Jonah slowly turned the doorknob, trying to make the door open as quietly as possible. He hoped that his father was already in bed. Ever since he had decided to stay in Peacefield and not return to Angel School, Jonah had found himself avoiding his dad. It wasn’t a conscious decision as much as something that had begun slowly and now had become normal. Jonah wasn’t even sure why.
His dad seemed to oblige him in this, though, by turning in early most nights or staying in his office with the door pulled shut. When they did speak, it was more than likely to be an argument.
He shut the door and tiptoed past his dad’s study. He heard some papers rattle and then suddenly stop. Jonah waited for a few seconds in the hallway. No movement inside, no noise. He knew what was happening. His dad was waiting to see if Jonah was going to come in. But he wasn’t calling to him. Jonah imagined himself walking into his dad’s office and them embracing in a long-overdue hug. Then he pictured them having a massive screaming match, ending with him barricading himself in his room.
Jonah sighed. He knew his dad was hurting too. He’d lost his wife, the love of his life. But I lost someone important to me too.
He pushed aside the impulse to go in, and went to his own room, shutting the door behind him.
Falling down on his pillow, he played the game back through his head. He couldn’t even keep track of all the fast breaks, layups, and slam dunks he made. But then he thought about what the angels had said. Their voices lingered in his mind, even though he forcibly tried to push the thoughts out. Why should they try to keep him from having some fun and enjoying himself? Hadn’t he been through enough this year already? Wasn’t it all right to enjoy some popularity for a change? His phone was beeping, and he reached for it, realizing he had nine text messages from different friends at school, congratulating him on the game. He clicked through them slowly, savoring the words, and responded to a few.
But Henry’s comments wouldn’t leave him alone. “You’re drawing unnecessary attention to yourself. People are beginning to notice.”
He tossed his phone back down on his bed and shifted uncomfortably on his pillow. As much as he tried, he couldn’t get away from it. Why did those angels have to come anyway?
He grabbed the phone again and opened it up to his photos. Locating the folder marked “Mom,” he flipped slowly through the pictures. The family portrait they used for Christmas cards three years ago; a shot of Eleanor and Benjamin, smiling, holding Jonah when he was a baby; one of him and his mom, her arms draped around his neck, at the park. He paused on this one for a while, touching the screen softly with his thumb. It was as close as he could come to touching her now.
He felt the tears well up in his eyes, and he threw the phone back onto the bed and went to take a shower. He wished his mom had seen him play tonight. He wanted to talk to her again, just hear her voice. He wished she were here.
He made the water as hot as he could stand and covered his face with a washcloth, trying to muffle his sobs as he leaned against the tile wall.
“How’d the game go last night?”
His dad was fiddling around in the kitchen, fixing coffee and cereal and opening drawers until he found what he needed. Jonah watched his dad fumble through the kitchen almost every morning, wondering when he would ever figure out where everything was. Mr. Stone finally found a packet of sugar, ripped the top off, and poured the contents into his steaming mug.
“It went okay.” Jonah shrugged. “Not that you would know.”
It was an open invitation to a fight, and he couldn’t resist the barb, even though he felt bad as soon as he said it. His dad eyed him from behind his thick glasses, but pursed his lips and said nothing, suddenly seeming to take great interest in stirring his coffee.
Jonah opened his mouth to say something, perhaps apologize, but then decided against it. He stepped past his father, reaching into the cabinet to grab a granola bar. Snagging a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he mumbled a good-bye, slung his knapsack on his back, and bolted for the door.
“Good morning, Jonah,” came a voice from above. Cassandra, the Stone family guardian angel, was sitting in her usual morning spot, perched in the tree in the front yard.
He glanced up at her but kept walking. “You know I’m trying to ignore you, right?”
She smiled, waving to him. “Oh, I’ve gotten that message, loud and clear.”
“Well”—he turned around—“why do you keep bugging me then? Can’t you guys see I’m doing just fine?”
Cassandra eyed him thoughtfully. “I just want you to know that I’m not ignoring you.”
He waved her off and picked up his bike out of the yard. “I need to go to school. How about not following me, okay?”
Jonah knew he couldn’t tell the angels what to do any more than he could tell Elohim what to do, but maybe she would listen today. He pushed off on his bike and pedaled himself into the street.
He was a sophomore at Peacefield High School, but ever since he made the basketball team and had starred in the last five games—all wins—he had been treated like the king of the campus. As soon as he pulled his bike up to the rack and locked it down, a couple of senior guys came over to congratulate him on last night’s game. Three girls, all members of the cheerleading squad, scampered over, gushing about it too. He felt his face grow hot and flushed, but he talked to them for a few minutes before he walked into school.
