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I'VE GOTTA SAY, THE afterlife has been pretty frickin' amazing so far. I wouldn't say it's better than life on earth, because I do miss Grandpa, but there are some pretty cool perks. For starters, I love this LightTab thing. You basically have all of the knowledge in the entire universe at your disposal. It's like an upgrade on the internet. I didn't think anything could be better than the internet.
And then there's this manifestation stuff. Earlier today, I was sitting on the couch, wishing I could watch the latest season of my favorite Netflix show. All of a sudden—boom! An entire tv appeared, and all of my favorite characters were on the screen. While I was watching the show, I was spacing out and thinking to myself, “I sure would like to have a cheesy gordita crunch from Taco Bell.” A split second later, I was holding one in my hand. It was even haphazardly wrapped, as if it'd gotten it straight from the restaurant.
Grandma says I'm really advanced at manifestation, but I don't know if she's telling the truth. She was the sort of grandma who would overpraise my doodles when I was five years old, so how do I ever know she's telling the truth? Still, I have to admit, manifestation does seem to come easy to me. I don't even have to try that hard. Everything I want appears in front of me, as if by magic.
It's nice to be able to hang out with Grandma again, but there's one shocker I didn't expect. She's not in love with Grandpa anymore. According to her, they had separated a few months before the car accident that took her life. I had no idea. Even though she was dead for several years, Grandpa never told me they split up. I guess he was trying to protect me from the truth.
Grandma dropped the bomb on me in the weirdest possible way. We were watching Netflix, talking about spirit school, and she suddenly admitted that she fell in love with her instructor. As strange as that sounds, I guess it's not that uncommon for instructors to hook up with their students. Back on earth, that kind of thing would totally get you fired.
Today is my third day of spirit school, and it's supposed to be a big one. Today I'll be meeting my instructor. I feel a little nervous about it, but I'm trying to keep my cool.
Over breakfast, I ask, “Grandma... who is Tesla?” I hope that's not a stupid question. He was our guest teacher yesterday, and he was supposed to be important, but I had no idea who he was. The only Tesla I've heard about is a car.
“You've never heard of Nikola Tesla before?” Grandma's sigh is so big, it makes me feel like a complete idiot. “How can you not know Tesla?”
“I mean... I think I've heard his name before, but I couldn't tell you anything about him.” I do a search for Tesla on my LightTab, hoping to educate myself, but I get stuck on his pictures. He's kind of handsome in a science-y, lanky, older man kind of way.
When Grandma insists on walking me to school, I feel like I'm in kindergarten again. The last time I saw her, I was in kindergarten, so maybe I shouldn't be too surprised.
Grandma says, “I want you to meet my boyfriend soon... if you don't think that would be too strange?”
“Why would it be strange?” Nothing could be stranger than the fact that Grandma looks about thirty years old again. If I can handle that, I can handle anything. I guess you can alter your appearance in the afterlife, but I wish she hadn't done that. It feels more like I'm hanging out with an older sister now.
“I know you wish I was still with Grandpa,” she says. “I wouldn't want you to be upset.”
“Nah, it wouldn't make me upset. Bring it on. I'd like to meet him.”
When I'm about a block away from school, Grandma and I part ways and promise to have dinner together later. It's supposed to be my last day in a classroom, and I'm okay with that, because I'm eager to become a spirit guide. I've always liked helping people, so this job sounds perfect for me.
We get our final lessons from an angel named Amber, who teaches us about warping. Then we practice manifestation with an Archangel named Ariel, who literally looks like she stepped out of a Disney movie. I've seen a few angels, and they all look ridiculously pretty. Good looks must be a requirement or something. I guess I'll never be an angel, plain as I am.
Finally, at the end of the day, it's time to meet our potential instructors. About twenty motley people file into the room, and I guess they're all from different time periods, because some of their clothes are highly unusual. There's a guy in a kilt, a girl in a toga, and an old man dressed up like a medieval knight. There's even a guy in an eighteenth century powdery wig who reminds me of George Washington. Some of the instructors look totally normal, but at least half of them are rocking clothes from different eras.
Amber drifts around the room, dropping a slip of paper on every desk. This paper is supposed to tell us about our instructor, but mine his highly unusual.
Name: Sander Phelan
Last Mortal Age: N/A
Occupation: N/A
That tells me nothing, and something seems off, so I compare my paper with the old guy sitting next to me.
Name: Donna Day
Last Mortal Age: 66
Occupation: High School Principal
Previous Experience: Donna Day has been a spirit guide for 15 years. She has been an instructor for 3 years. She has successfully completed 348 missions and has guided 56 mortals. Her current rating is 8.1/10.
What the heck? Why is there so much information about Donna and zero information about this Sander Phelan guy? Is he new? Was he unemployed all his life? I want to ask Amber why my instructor is a mystery, but I can't bring myself to do it. She's an angel, and for obvious reasons, I find that highly intimidating.
I feel a little less annoyed when I find out what Sander looks like. He's pretty—like, really, really pretty. He's so pretty, I could see myself having a hard time concentrating on our missions. I feel shallow for thinking this, but I've got a really attractive instructor. I don't want to hook up with him like Grandma hooked up with hers or anything like that, but if Sander's nice to look at, I'm not complaining.
