Alexandra Adornetto: Halo

“The important thing is not to lose sight of why we’re here,” Ivy said. “Our mission is clear: to perform good deeds, acts of charity and kindness; to lead by example. We don’t want any miracles just yet, not until we can predict how they would be received. At the same time we want to observe and learn as much as we can about people. Human culture is so complex and different from anything else in the universe.”

I suspected these ground rules were mostly for my benefit. Gabriel never had difficulty handling himself in any kind of situation.

“This is going to be fun,” I said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

“It’s not about fun,” retorted Gabriel. “Haven’t you heard anything we’ve said?”

“Essentially we are trying to drive away the evil influences and restore people’s faith in each other,” said Ivy in a conciliatory tone. “Don’t worry about Bethany, Gabe — she’ll be fine.”

“In short, we are here to bless the community,” my brother continued. “But we mustn’t appear too conspicuous. Our first priority is to remain undetected. Bethany, please try not to say anything that will… unsettle the students.”

It was my turn to be offended.

“Like what?” I demanded. “I’m not that scary.”

“You know what Gabriel means,” said Ivy. “All he’s suggesting is that you think before you speak. No personal talk about home, no ‘God reckons’… or ‘God told me’… they might think you’re on something.”

“Fine,” I said huffily. “But I hope I’m at least allowed to fly around the corridors during lunch hour.”

Gabriel threw me a disapproving look. I waited for him to get my joke, but his eyes remained serious. I sighed. Much as I loved him, Gabriel could be totally lacking in any sense of humor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll behave. I promise.”

“Self-control is of the utmost importance,” Ivy said.

I sighed again. I knew I was the only one who had to worry about self-control. Ivy and Gabriel had enough experience of this kind for it to be second nature — they knew the rules back to front. It wasn’t fair. They also had steadier personalities than I did. They might as well have been called the Ice King and Queen. Nothing fazed them, nothing troubled them, and most important, nothing upset them. They were like well-rehearsed actors whose lines came to them without effort. It was different for me; I’d struggled from the outset. For some reason, becoming human had really thrown me. I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of it. It was like going from blissful emptiness to experiencing a roller coaster of sensations all at once. Sometimes the sensations crossed over and shifted like sand so the end result was total confusion. I knew I was supposed to detach myself from all things emotional, but I hadn’t worked out how. I marveled at how ordinary humans managed to live with such turmoil bubbling below the surface all the time — it was draining. I tried to hide my difficulties from Gabriel; I didn’t want to prove him right or have him thinking less of me because of my struggles. If my siblings ever experienced anything similar, they were expert at suppressing it.

Ivy suggested she go and lay out my uniform and find a clean shirt and pants for Gabe. As a member of the teaching staff, Gabriel was required to wear a shirt and tie, and the idea wasn’t exactly appealing to him. He usually wore loose jeans and open-neck sweaters. Anything tight made us feel too constricted. Clothes in general gave us a strange feeling of being trapped, so I sympathized with Gabriel as he came back downstairs squirming in the crisp white shirt that hugged his well-built chest and tugging at the tie until he’d sufficiently loosened the knot.

Clothing wasn’t the only difference; we’d also had to learn to perform grooming rituals like showering, brushing our teeth, and combing our hair. We never had to think about such things in the Kingdom, where existence was maintenance free. Life as a physical entity meant so much more to remember.

“Are you sure there’s a dress code for teachers?” Gabriel asked.

“I think so,” Ivy replied, “but even if I’m wrong, do you really want to be taking a chance on the first day?’

“What was wrong with what I had on?” he grumbled, rolling up his shirtsleeves in an attempt to liberate his arms. “It was comfortable, at least.”

Ivy clicked her tongue at him and turned to check that I’d put on my uniform correctly.

I had to admit that it was fairly stylish as far as uniforms went. The dress was a flattering pale blue with a pleated front and a white Peter Pan collar. With it we were required to wear knee-high cotton socks, brown buckle-up shoes, and a navy blazer with the school crest emblazoned in gold on the breast pocket. Ivy had bought me pale blue and white ribbons, which she now weaved deftly into my braids.

“There,” she said with a satisfied smile. “From celestial ambassador to local school girl.”

I wished she hadn’t used the word ambassador —it was unnerving. It carried so much weight, so many expectations. And not the sort of expectations humans had of their children to clean their rooms, babysit their siblings, or complete their homework. These were the kind of expectations that had to be met, and if they weren’t… well, I didn’t know what would happen. My knees felt as if they might buckle underneath me at any minute.

“I’m not so sure about this, Gabe,” I said, even as I realized how erratic I must sound. “What if I’m not ready?”

“That choice is not ours,” Gabriel replied with unfailing composure. “We have only one purpose: to fulfil our duties to the Creator.”

“I want to do that, but this is high school. It’s one thing observing life from the sidelines, but we’re going to be thrown right in the thick of it.”

“That’s the point,” Gabriel said. “We can’t be expected to make a difference from the sidelines.”

“But what if something goes wrong?”

“I’ll be there to make it right.”

“It’s just that the earth seems like such a dangerous place for angels.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

The dangers I imagined weren’t merely physical. These we’d be well equipped to handle. What worried me was the seduction of all things human. I doubted myself, and I knew that could lead to losing sight of my higher purpose. After all, it had happened before with dire consequences — we’d all heard the dreadful legends of fallen angels, seduced by the indulgences of man, and we all knew what had become of them.

Ivy and Gabriel observed the world around them with a trained eye, aware of the pitfalls, but for a novice like me the danger was enormous.

The Bryce Hamilton School was located on the outskirts of town, set high on the peak of an undulating slope. No matter where you were in the building, you looked out to see a view: either vineyards and verdant hills with the odd grazing cow, or the rugged cliffs of the Shipwreck Coast, so named for the many vessels that had sunk in its treacherous waters over the last century. The school, a limestone mansion complete with arched windows, sweeping lawns, and a bell tower, was one of the town’s original buildings. It had once served as a convent before it was converted to a school in the sixties.

A flight of stone steps led to the double doors of the main entrance, which was shadowed by a vine-covered archway. Attached to the main building was a small stone chapel; the occasional service was still held there, we were told, but mostly it served as a place for students in need of refuge. A high stone wall surrounded the grounds, and spiked iron gates stood open to allow cars access to the gravel driveway.