Winging It Read online

  First published in Great Britain by Harper Collins Children’s Books in 2001

  This updated and revised edition published by Lazy Chair Press in 2013

  Text copyright (c) Annie Dalton 2001

  The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.

  This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be leant, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form (including digital form) other than this in which it is published, and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  With love to my three favourite angels, Anna, Reuben (the original DJ Sweetpea) and Maria, whose sparklingly fresh ideas and stern criticism brought Mel and her angel mates to life.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About the Author

  Also by Annie Dalton

  Credits

  Chapter One

  I hadn’t exactly planned on becoming an angel. But then I hadn’t planned on dying young either. Well, you don’t, do you?

  If I’d thought about it, I’d have said that kind of thing was strictly for Venetia Rossetti. Venetia was a big hit with all the teachers at my school and way more suitable angel material than yours truly.

  But there you go. Venetia’s still on Planet Earth, writing her little poems about rain and violets. And I’m, well - not!

  Know what I thought, when I got knocked down?

  Now I’ll never get the chance to prove Miss Rowntree wrong!

  See what I mean? My last moments on Earth and that’s all I could come up with. I am SO not poetic.

  I wouldn’t want you to get the idea I was a totally bad person. I didn’t torture small animals, or go raving about our estate, scaring old ladies. I just couldn’t get psyched up about school stuff, like exams or team games, or figuring out what I was going to do when I grew up (though as it turns out, I didn’t really need to worry about that).

  Shortly before I died, Miss Rowntree caught me flipping through a magazine in her class. You’d think I’d committed a major crime! “When will you realise there is more to life than makeovers, Melanie?” she yelled.

  But I do, Miss Rowntree, I do, I thought. There’s watching MTV. Hanging out with my mates. Ooh, and flirting with boys. And most sacred of all, yahoo! SHOPPING!

  I didn’t share these thoughts with my teacher, obviously. I might be a bimbo but I’m a very polite bimbo. Whereas Miss Rowntree showed me no respect whatsoever. “Melanie Beeby, you are just an airhead with attitude,” she snapped at me another time.

  But on the last day of term, she said something so sarcastic that just thinking of it gives me the chills. “School is irrelevant to you, isn’t it, Melanie?” she said in a scornful voice. “You’re probably just killing time until you’re spotted by a talent scout and get signed up as a TV presenter.”

  I nearly fell off my chair. Did Miss Rowntree have some creepy teacher’s ESP? Not even my best friends knew my secret fantasy! It was like she’d set out to humiliate me, basically telling me in front of the whole class that my sad little daydream would never come true.

  I didn’t let her see she’d got to me, just did my bored shrug, and spent the rest of her lesson peeling varnish off my nails. But the minute I got home, I bawled my eyes out. First I cried all over Mum. Then Des, my step dad, came in and I had to choke out my story all over again.

  “Silly old battle-axe,” Des said. “What does she know?”

  “Yeah, she’s an old battle-axe,” said my five-year old sister fiercely.

  Actually my teacher is depressingly glamorous But if my family wanted to picture her as a shrivelled old bat with bristles on her chin, who was I to disagree?

  As it happened, Miss Rowntree’s spiteful put-down was the very last thing she said to me, because next day it was the start of the summer holidays.

  I’d got an incredibly significant birthday coming up, my thirteenth, so I had some serious celebrating to do. My star sign is Cancer and if I say so myself, it fits me like a glove. Shy on the outside, with a squishy caramel centre, that’s me.

  I sometimes wonder what I’d have done, if I’d genuinely understood I only had a few precious days left on Earth. Would I have appeared on TV, pleading with world leaders to throw down their weapons and stop all those stupid wars?

  But as it turned out, my last days were just enjoyably average. And to be completely honest with you, all I cared about was that I was finally becoming a big bad teenager at last.

  The day before my birthday, Des drove me and my two best mates to the local multiplex, to see a cool film with Will Smith in it, followed by a complete pig-out at Macdonalds.

  My actual birthday was purely family, nice but slightly boring - you know the kind. Secretly I’d have preferred to fast-forward to the next day, when I was meeting up with my mates for a major shopping spree, but finally it was all over for another year.

  When I came to bed, my little sister Jade did something really sweet. She sat up in her sleep and said, “You’re my best sister in the whole universe.”

  I said, “I’m your only sister, you nutcase.”

  And without ever dreaming this was my last night Earth, I fell into a deep peaceful sleep.

  And all the time, like summer birds collecting telephone wires, angels were gathering around me I didn’t realise this then, but no-one is allowed to die alone. Ever.

  Some people see their guardian angels, just before they leave their bodies. I didn’t see much actually. My last few seconds on Earth went something like this. One minute I’m crossing the road, humming a little tune and obsessing about all the stuff I’m going to buy with my birthday money, then - BAM it’s over! Some sad kid in a stolen car snuffed me out. Just like that.