Some of the students and instructors arrange to meet later, but Sander comes to me right after class. When he offers me a hand, I'm momentarily stunned, because even his hands look perfect.
“I'm Sander,” he introduces himself. “And you're Mikayla, yes?”
“Uh... yeah.” I sound deadpan, but I'm not. It's more like I'm stunned. I'm still trying to process how cute this guy is. His hair is really blonde, and I would swear there's a golden glow around his head. Maybe it's his aura? I've heard about auras before, but I wasn't sure they were a real thing—until this moment.
“So... we'll be working together from now on,” Sander states the obvious. “Would you like to start tomorrow, or should we begin right away?”
Sander looks like he should smell like clean laundry or honey or something like that. I probably shouldn't be thinking about how a guy smells as soon as I meet him, but I can't help it. I blame his face for these thoughts.
“Mikayla?” When he tries to get my attention, I realize I've failed to answer his question. “Should we begin our first mission today, or would you rather wait until tomorrow?”
“Now is good,” I reply. “I've been looking forward to this, so I say we dive right in.”
Sander touches my arm, and in the time it takes to blink, we're standing in a totally different place, and I know where we are. I've been here before, albeit in a video game. It's hard to forget the red, egg-shaped dome of Florence's Duomo.
“Oh my god, this is Florence!” I exclaim. “Florence, Italy!” I know I sound like an overexcited dork, but I've never been out of the United States before, and I've definitely never been to Italy.
“You are correct,” Sander replies in the poshest British accent. It's kind of cute.
“And I'm really, like... a ghost?” I ask.
I don't think spirits are too fond of the word ghost, but I feel like it fits. Sander is definitely not fond of the word, because his nose even wrinkles. “Um... sort of.”
“So... no one can see me?” To test my theory, I jump in front of an Italian man who looks vaguely like Luigi from Mario Brothers, then I stick out my tongue and blow raspberries at him. He doesn't notice me, or even glance up from his phone. “Wow... this is cool.”
“Calm yourself, Mikayla,” Sander says.
Calm myself? I don't think I was being un-calm, I think I was just excited. Ignoring his criticism, I say, “You can call me Mikey, if you want. That's what all my friends call me.”
“Does that mean you already count me as a friend? I'm honored.”
Sander starts reading something on his LightTab. When I try to sneak a peek at the screen, he removes it from my eyesight's range. While he's busy, I dash into the crowded street to test another theory of mine. Vespas, cars, and even a huge truck blow right through my body. Nothing in this world can hit me.
“Mikayla!” Sander cries. “Mikayla, what are you doing? Get out of the street at once!”
“Sorry.” I mutter my apology and hurry back to his side. “I just wanted to see if the cars would pass through me or if I'd get hit.”
“That was incredibly reckless of you!” Sander scolds me. He's already had to scold me twice, and I should probably feel bad about that. “Humans and their machines cannot hurt you, but do not assume you're completely invulnerable. Certain elements, other spirits, and shadowlings can all do harm to you.”
I tilt my head and ask, “Shadowlings?”
“That is a lesson for another day,” Sander says. “For now, we should focus on our mission. I need to discuss our—”
“I played Assassin's Creed a lot,” I suddenly blurt. “Like... a lot a lot.” Every time I look at these red Florentine rooftops, I want to run and jump all over them like the character in that game.
As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I'm transported to a random rooftop. A scream flies out of me, and I almost lose my balance.
“Mikey!” Sander calls to me. “Mikey, get down here! What are you doing?”
“Sorry! I didn't mean to do this!” I tiptoe across the roof, wincing as I walk. I have no idea how I got up here, and I have no idea how to get down. “If I fall... I can't get hurt, right?”
“No, you can't get hurt.” In the middle of his reply, blinding white wings appear on Sander's back, and he flies up to rescue me from the rooftop.
“Sorry,” I apologize again, more sheepishly than before. He's had to lecture me three times now. He probably thinks I'm a pain in the ass. “I was just thinking about walking on the roof and bam... my wish was granted.”
“You warped,” Sander says. I hear a pleasant flutter from his wings as he carries me down to safety. “I have to say, that's very intriguing. It's very rare for a new student to warp so soon.”
“Grandma says I'm advanced at manifestation too.” I hope it doesn't sound like I'm boasting, because there's nothing more annoying than a braggart. “I just think about stuff, and it appears.”
“That's impressive. And if that's true, you should be mindful of your thoughts.”
Sander sets me on my feet and smooths a wrinkle from his plain white shirt. I don't know why, but I've always thought there was something sexy about a guy in a simple white t-shirt.
I tell him, “I didn't realize you had wings. I thought only angels had wings.”
“In most cases... yes. But some advanced spirits can also have them.”
“Is that what you are?” I ask. “An advanced spirit?”
He doesn't answer my question. Instead, he takes my arm and leads me away from the area.
“Let's just focus on our mission,” Sander suggests. “We can learn more about each other later on.”