feel my nose puckering. In my opinion, he deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison. Being dead hasn't really cooled my rage. I thought it would make me more forgiving or loving—or something—but it hasn't. Now, more than ever, I'd like to punch those douchebags in the face.
“What now?” I whisper to myself as the truck pulls away. I don't see any white light and I don't hear a choir of angels. There's no pearly gate, god, or friendly family member to greet me. I'm not surprised by the last one, because I'm actually the first in my immediate family to die. Believe it or not, all of my grandparents outlived me. I even have a great-grandmother who's still alive. I genuinely don't know any dead people. None. Does that make me lucky or unlucky right now?
“Leigh?”
When I hear someone say my name, I heave a lengthy sigh of relief. I don't care who it is, I'm just glad I'm not alone right now.
“Leigh Riley,” the female voice repeats my name. When I turn around, I'm staring into the golden brown eyes of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She looks about thirty, give or take a few years. Her skin is deep mahogany, her smile is warm and welcoming, and her hair is a chaos of delightful black coils. She even smells lovely, like vanilla and lavender, but sweeter. No pun intended, but I'm dying to know her.
“Yeah. I'm Leigh,” I introduce myself, then I ask a question with an obvious answer. “Am I... dead?”
“I don't like the word dead. It suggests an end to your existence, but the fact is... you're still very much alive,” the woman tells me. “You've taken on a new form. A new frequency. You're existing in a different dimension. It's nothing to be afraid of, and it's nothing to mourn. I promise.”
“O... kay.” I know I sound doubtful. If she wants to convince me, she'll have to try harder, because I'm feeling pretty bummed about this. I don't want to leave my friends and family behind! This is terrible!
“I suppose I should introduce myself.” The woman suddenly thrusts out a hand. “I'm Amber. The angel, Amber.”
As I shake her hand, my mind is stuck on a single word. “Angel?”
“Yes, dear. I'm an angel.” Amber's smile broadens, suggesting a pride in her role.
“But don't angels have... wings?” I ask.
“Indeed. I do have wings,” Amber assures me. “But most of the time, I don't have them out. They're a bit of a burden, if I'm being honest. They're large and cumbersome, and I rarely need them.”
“Really?” My forehead crinkles at the thought. “But... I always thought it would be pretty awesome to have wings?”
“Oh, it is. For the first ten minutes,” Amber laughs. Her laughter is one of the most pleasant sounds I've ever heard. It's gentle and smoky. It's exactly the sort of laugh I'd expect from an angel. “You'll eventually have a chance to earn your own wings, and when you do, you'll see what I mean. The novelty wears off.”
“I can become an angel?”
“Of course. But you shouldn't get too far ahead of yourself. First, you'll have to become a spirit guide... which, naturally, you'll want to do. Oh!” Amber suddenly points over my shoulder. For the first time, I notice the bald, middle-aged guy sitting on the church steps. For some reason, he's crying. “You should meet your spirit guide, George.”
“Nooo!” George wails. “She shouldn't meet me! I don't deserve it! I failed!”
“Umm...” Amber nervously nibbles her lip. “That's George. You're not seeing him at his best right now, I'm afraid.”
“Uh huh.” I scratch my head as I watch him sob. “Why's he having a meltdown?”
“I think he believes he's let you down,” Amber explains. “It was his job to protect you and... well...”
“I failed!” the bellowing George repeats. “I failed, I failed, I failed! I'm a complete and total failure! I hate myself!”
“He, uh...” Amber's teeth clench as she struggles to explain my spirit guide's self-loathing. “George hasn't been on his own for very long. In fact, you were his first solo mission, so... I think he's feeling pretty bad about your death.”
“Bad? I feel awful!” George attempts to clear his blocked nose with a tremendous snort. “I'm so sorry, Leigh! I'm so sorry!”
I don't want to make George feel worse, so I decide to change the subject. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I ask, “So... those guys who killed me... will they ever be punished for that, or will they get away with it?”
“On earth or in the afterlife?” Amber asks.
“Umm... both?”
“I'm afraid I can't answer that.” Sensing my disappointment, Amber gives me a pat on the shoulder. “But you shouldn't worry about them. Not yet.”
“How can I not worry about them?” I'm wrestling with a strong need to gouge out their eyes. They've taken away everything. They stole my future. Thanks to them, I'm a sad, dead virgin who never had a boyfriend. Is there anything more pathetic than that?
“Oh, I don't know. Just... try not to be too upset.”
My eyes roll at Amber's remark. “Seriously, how can I not be upset? What about my family? Will I ever get to see them again?” My little sister is going to be wrecked by this. I'm her best friend. She doesn't really have anyone else.
“Yes. You'll see them again... but you'll have to wait. I know how it feels. Trust me. When I died, I had to leave my husband and child behind. It devastated me. But... now I'm with them all the time.”
“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better.” My shoulders pop into a slight shrug as I try to accept my fate. Behind me, I can still hear George's sobs. I think my spirit guide is taking this way harder than I am.
“Well then...” Amber begins, “if you have no more pressing questions, it's time to take you away.”
I try to guess our destination. “To... Heaven?”
“Indeed. That's one name for it. If Heaven is what you call it, that's perfectly acceptable.” Amber smiles at me. “Our destination has many names. Heaven, Nirvana, Elysium, Paradise. The Other Side. We usually refer to it by whatever name makes people comfortable.”
“What do you call it?” I ask, hoping for some insight.
“What do I call it?” As she repeats my question, Amber's smile morphs into a cheeky grin. “My dear... I call it Home.”