The Laws of Divine Purpose
1. No angels shall manifest to show their true image to a human.
2. No angels shall ever harm any humans.
3. No angels shall be claimed by name addressed from a human.
4. No angels shall tell the secrets of paradise to a human.
5. No angels shall physically touch a human.
6. No angels shall fall in love with a human.
IF ANY OR ALL LAWS ARE BROKEN, THE ANGEL WILL BE STRIPPED OF HIS OR HER WINGS AND FORCED TO START OVER AS A LIVING PURPOSE.
I remember the first time I heard his voice.
When I was five, I started kindergarten. All the kids didn't want to hang out with me because I told them that I didn't like jelly beans. They said I was a freak. No one wanted to be my friend. No one for all six years of elementary. Because of jelly beans. I remember how the kids would frame me for their mistakes and just being one person against many, I could do nothing. The teachers said I was a problem child, even though all the problems weren't mine to begin with. I was about to break down, but a gentle voice chided over me,
Hold on... to your innocence... Don't let them... take it... from you.
At home, when I was nine, my mom was taking care of my baby brother and bossy sister, never having time for me. My dad was always at work or sleeping. I would play in the backyard by myself. Almost by myself. I imagined my backyard as a jungle. All the insects and trees and green scenery. The flowers that grew on the fence looked beautiful in all their different colors. I was hungry and picked the petals off of them and ate it. Creepy, yes, but then, it seemed.. natural. Soft and cool under my tongue, they tasted like jolly ranchers.
Eat all you want to satisfy your hunger, my Audrey. I will suffer for you, for I cannot die.
A girl in my 10th grade class told me the flower petals I ate when I was younger were fatally poisonous. She also wrinkled her nose and called me a Weirdo.
My last summer. I was going to my senior year of high school and I was about to turn 17. Riding my bike through my neighborhood, I thought about all of this. That voice. The voice that whispered to me when I was little. The voice that would say one phrase an disappear for years. The voice that kept me from breaking. That voice was a figment of my imagination.
When I got home, my parents were screaming at each other. I quietly turned, making a bee-line to the bedroom, any bedroom, but I saw my little siblings in the hallway. My twelve year old sister blocking my five year old brother's eyes. My sister's worried expression jump from where my parents were to me.
I couldn't let them watch this. They don't deserve it.
I shooed them into my bedroom and, instructing from the hallway, told them to turn onto Disney. The previous channel was the History Channel.
I took this opportunity to lock myself in the bathroom and looked at the person on the other side of the mirror. My hands were flat and pushing the counter to keep myself up.
I can't do anything right. I try to preserve as much innocence in my younger siblings as I can but I can't even save myself. I want to do something against the rules, myself. I want to put pounds of make-up on and worry about how much the guys will want me instead of worrying about whether that spider I found inside the house the other day is living well on the front porch. I want to put on a scary movie, order pizza, and tell my younger siblings to leave me alone instead of playing hide-and-seek with them and eating ice cream afterwards. I want to belong with the popular kids for once.
My arms started shaking. I continued to stare at myself.
Instead, I'm a freak.
The next day was Saturday. Saturday morning, all the cool kids at my school go to one of the most beautiful places in town and order sodas at an outside cafe there. They trash on anyone from school that dresses poorly or doesn't walk right or has ugly parents, then they compliment people that they owe favors to or friends or beautiful people. I want to be complimented.
I woke up early and took a shower. Using my Mom's diverse hair products, I blow dried my hair then I straightened it. I added a clip on one side because it had a cute design of fake-diamond encrusted red ladybugs on it. I added mascara, lip gloss, and the most complicated ever-- eyeliner. When I was finished, I didn't look like odd little Audrey Frye who's last name is almost as bad as Buttkiss. I looked like one of the popular girls that just arrived from France.
I put on faded jean Dixie shorts, ones my Mom bought me a ear ago thinking I might be confident enough to wear them one day, a tight gray shirt that said "And NY Loves Me" diagonally in quick yellow cursive, and a light blue golf hat, I think it's called that. I love that hat. The shorts came faded, the hat took time to turn. I wore white Hawaiian-like braided and half-inched heeled sandals I bought for the summer. I got on my bike, my small silver purse I only used once at a wedding was at my shoulder, holding my keys and my wallet. I slipped on my mom's brown shades and took off.
I will not be a "Wierdo" or "Freak" anymore.
I made it to the cafe. They were there, picking out the people and snickering. I parked my bike at the bike rack and chained it. As I walked past their table, I made sure to walk properly and I was alert, focusing on every little thing around me. This. This was the moment of truth.
I was having doubts. What if people don't like you even if you try to be beautiful? Then you can't impress anybody. You're only purpose would to be Mom's means of child support so she can go to these outside cafes and probably do the same thing.
My pace slowed to a stop. I looked down at the ground, my eyes jumping everywhere.