  No, I didn’t look down and see myself nee-nawing along in the ambulance. And as far as I remember, I didn’t whoosh down a long bright tunnel and have a meaningful chat with some guy robes either.

  I was just - GONE.

  Don’t get me wrong. That tunnel stuff could have happened. I could have blanked it out. But here’s what I do remember, OK?

  I remember a hush which might have gone on for days or hours. I went a teensy bit vague about time at that point.

  This hush wasn’t like a normal silence. You could hear music in it. Far-off music, which throbbed on and on without stopping, like a beautiful humming-top. It was the most blissful sound I’d ever heard. I totally had to know where it was coming from, so I floated out past glittering stars and planets, passing so close it took my breath away.

  Then, without any warning, my personal soundtrack was switched back on and - BANG! I was in brilliant sunlight, walking towards a pair of swanky gates with a cool little angel logo on them.

  And there, in letters so large and round that even my little sister couldn’t mistake them, was the most surprising sign I’d ever seen in my life.

  Chapter Two

  Apparently, when some people arrive on The Other Side, as my Great Nan used to call it, they take one look and go, “Oh, hello, I must have died and gone to heaven!”

  But I was only thirteen. It didn’t occur to me I was dead.

  What’s going on? I panicked. Why am I hanging around outside this snobby school?

  Big snobby school, to be strictly accurate. Kids of all ages were crowding through
the gates.

  Hang on, Mel, I thought. This can’t be right. It’s the summer holidays.

  But it didn’t feel like the holidays. There was a definite first-day-of-term zing in the air. All the kids had that “Yippee! Can’t wait to see my mates!” look about them.

  It was like being in a dream. The kind where you forget really crucial personal info. For instance, I totally couldn’t remember what I’d been doing just before my little trip around the galaxy (which I was rather carefully trying not to think about).

  Weirdly, I could remember the tune I’d been humming; also an alarmingly big bang. Perhaps I’d been in some kind of accident, and I was badly concussed? That would explain why I felt so out of it.

  I hung about uneasily as kids streamed past me in their gorgeous designer colours.

  For some reason, my eyes kept going back to that little logo on the gate.

  At first it struck me as just your basic logo. Like that Puma symbol, or whatever. Then I realised it was incredibly beautiful. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t stop looking - more like I didn’t want to.

  As I stared, hypnotised, at this dazzling thing, the little angel figure began to grow sharper and brighter… and suddenly it was shooting out huge starry rays like a Roman Candle.

  I shut my eyes fast, telling myself it was just an optical illusion. And when I opened them again, the logo was back to normal.

  Boy, Melanie, that must have been some bang on the head, I told myself.

  I was starting to feel embarrassingly conspicuous, hanging around like a spare part. It can’t hurt to have a little peek, I thought. I’ll just see what’s on the other side of these gates and if I don’t like it, I can come straight back out.

  I began to drift casually towards the gates with the others, hoping I didn’t look as lost and panicky as I felt.

  The other kids all seemed really chilled, kidding about and flirting, which I found quite reassuring. I remember thinking that if I HAD been worried about it being a school for actual angels (which obviously I wasn’t), the flirting would definitely have put my mind at rest. Also their clothes, which were reassuringly on trend. There wasn’t a long white nightie in sight.

  I did notice that everyone’s cool fleeces and other stuff had that same little angel logo.

  Imagine that, Mel, I thought. A designer tag you don’t know about!

  One of the girls had a big throaty laugh that was really infectious. She was a bit of a daddy-long-legs, like me, I noticed. Everything about her zinged with energy: her springy black hair, her tough-girl walk. I sneakily attached myself to her, trying to act like I just happened to be going the same way.

  Unfortunately, on the other side of the gates, I nearly blew my street cred once and for all.

  I should explain that my old school was pretty much your standard comprehensive hell-hole. But this was practically a palace, with gorgeous gardens and domes and spires.

  Yeah, but it’s still school, I thought darkly.

  We were hurrying along a shady walkway. You could see it was really ancient. The stone slabs had actual hollows worn into them by centuries of passing feet. One of my shoes accidentally slipped into a shiny long-ago footprint, and a shiver went through me. It fitted exactly.

  The girl gave me a funny look. “Angel vibes,” she said. “You soon get used to them.”

  But I didn’t really register what she said because suddenly I’d got the strangest feeling. “Do I know you, or something?” I blurted.

  The girl froze in her tracks.

  Now look what you’ve done, I scolded myself. She’s going to have you down as some needy little groupie.

  She was staring at me with a stunned expression. “Weird,” she whispered. “I was just thinking the same thing.” She took a big breath. “I’m Lola.”

  “I’m Melanie,” I whispered back.

  Our eyes met for about a split second, and it was like a total replay of my shivery footprint moment.

  We both quickly looked away again and walked on side by side.

  This is going to sound bizarre, so please don’t ask me to explain. But somewhere inside, I just knew Lola was the friend I’d waited for my whole life.

