Winging It!: Confessions of an Angel in Training (Confessions of an Angel-In-Training Book 1) by Delisle Shel

Author:Delisle, Shel [Delisle, Shel]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Something Else Publishing
Published: 2013-11-24T16:00:00+00:00

Joyously Yours,

Grace Lightbourne

Angel-in-Training

P.S. Is that other AIT (Faith was it?) still your roommate? How’s all your shooting star studying going?

Chapter 14

Mrs. Murphy swings the van into a circular, brick driveway when we reach Lacey’s mega-house. There are huge columns in front of a heavy-looking wooden, double doors. It resembles the Hall of Records. I almost expect to see a Cherub or two standing guard.

Lacey bops out the front door and climbs in back seat next to Tara. “Did you remember your Guardian Angel stuff?”

Omigod! They did see me last night! I take my cell phone out of the backpack. Strangely, there’s no voicemail from Michael. I attempt to muster every ounce of angelic poise I possess, which admittedly isn’t much, but if I’m going down in flames, I might as well maintain some dignity.

“I brought Granola bars and Gatorade.” Tara holds up a plain brown gift bag decorated with footballs and #25 and ‘Go Eclipse.’ “Think Cody will like it?”

“It’s better than mine. My mom bought these.” Lacey thrusts a plastic container of football-shaped cookies at Tara. “Like, how’s that supposed to give Victor protection or energy or whatever? I told her these have a ton of processed sugar. So unhealthy!” She shoves the container into a glossy gift bag with an illustration of a pensive angel printed on it.

“I bet he’ll like them anyway,” Tara says.

Holy Granola. What are they talking about?

Mrs. Murphy glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “So which hunk are you the Guardian Angel for, Grace?”

“No one says hunk, Mom.” Tara and Lacey giggle and even Mrs. Murphy smiles.

I’m totally confused. By all of it. Hunk? Hunk of what? Why did Mrs. Murphy ask who I’m a Guardian for? Dear Dad in Heaven. She must know‌—‌or suspect‌—‌but at least she doesn’t realize it’s Tara. And how can they be Guardians? Do they have wings? Maybe this is just a really weird dream? I turn around halfway in the front seat to face Tara and Lacey. What do I look like right now? Probably mostly mystified with a dash of horror tossed in.

“Oh, Grace! I’m sorry,” Tara says “I didn’t know you very good that first week of school when the sign-ups happened. That’s when all the Guardian Angels were picked. Do they do that in Montana?”

“No,” I manage. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Lacey twirls a small section of hair and tosses it back. “You sign up and then you get assigned to a football player and you hope to get a hottie‌—‌which I did, Victor‌—‌and not some sweaty oaf. Then, on game day, you bring the guy a gift, most of us bring food, to wish him a good game. It’s pretty lame, but you get to get out of first period to play angel and deliver the gifts.”

Whew! That clears up some of my questions. “Oh! You’re not really angels,” I say. If only it were as easy as delivering snacks. “The part of about getting out of class sounds good,” I deadpan.

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