Could my own mother be one of THEM? She couldn't do such a heartless thing. What if she could? What would she say about my dress? She'd probably snicker and say, "a French barrette? Are you serious? What does THAT have anything to do with New York loving you? It should be 'I Love F, Because F stands for "FAIL"!'" I scanned my outfit one more time. From here it looks really nice but to them it could be a fashion disaster. I sighed and turned around, heading back to my bike. I bumped into Fabio. The lead soccer player at our school. No one in the county can beat him down. His ice blue eyes drank my appearance in and his curly black hair seemed wet. I didn't know whether to be please or grossed out by this.
"Yo." he said.
"..." I waited for my cheeks to turn, but some quiet part inside of me thought that whatever was going through his mind was barbaric, "It's 'Good morning.'"
He half-smiled. My heart fluttered a little. Does he think I'm funny?
"I'm sorry, ma'am--" --flutter-- "--Good morning. Isn't this weather lovely?" he asked, mocking his own English language. Proper English, to be exact. Not American, like when he said "Yo."
"It's lovely weather." I said, trying to pass him to get to my bike. "Hey," His arm flew up, blocking the side I was trying to pass. I looked up at him. He was grinning. "You want to go somewhere next weekend? I mean--" He looked down at my body then back at me "--I'd love to, if you want to." Fear. I'm feeling fear.
He put his arm down and stepped closer to me, just an inch from pressing his body onto mine. I took a step back. He smiled again before speaking, "To the club--"
"No thanks, I.. I'm allergic."
He laughed. My heart fluttered, but died at the end. Do I like this guy? I know I don't like him, but does my body?
"Then one of those drive-in movie theatres? There's only two left in the state and I can get us in for free." He stepped closer to me again, "Or are you allergic to that too?"
That whisper! I've heard it when I was little. It was trying to tell me something. It's been so long since I heard that voice, all this time I pretended that I imagined it. I haven't heard that voice so long. Why did it leave me? Maybe I'm imagining it again. Maybe it's my own voice but I'm pretending like it's someone else's --has to be.
"That's fine." I said, stepping back, to find myself back against the restaurant wall.
"Can I have your number, pretty lady?" he asked, probably sensing my fear because he stepped back and pulled out his cellphone. The newest version of the iPhone. He was definitely a popular kid. I averted my attention to the popular kid's table. They were all looking at me. The girls seemed jealous and the other guys were grinning like idiots.
I gave Fabio my cell phone number and her gave me his. He told me his name was Fabio, which I already knew. I saved his number under the name 'Pea.' I think pea is the name meaning for Fabio. He then asked for mine. I'm the only girl in school with my name. Should I lie? No. I... I can't.
"Audrey." I said.
He nearly dropped his phone, "Scarecrow?!"
My nickname at school is Scarecrow? That's.. very.. "Creative." I dully replied even though inside I was an avalanche. I was finally able to pass the stunned Fabio and unlocked my bike.
"Audrey, wait!--" Fabio called from behind me but it was too late. I hopped onto my bike and raced home, not caring if I cried under my shades because I was safe behind them. I can be weak now.
Without a word I went straight to my room and tore off the hat, shoes, and sunglasses. I jumped on my bed and hugged my pillow. I didn't want to cry anymore. In fact, my intial feeling was fear. What will happen when I go to school on Monday? They'll pick on me. They'll definitely pick on me. I shut my eyes and dug my head into my pillow. My eyes watered.
My eyes opened in a flash, already scanning the room. I lifted my head and looked around. I wasn't going to let this voice disappear from me anymore. Not when I needed him the most. My eyebrows furrowed when I discovered that I was alone and my door was locked. Is something wrong with me? Am I really hearing voices?
Audrey... do not... cry...
"Where are you?" I whispered, wiping an escaped tear from my cheek. "What are you?" The last part I said to myself, "Am I... crazy?"
I am everywhere... I am... here... for you... you... are perfect. ...(hn).. sane.
Did he just laugh? My heart grew very hot and beated faster. I didn't have this feeling around Fabio but I have it now. It feels like my heart fell into boiling water and the hot blood I'm pumping now is fixed with sugar and love and everything good in the world. I felt the blood rise to my face and flush out my cheeks. Is this voice my conscience? I blushed even more, if it was my conscience, then the voice wouldn't sound like it belonged to a male around my age group. "Why are you here?"
I am here... for you... to protect... Audrey...
"What do you want from me?"
I do not want... anything from you... unless you chose... to give it to me... all I want... ...is for Audrey... to be happy...
This voice was getting closer and closer to my ear but the source of the voice was indistinguishable. My heart was beating so fast, I tried to press my chest with my hand to calm it down but to no avail. How can an invisible man make me feel like this? Who is he? "Who are you?"
His deep, sincere voice brushed up against my ear as he whispered,
I am... your guardian... angel.
Corey's two cents:
Before you blow your head off, relax, give me the gun, there will be a chapter two... or three. Okay, so it's a short story dedicated to one of my close friends, Reid Simpson. I am working very, veryhard to keep this story as short as possible. IF you want to know what suprises rest within the walls of delicious chapter two, well, let me give you some spoilers: She sees her guardian angel aaand guess who calls little miss Outcast Audrey to set up that date? Review, favor, alert, I don't care what you do, you make me happy just knowing that whoever reads this likes it and that's all that matters.
By the way, have you thanked your guardian angel?