  It wasn’t how she looked (although her clothe were lush). It was more like I already knew her really, really well. And I got the feeling she felt the same way. We kept giving each other startled little glances as we hurried along. Like: What is going on?

  Get a grip, Melanie, I told myself. Do you seriously imagine a girl this cool will want to hang out with you?

  At this moment, there was so much happening inside my head that I’d split into at least three or four Mels. First, I’m trying not to dwell too closely on what I’m doing here. Second, I’ve just run into a total stranger who seems like she’s my all-time best buddy. Third,we are speeding through these school grounds which are getting more amazing by the minute. And I mean AMAZING! It was all I could do not to squeal like a little kid.

  I still wasn’t too impressed to find myself hanging around some strange school in the holidays. But I was starting to see how the right person just might get something out of a set-up like this.

  But what kind of set-up was it exactly? I couldn’t figure it out. At first I thought I’d gate-crashed one of those really retro private schools. The ones that call homework “prep” and have their own weird little school song on speech days.

  But other parts of the Academy were incredibly futuristic. Plus they had all this water everywhere - trickling along little channels and into pools, bubbling out of fountains. It sounded almost like music, the sort of music you might hear in a wonderful dream.

  We actually passed a spiral staircase which wound around a real waterfall. I’d never seen anything so magical as those shining stairs, twisting and turning through crowds of tiny glowing rainbows.

  But there was no time to admire the scenery. The kids were practically running by this time. We seemed to be heading rapidly for some impressive wooden doors. Carved into them was the same little angel logo I kept seeing everywhere.

  At that point I went into a full-scale panic attack.

  If I go in there, something’s going to happen, I thought. Something which will change me for ever.

  But before I could make a run for it, I was swept helplessly through the doors into a vast sunlit hall

  It was like a huge theatre with tiers and tiers of seats. High over our head was a dome of stained glass. Sunlight poured through the glass, spilling extraordinary colours everywhere.

  There was a stage, a very grand one. Right across the back wall was an outsized TV screen, the kind you get at pop concerts, with the word: WELCOME BACK in glowing letters.

  Teachers roamed up and down the aisles. Their fluttering, deep-dyed robes made them look more like birds than people. This place got more unbelievable every minute. Suddenly I registered an extremely unpleasant fact.

  There wasn’t an empty seat anywhere. Nightmare! I was going to be the one person left standing in this weird scary hall.

  I suddenly saw Lola waving frantically. She’d actually saved me a place!

  I gratefully squeezed on to the bench beside her. A split second later, a honey-coloured boy in cut-offs slid into the non-existent space beside me. “You think I’m late,” he whispered, “but five minutes ago I was surfing.”

  Liar, I thought. It was true drops of water were running off his tiny dreads, but he’d probably just washed his hair or something.

  Suddenly someone strode to the front of the stage. And without him yelling at us or anything, everyone immediately went quiet.

  “Good morning, school,” said the headmaster. “First, a special welcome to those of you who have just arrived. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to come and talk to me.”

  Lola rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like he’s ever here.” Then I think she was worried she’d given me the wrong impression, because she hissed, “It’s not his fault. The Agency takes up practically all Michael’s time these days.�
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  She calls the headmaster Michael! I thought, suppressing a snigger. How hippie-dippie is that!

  Michael was far less imposing than the teachers in their robes. He wore a suit he had apparently slept in, giving the impression he’d just flown in on some long-haul flight. You could tell he was completely shattered.

  Then I saw him in close-up, on the TV screen and had another fit of my mysterious shivers.

  Michael had the loveliest face I’d ever seen.

  It was also totally terrifying.

  It should have been obvious to anyone with a functioning brain cell that this was not your average headmaster. But I’d never met an archangel before.

  Plus, I can’t stand school assemblies. They make me feel as if I can’t breathe. I always tune them out or I’d have to scream with boredom.

  I caught major yawn-words like “team work”, and even (yikes!) “responsibility”, and carried on scrutinising my split ends. But now and then, a far more disturbing word caught my attention. Michael used it more than anyone I’d ever known, and after a while it started getting to me like a dripping tap. Angel tradition. Angel skills Angel Handbook. Angel Angel Angel!

  Something deeply weird is going on here, Melanie, I told myself.

  I sneaked a look at Lola, who immediately pulled a silly face.

  Way too normal, I thought.

  I surreptitiously scanned the hall. It was true that all these kids had an unusual glow. But that didn’t necessarily mean it was a supernatural-type glow. Probably their parents made them eat their greens and run around out of doors, you know, constantly.

  Just one final itty bitty check. Twisting round in my seat, I gave the kids at the back of the hall a nervous once-over.

  Melanie, I know this feels scary, I said to myself, but try to answer truthfully. Do any of these kids look like, um, angels to you?

  I had no idea. What did angels look like, assuming they didn’t come with wings and halos like the one on our Christmas tree?

  Oh-oh, I thought in a sudden panic. They’d look like her!