Bailee-
“We’ve got a Code Red,” Adam tells me. He shakes my shoulder to wake me up. “C’mon, Bee, wake up.”
Adam knows I hate it when he calls me Bee. When he was little, he could never pronounce my name right. Mom thought it was really cute, but trust me, Adam still does it just to annoy me. We’ve never gotten along. But try living with my little brother for fifteen years.
“Bailee!” he says. “Code Red! Didn’t you hear me? CODE RRREEEDDDD!”
“Off!” I shout. I sit up and a piece of my curly auburn hair falls in my face. Irritably, I blow it aside.
“Now, Bailee!” Adam shoves my pillow away and peels back my quilt.
Groaning, I get uo and stumble around for my glasses. The world becomes clear before me. My feet find my shoes and before I know it, I’m following Adam through the dark halls of the Hotel. We don’t give it a name. It always has been and always will be ‘the Hotel’.
Mom sits in her spinning chair, her caramel hair plastered back with either too much hairspray or sweat–I can’t tell.
“Hey, Bailee,” she says. Her face is creased with concerned wrinkles, and the half-moons under her eyes are the color of bruises.
“Adam said Code Red?” I ask nervously.
Mom runs her fingers through her stiff hair, which hardly moves. She glances at the computer screen in front of her. The scene it shows is a violent crack of lightning and then some strange four-wheeled vehicle spiraling downwards.
“What is that?” Adam squints, pointing towards the vehicle.
“It’s called a car,” Mom tells us.
We watch this car plummet downwards and then collapse on the ground.
“Code Red,” I whisper. “Those poor, poor people.”
Adam’s face is unexplainably pale. His bottom lip sweats and he shakes a little as he turns to Mom, “W-what are we gonna do?”
“I think it’s time to talk to the G.A. Council,” Mom admits, twisting her pinkies together. Her wedding band glints gold in the computer light and I feel a pang, remembering the man who gave her that ring. Remembering my father.
“And this time, Adam,” she continues. “I think they might send you.”
“M-me? B-b-but I don’t even have my wings yet!” Self-consciously, he rubs the empty spot between his shoulder blades where his wings will someday be.
“Hey,” I nudge him. “I had my first assignment when I was fifteen. High-time you got out there, don’t ya think?”
He gives me a weak smile, but ducks his head, and rubs his back again. “I guess so.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Bee.”
I grin and ruffle his red-brown hair. He swats my hand away, but he’s less tense. And at least he’s smiling too.
••••••••
The G.A. Council meets in the lobby of the Hotel. There are six of them, all seated around a circular table, with their heads held high and hands clasped tightly together. Grim expressions line their faces as Mom, Adam, and I slowly, timidly, cross into the lobby.
The Council nods slowly and my eyes sweep across each one of them.
Eme, Sky, Leasen, Celestial, Aero, and Khisoul.
Once again, I catch my brother rubbing his shoulder blades and I suppress a sigh. I know that he doesn’t like that he’s one of the only ones in his Age that has no wings. I, however, cannot relate since I got mine when I was twelve. Destined from the beginning to be one of the best. Adam has always been salty about this. I unfurl my wings and stroke the silvery feathers absently, remembering the day. No one ever told me how much it would hurt. Mom shoots me a disapproving look, no doubt mentally scolding me for untucking my wings. It’s considered untactful to do so until the G.A. Council rises.
“Lady Arabelle,” Aero greets Mom politely. “How kind of you to join us.”
“Of course, my lord,” Mom says. “May I present my children? Miss Bailee Charmeine Malach, and Mr. Adam Castle Malach.”
The Council rises and I uncurl my wings, basking in the adoration of their stares. I know that my wings exceed most, and I know that I am lucky to have such lovely ones. Adam looks at them enviously.
“What about you, Mr. Malach?” inquires Eme. “Where are your wings?”
“I don’t have any,” Adam mumbles, flushing pink.
Sky looks questioningly at Mom. “Are you certain we should send him?”
“He’s ready,” Mom insists. “Trust me.”
“Very well,” sighs Khisoul. “We shall give him a chance.”
“Mr. Malach,” orders Leasen. “Come here.”
Adam visibly shakes as he approaches the G.A. Council. He holds out a hand to Celestial, who takes it and whispers into his palm.
“You have been chosen to be the Guardian Angel of one of these people in the car crash. Which one speaks to you?”
She has Adam close his eyes before she snaps and a screen appears on the wall behind us. There are four pictures of girls about Adam’s age on it.
“My schedule!” cries one.
“My personality!” cries another.
With his eyes still closed, Adam slowly backs away from them and blindly gropes for other side of the wall.
“My friends,” shouts another.
And then, so quietly that I can barely hear, the fourth one whispers her silent plea into the universe, the thing that she fears and needs help with the most.
“My family.”
Adam freezes. Our breath is the only sound. He blindly stumbles around and reaches for the screen where the last girl’s whisper was spoken. The screen shuts off the instant his fingertips make contact with it. Then, he opens his eyes and looks into his hands.
“Good job,” Aero smiles. “Excellent choice.”
Adam nods silently and looks into his hands where I can see the edge of a slip of paper.
“Dismissed!” calls Sky, and the G.A. Council flies out the roof. They’re just like that.
Mom and I hurry after Adam, who is already almost on the other side of the lobby.
“So, who’d you get?” I ask.
Adam shows me the slip of paper.
Autumn Elizabeth Hathaway.
Biggest Fear: her family splitting apart.
“Oh,” I say, glancing up. “That’s tough.”
My person I protect in named Rylee Bendalyn George. Her problem was feeling worthless, which was an easy fix. Well, at least easier than one like this.
“I can’t fix a broken family, Bailee,” Adam whispers.
“Then why’d you choose her?”
“I...felt something.”
“Huh?”
“I felt something telling me to choose her. And...I want to help her.” He flips the card over and on the back is a picture of Autumn Elizabeth Hathaway. She has soft coppery waves that float down past her rib cage. Her eyes are brown but with a slight tint of greenish gold to them. And I can faintly make out a dimple in her cheek. She’s pretty, not doubt about it. But there’s a certain melancholy quality to her, like she’s been trying too hard for too long.
Adam runs his fingers over the glossy surface of the picture. “I have to help her.”
I study him. “You will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
I smile sadly and say the words that we’ve been taught from the beginning of our endless lives. “Because that’s what Guardian Angels do.”
Comments