grass. Just tell us what you want us to say.”
Dom looked panic-stricken. “Don’t say anything,” he pleaded. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
All the tiny oranges trembled on their stalks as a middle-aged man came pushing through the foliage. He had one of those bland harmless faces, like a kids’ TV presenter. “There you are! Everyone’s waiting.”
I saw him quickly suppress his surprise. “And who’s this?” he said in a jolly, joky voice.
“It’s OK, Mr Lamb, I can explain—” Dom began.
“Don’t worry, we’re just leaving!” I interrupted airily. “Our parents are thinking of sending us to your brilliant school, so Dom and Lily kindly offered to show us round.” I dug Reuben in the ribs.
“Oh, yeah,” he said solemnly. “Great school.”
“Wow, is that the time!” said Lola. “We’d better get moving.”
But nice harmless Mr Lamb had somehow got between us and the door. “Sorry kids,” he said in his child-friendly voice. “You know the rules. No-one enters or leaves a Phoenix School unless we’ve checked your ID. You’ll have to come with me.”
I saw genuine terror flicker across Dom’s face. What could possibly be scaring him so badly? I wondered. We obediently trailed after the teacher.
Lola pulled a face at me. “I feel totally naked.”
” You feel naked,” Reuben muttered. “I’ve got major stage fright. I can’t believe humans can actually see me!”
I wondered if materialising without permission was still a major cosmic offence, if you did it by mistake. I mean, we hadn’t actually blown our divine cover or anything.
Then we went through the door into the school grounds, and everything else went clean out of my head as Lola went, “Ohhh.”
The sun was setting, bathing everything in its warm peachy light. Kids in stylish casuals flitted about the school campus, chatting, laughing and generally being kids. Lovely music drifted from windows. Several pupils were practising martial arts under the trees. Every child had that special glow I’d noticed in Dom and his mates.
Reuben totally forgot about his stage fright. His eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, wow, these humans are way more evolved!” he breathed. “They’ve grown out of that primitive war stage and now they’re producing beautiful genius kids. It’s like they’ve created Heaven on Earth!”
It all sounded really tempting, and you have no idea how much I wanted to believe him. But like Mr Allbright says, we should always listen to our angel intuition, and mine just wasn’t convinced.
Look closer, Mel, it insisted. What’s wrong with this picture?
Take the teacher. He knew what Dom had been up to, I was sure of it. OK, he hadn’t actually sussed we were angels, but he’d definitely twigged we weren’t from their time-zone. So why was he stringing us along, as if he’d genuinely swallowed our story?
Mr Lamb took us into a building so perfect that I could hardly believe it was a school. There was the sweetest indoor garden with a little Zen fountain and shells and coloured gravel, plus they’d hung the kids’ artwork everywhere, not Blu-tacked any old how, but beautifully framed, as if the teachers actually valued it. This school even smelled lovely.
Maybe my intuition had got it wrong? Maybe this really was Heaven on Earth?
Then I saw the retina scanner and my heart dropped into my trainers. We definitely don’t do retina scans in Heaven.
We had to take turns to stand in front of the machine, trying not to blink, while eerie blue lights sizzled and flashed, like those evil fly killer thingies they have in chip shops in my time.
Not surprisingly the scan showed that Reuben, Lola and I had no official existence in the twenty-third century.
The teacher vanished into an office and I heard him talking softly on the phone. “Definitely not from this era. Of course. Yes, I’ll hold on to them until the authorities get here.”
Like a tiny candle flame, my
Dom looked panic-stricken. “Don’t say anything,” he pleaded. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
All the tiny oranges trembled on their stalks as a middle-aged man came pushing through the foliage. He had one of those bland harmless faces, like a kids’ TV presenter. “There you are! Everyone’s waiting.”
I saw him quickly suppress his surprise. “And who’s this?” he said in a jolly, joky voice.
“It’s OK, Mr Lamb, I can explain—” Dom began.
“Don’t worry, we’re just leaving!” I interrupted airily. “Our parents are thinking of sending us to your brilliant school, so Dom and Lily kindly offered to show us round.” I dug Reuben in the ribs.
“Oh, yeah,” he said solemnly. “Great school.”
“Wow, is that the time!” said Lola. “We’d better get moving.”
But nice harmless Mr Lamb had somehow got between us and the door. “Sorry kids,” he said in his child-friendly voice. “You know the rules. No-one enters or leaves a Phoenix School unless we’ve checked your ID. You’ll have to come with me.”
I saw genuine terror flicker across Dom’s face. What could possibly be scaring him so badly? I wondered. We obediently trailed after the teacher.
Lola pulled a face at me. “I feel totally naked.”
” You feel naked,” Reuben muttered. “I’ve got major stage fright. I can’t believe humans can actually see me!”
I wondered if materialising without permission was still a major cosmic offence, if you did it by mistake. I mean, we hadn’t actually blown our divine cover or anything.
Then we went through the door into the school grounds, and everything else went clean out of my head as Lola went, “Ohhh.”
The sun was setting, bathing everything in its warm peachy light. Kids in stylish casuals flitted about the school campus, chatting, laughing and generally being kids. Lovely music drifted from windows. Several pupils were practising martial arts under the trees. Every child had that special glow I’d noticed in Dom and his mates.
Reuben totally forgot about his stage fright. His eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, wow, these humans are way more evolved!” he breathed. “They’ve grown out of that primitive war stage and now they’re producing beautiful genius kids. It’s like they’ve created Heaven on Earth!”
It all sounded really tempting, and you have no idea how much I wanted to believe him. But like Mr Allbright says, we should always listen to our angel intuition, and mine just wasn’t convinced.
Look closer, Mel, it insisted. What’s wrong with this picture?
Take the teacher. He knew what Dom had been up to, I was sure of it. OK, he hadn’t actually sussed we were angels, but he’d definitely twigged we weren’t from their time-zone. So why was he stringing us along, as if he’d genuinely swallowed our story?
Mr Lamb took us into a building so perfect that I could hardly believe it was a school. There was the sweetest indoor garden with a little Zen fountain and shells and coloured gravel, plus they’d hung the kids’ artwork everywhere, not Blu-tacked any old how, but beautifully framed, as if the teachers actually valued it. This school even smelled lovely.
Maybe my intuition had got it wrong? Maybe this really was Heaven on Earth?
Then I saw the retina scanner and my heart dropped into my trainers. We definitely don’t do retina scans in Heaven.
We had to take turns to stand in front of the machine, trying not to blink, while eerie blue lights sizzled and flashed, like those evil fly killer thingies they have in chip shops in my time.
Not surprisingly the scan showed that Reuben, Lola and I had no official existence in the twenty-third century.
The teacher vanished into an office and I heard him talking softly on the phone. “Definitely not from this era. Of course. Yes, I’ll hold on to them until the authorities get here.”
Like a tiny candle flame, my
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