All of the newfound attention made it easy to ignore what he could still see—the things no one else could, the spiritual creatures in the hidden realm. Across the lawn, he saw something small and black clamped onto the back of a tall boy with a downcast face who was walking on the sidewalk. Pulling his eyes away, Jonah tried to forget the image.
But as he walked into the hallway full of students at their lockers loudly milling around, waiting for the morning bell to ring, he couldn’t help but see the rest.
There was another fallen angel draped across a girl’s shoulders. And one was whispering into a kid’s ear as he walked down the hall. Yet another was flying from kid to kid, taunting each in turn. As Jonah approached, the fallen angel locked eyes with him, glaring. And then, grinning wildly, it moved on, continuing to work on the unsuspecting students.
This was the scene Jonah walked into every day now. Once the Fallen realized he wasn’t going to do anything, they had become very bold.
Jonah veered off from the crowd and headed to his locker.
“Boy, things sure have changed around here,” Tariq said from behind him. Jonah saw his friend watching the junior varsity cheer squad walk down the hall.
“Yeah,” Jonah answered, his mind distracted by the flying fallen angel still tormenting kids in the hallway. “I guess so.”
“Uh-oh,” mumbled Tariq, who was suddenly more interested in his locker than the cheerleaders.
Jonah saw why. Zack Smellman, Carl Fong, and Peter Snodgrass were making a beeline for them, each with identical scowls on their faces. Fong and Snodgrass both grabbed one of Tariq’s shoulders and slammed him against his locker, and then held him flat against it.
“I think you and I need to have a little conversation,” sneered Zack, right up in Tariq’s face, “about how much money you owe me.”
“Oww! Let go!” the much smaller Tariq said. “This isn’t your school or your hallway! I can do whatever I want—”
“Hi, guys,” interrupted Jonah, smiling at the three boys. They seemed to notice him for the first time. The boys immediately let go of Tariq, who rubbed his shoulders. “Is there some kind of problem here that I can help with?”
“Jonah!” Zack said with a sheepish grin. “We didn’t see you standing there. I guess we were focused on our friend Tariq here, who owes us some money.”
“Friend, huh?” Jonah said, slapping his hand firmly on Zack’s arm. “Didn’t seem too friendly there, Zack.”
“Ha.” He laughed, patting Tariq on the arm gently and straightening his shirt for him. “We were just messing around, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Jonah said, stepping a little closer, towering over them with his lanky frame.
“But you know,” Zack said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I think we’re good with Tariq, don’t you, boys?”
His underlings looked at him blankly, confused, but slowly nodded.
“Good game last night,” Zack said as they walked away. “Really awesome. Way to go.” He smiled again, waved at Jonah and Tariq, and pulled the other two down the hallway with him.
Tariq blinked up at Jonah. “Well, that was . . . different.”
Jonah slapped his friend on the back as they began to walk toward their first-period class together. “Welcome to a new day, my friend,” he said, smiling. “Now, why exactly do they think you owe them money?”
Jonah listened to Tariq’s long-winded explanation as they walked along, something about a booming but not-exactly-in-the-school-rules candy bar selling business, and Zack demanding protection money, threatening to either beat him up or go to the principal if he didn’t pay.
Jonah nodded, halfway listening, but with the rest of his mind in a different place. He had passed by no less than four more fallen angels, and each one had given him the same look as the first.
We’re killing these kids, and you’re not going to do one thing about it . . .
After Jonah’s fifth-period class, he ran by the boys’ bathroom. As he was washing his hands, something in the mirror caught his eye and he looked up. To his surprise, his face—and everything else he saw—melted away. In its place, another face came into view.
It was Eliza, with her face drawn up and tight. She looked concerned and like she was searching for something. Jonah reached his hand out to touch the mirror, but then the scene switched. Jeremiah was there now, walking, and alone. He shivered against a chilly wind but kept moving forward. He was searching for something too.
Jonah blinked and saw his own face again.
He glanced around to make sure no one else was watching him. He quickly threw some water on his face, shook his head a couple of times, and hurried back into the hallway.
10:19 p.m.
Hey, Everything’s good here. Not too much going on. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Getting to school on time, doing my homework—you know, all of the stuff you would be worried about. Dad is good, I think. We haven’t talked a lot lately. But basketball is awesome—did you see the article in the Peacefield News sports page about me? Hope you guys are okay. Tell little bro hello, and that next time I see him he will get the biggest wedgie of his life.
Later, Jonah