Chapter One
As the last bell of the day rang, angel sullivan sat quietly in herseat in the last row of Mr. English's room and waited for herclassmates to disappear before she even started stowing her books inher backpack. Finally, when even the chatter in the corridor outsidethe room had died down, she stood up to pull on her jacket.
"You okay, Angel?" the teacher asked, peering worriedly at her frombehind his desk.
Okay? she repeated silently to herself. How could she be okay afterwhat had happened this morning? And if Mr. English didn't know whatwas wrong, how was she going to explain it to him? After all, it hadhappened right there during the first period, just before the bellsounded, when Mr. English asked the class if they wanted to sing"Happy Birthday" to her. "Happy Birthday," like it was still thirdgrade! Didn't he know that none of her classmates even spoke to herexcept to say mean things? So there she'd sat, in her seat in thelast row, her face burning with embarr
Chapter One
As the last bell of the day rang, angel sullivan sat quietly in herseat in the last row of Mr. English's room and waited for herclassmates to disappear before she even started stowing her books inher backpack. Finally, when even the chatter in the corridor outsidethe room had died down, she stood up to pull on her jacket.
"You okay, Angel?" the teacher asked, peering worriedly at her frombehind his desk.
Okay? she repeated silently to herself. How could she be okay afterwhat had happened this morning? And if Mr. English didn't know whatwas wrong, how was she going to explain it to him? After all, it hadhappened right there during the first period, just before the bellsounded, when Mr. English asked the class if they wanted to sing"Happy Birthday" to her. "Happy Birthday," like it was still thirdgrade! Didn't he know that none of her classmates even spoke to herexcept to say mean things? So there she'd sat, in her seat in thelast row, her face burning with embarrassment as a horrible silencefell over the room and half the class turned to stare at her. Theonly thing that saved her from bursting into tears of humiliationwas that the bell had rung. Then everyone rushed for the door.
And now Mr. English wanted to know if she was okay?
Biting her lip but saying nothing, she hurried toward the door andthe safety of the corridor beyond, which with any luck would now beempty.
"Angel?"
She heard Mr. English, but was already out of the room, the doorswinging shut behind her.
Angel. What kind of name was Angel?
For a long time-well, maybe not all that long, but for a while,anyway-she had thought it was a wonderful name, maybe the mostwonderful name in the world. Even now, memories of phrases from whenshe was barely more than a baby echoed softly in her mind.
Daddy's little Angel.
Mommy's little Angel.
Grammy's perfect little Angel.
It had been Grammy who gave her the very first Halloween costume shecould remember. It was a white dress that Angel was certain had beenmade of satin but her mother insisted was only cheap muslin. But itdidn't matter, because it had white sequins sewn all over it thatglittered even when she was standing as still as she possibly could.On the back of the dress there were two wings Grammy had made ofpapier-mbchi and then covered with white feathers.
"I've been saving them ever since you were born," Grammy had toldher as she carefully fitted the wings onto her tiny three-year-oldshoulders. "Some people might tell you they're only seagullfeathers, but don't you believe them."
"But if they didn't come from seagulls, where did they comefrom?" Angel had asked.
"Angels," Grammy told her, looking deep into her eyes. "Angels justlike you. They come to me when I dream, and leave feathers on mypillow. Feathers from real angels for my own perfect little Angel."
Angel still had those wings, but they no longer hung on the wall ofher room, as they once had. Now they were wrapped in tissue paperand packed away in an old hat box she'd found in the basement of thehouse they lived in when she was nine, and even though her motherthought they should be thrown away, Angel knew they never would be.They were all she had to remind her of Grammy, who died a littlewhile after that wonderful Halloween when she'd worn the angelcostume, and Grammy held her hand and led her up to the porchesdecorated with jack-o-lanterns. Angel remembered being too shy toknock on the doors herself, and too terrified of the strangers whoanswered the doors to call out "Trick or treat," so Grammy had donethat for her too.
Then, even before all her Halloween candy was gone, Grammy had died.
And she had been alone ever since, with only the wonderful featheredwings to remember her grandmother by.
Continues...
Excerpted from Black Creek Crossingby John Saul Copyright © 2005 by John Saul. Excerpted by permission.
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