Keeping it Real (4 page)

I’d been too busy to let myself miss them, you see - too busy trying to turn myself into an angel. Now I was being shown exactly how much I’d lost.

The flow of memories stopped just as the dramatic whooshing sensation of angelic-style time travel came to a standstill.

Lights and shadows flickered on the other side of the glass. Any sounds that reached me were so muffled I could have been listening to the distant buzzing of bees in clover.

For no real reason, I started smoothing down my hair. It felt scary, knowing that my old neighbourhood was just one step away, waiting to come into focus. I wondered if angels constantly returned to their old human haunts and, if so, did they all share this same disturbing sense of premonition, as if their two worlds were about to smash into each other like icebergs…

I glanced at my watch. They’d be out of school any minute.

Touching my tags for luck, I jumped down into twenty-first century London and let out a shriek.

“My
boots
!”

No one had thought to tell me it would be the middle of winter!

Ankle deep in slush, shivering pathetically in the blowing sleet, I’d have traded my granny for a big warm parka. Cars and trucks crawled past, churning up the dirty snow, headlights barely visible through the gloom. Spine-thumping beats came from their stereos. Quickly checking that my bag was securely fastened, I set off towards the traffic lights, eyes straight ahead, my body language clearly saying, ‘Don’t mess with this angel girl!’ I’d been home two seconds and I’d already switched back to being an inner-city chick.

My old neighbourhood was exactly how I remembered: same stink of traffic fumes and fast food, same hard-faced youths talking a mile a minute into their mobiles. The tattoo parlour was there and that whole-food shop which was run by Buddhists. Everything was exactly the same. The only thing that had changed - was me.

It wasn’t fair but I couldn’t stop comparing Park Hall with Heaven. I couldn’t believe how tacky my old neighbourhood had become.
These are your
roots, Mel
, I scolded myself.
This was your human home
. But it all felt so alien and ugly. I trudged along feeling the freezing slush seeping into my heavenly boots and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so mixed up and lonely or so out of place.

I felt a glowing sensation in my chest, as if I’d swallowed a tiny slightly-too-hot potato. My inner angel had come online. Like soul-mates, inner angels are not an exclusively angel thing. Helix has been a part of me for ever, only now I occasionally
listen
to her wise advice!

“Are you sure these are your thoughts, sweetie?” she asked gently but firmly.

“AAARGH!” I shrieked. “I have got to stop DOING that!!”

I do it every single time!! Pick up some local vibe and confuse it with my own feelings. EVERYONE in Park Hall feels lonely, mixed-up and out of place. (Ok, maybe not the Buddhists!)

“Thanks, Helix,” I told her.

“It’s what I’m here for, babe,” she said calmly. “I think we’re quite close to your school now. You might want to give yourself a teeny light boost.”

I was already surrounded by criminals and drug dealers. I really couldn’t see why Helix was making such a big deal about my school. But I obediently boosted my light levels and went on my way feeling fabulously calm - which was just as well. Without noticing I’d now crossed the invisible border into a notorious area known as Bell Meadow. The houses were the exact same houses that I remembered, the shops were the same shops, yet the low-level vibes made them weirdly threatening.

My school was enclosed behind high brick walls topped with razor wire making it look more like an ugly fortress. Someone had sprayed angry graffiti: WE’RE GONNA GET YOU SHAY.

It was like the nightmare version of my dreamlike arrival at the Angel Academy; stressed-looking human kids spilling out on to the street, swearing, smoking, bragging, screaming insults.

I’ve been away too long
, I thought.

I’d forgotten what human schools could be like. The dark side of Park Hall Community High School had gradually faded from my memories until it had started to seem like one of those sunny vibey schools in hip-hop videos.

The initial stampede soon slowed, but there was still no sign of my friends. I was baffled. It was Friday! No one hung about on Fridays if they had a choice.

Miss Rowntree must have given them a detention. Better go in and find them,
I thought.

Helix seemed uneasy. “I think you should wait out here.”

“I’m not freezing my booty off for another hour! It’s just a school, Helix! What’s going to happen?”

I marched in through the gates. It made me feel really sick, like I was pushing my way through some kind of force field. I put it down to local vibes and cinched up my light levels another couple of notches

The school doors had already been locked so I shimmered into the foyer.

“Yes, I know it’s a dump, OK,” I snapped, before Helix could get a word in. “It’s a depressed area, what do you expect?”

Dump was not the word. Every single pot plant was wilting, if not technically dead. The fish tank only contained slimy pebbles. A vandalised display case had been sloppily mended with tape. Tired posters advertised a forthcoming production of GREASE, or, as one defaced poster now read, GROSS.

In the hall the drama group was in the process of murdering “Summer Lovin’”. Mr Lupton had been trying to get a production together ever since I could remember.

I started off down the corridor.

“Aren’t you going to check the hall first?” Helix asked in surprise.

I shook my head. “My mates aren’t the drama group type!”

I’d tried to persuade them to audition once, coincidentally, for the same production - and no, it wasn’t
only
because cute Kelsey Hickman was in the starring role! I happened to think we’d make pretty good Pink Ladies. I could totally picture us in those cute college-girl jackets. But my mates flatly refused. They said it would ruin our reputation. Jax and Sky thought all school clubs were tragically uncool.

“I mean, PINK Ladies,” Jax had snorted. “How mushy and girly is that?”

“Aha!” I’d teased. “So if it was the
Shocking
Pink Ladies, I suppose you’d do it!”

My friends had stared at me as if they’d seen a vision.

“What? What did I say?”

Sky started jumping up and down and squealing. “Mel, you’re a star! The Shocking Pinks is the PERFECT name for our posse!”

I could hear their voices clearly in my head. Any minute now I’d be seeing them for real. As I hurried along the echoing corridors, I was so excited I had to remind myself to breathe.

Finally I’d reached my old classroom. I jumped up to peer in the window, half giggling with nerves, absolutely knowing I’d see three fed-up girls and a grim Miss Rowntree doing her marking.

The room was empty.

They must be in the science lab
, I thought. After Miss Rowntree, Mr Krishnamurti was the most keen on giving detentions. I started the long trek towards the science block.

I should be wearing our colour
, I thought suddenly.

After Sky’s epiphany about the Shocking Pink Ladies we’d gone rushing off to Claire’s Accessories to hunt out the exact shocking pink items for our group makeover. We pinned shocking pink badges to our bags and re-covered our school exercise books in shocking pink paper; we totally went for it! Being a Pink gradually crept into every area of our lives. If you were feeling down for any reason, one of us would firmly remind you to “Think Pink” - Shocking Pink code for staying positive and hanging on to your dreams.

When you lived in a depressed urban area that was one hundred percent grey, being a Shocking Pink was like a major statement: “We’re young, we’re vibey and we’re here!”

Sadly, like all Mr Lupton’s previous productions, the cheesy musical that inspired this exciting transformation never came off. Kelsey’s mum got picked up for shoplifting two days before the opening night. Scared they’d be taken into care, Kelsey and his younger brothers did a runner. Weeks later, they were found living in a car. I was gutted for him. Kelsey would have made a brilliant Danny Zucco yet he never got a chance to show what he could do. All humans have problems obviously, including my mates, but we’d had it cushy compared to kids like Kelsey, I thought remembering.

The school science block was in a new annexe along with the gym and computer labs. For reasons that probably makes sense to architects, the annexe was on the other side of the dual carriageway to the main school, connected by an ugly concrete bridge.

You know those motorway cafe bridges that sway in high winds? Exactly the same, except it wasn’t glassed in, so it was permanently draughty. And even though it was a bridge, and obviously above ground, it always had that icky subway vibe. It didn’t help that the light bulbs were constantly being vandalised, so on winter afternoons, like this one, it was like walking down a long, windy and very nearly dark tunnel. I’d always hated walking over that bridge, but I didn’t hate it nearly so much as Helix did.

“I’m getting a really disgusting vibe,” she announced unhappily when we were like, a third of the way across.

“And you’re telling me this because?” I’d got it into my head that Helix was criticising my school, so of course I felt like I had to be Park Hall High School’s number one fan. But Helix was right. The vibe was hideous.

All along the bridge someone had repeatedly daubed the same threatening message: YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURS SHAY. In my day graffiti was usually nuked by the school cleaners the same day it appeared.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I was increasingly freaked. It wasn’t just the vibes, it was the
smell
. Our science block was never exactly fragrant, but today the air was quite repulsively whiffy.

“What’s that?” Helix asked abruptly. “I heard something.”

“You’re doing my head in, Helix!” I snapped. “It’s the wind, OK?”

“It’s something like footsteps,” she insisted. “And a weird whining.”

“Just take a chill pill, will you! It’s probably one of the cleaning ladies singing!”

“There it is again!” Helix said unnecessarily.

This time I’d heard something too. I peered nervously into the dusky gloom at the end of the tunnel, and caught a tiny movement. At the same time I heard a stealthy pad-padding, so soft and furtive that all the tiny hairs stood to attention on the back of my neck.

All at once I almost gagged. “Urgh!” I clamped my hand over my nose. “That is SO rank!”

“We should get off this bridge,” Helix said urgently. “This is not a good place for angels.”

“We can’t,” I gulped. “We haven’t checked the lab.”

I felt my knees totally give way, like I’d been kicked from behind. Next minute I was grovelling on my hands and knees.

I just exploded. “Are you mad!! Did you just trip me up?”

“And I’d do it again if had to. I want you to look down NOW.”

My inner angel seemed so frantic that I obeyed.

Then l saw the horrible thing she’d been trying to warn me about and screamed.

Chapter Five

M
y face was inches from a pile of glistening supernatural turds.

This is probably way too much information, but in the semi-twilight of the bridge, the pallid green Hell poo did actually seem to glow.

For a moment I was hypnotised with horror.

What if I’d touched it
?

The thought made me want to beam home to Heaven and shower with rose-scented angel shower gel for like, a year.

“This isn’t right,” I whispered. I suddenly unfroze, scrambling to my feet. If there was green hell poo, then there had to be hellhounds too!

Omigosh, the kids! Humans very rarely register cosmic phenomena, but if a pack of hellhounds gatecrashed their rehearsal, it could still seriously damage their wellbeing.

I hurtled back along the bridge.

“Sorry I decked you, babe,” Helix said apologetically.

“No, you had to, honestly,” I gargled, still trying not to breathe. “I should have listened.”

As I’m sure you realised, hellhounds can’t simply wander into the human dimension and poo wherever they feel like it. Their evil masters are allowed to travel freely throughout the Universe, it’s true, but there’s a total cosmic ban on evil pets, or any other kind of hell trash.

When I got back to the foyer, I could hear a buzz of voices. I assumed the cast were taking a break then I heard sudden angry shouting.

“That’s Karmen’s voice!” I said astonished.

I tiptoed in through the door and saw a handful of kids shrugging on their coats, looking incredibly cheesed-off. One girl was right up in Mr Lupton’s face, almost spitting with fury.

“I’m as disappointed as you are,” Mr Lupton was saying. “But there’s no way we’re ready to go on in a fortnight. Tonight was a shambles and you know it. We’ve lost too many cast members.”

“Is Karmen that shouty girl?” Helix asked.

I shook my head. The girl who was giving Mr Lupton a hard time was strangely similar to my mate, but she had a cute layered bob. Karmen would never cut her hair.