You Are So Not a Fallen Angel

Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

I couldn’t stop thinking of my fallen angel, as I had named him. What else could he be apart from an angel? My angel to be precise. Because of course he was my angel, come down from heaven to help me. Hadn’t he turned up just in time to save from the Evil Cole? He could have been a knight in shining armour, but knights don’t have the power to make bruises disappear. And they preferred riding in on a tall white horse as their way of making an entrance, not landing in a heap. Unless of course they had been thrown from their horse.

I was so occupied with thinking with dreaming about my angel’s wonderful eyes that I didn’t even noticed the strange looks I got from my mother and father when I wandered back into the house.

“Eliza, darling, are you okay?” my mother asked, taking in my dishevelled appearance and vague expression. She was standing in the hall, a smile frozen on her face. She was trying to direct my father and uncle, who were hauling inside what appeared to be enough luggage for an army. Obviously, they weren’t just down for a long weekend.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I said, absently rubbing my arm. “I just went for a walk.”

“That’s nice!” she exclaimed, briefly closing her eyes in weariness as Aunt Mandy clattered into the hall, dragging yet another suitcase. She was closely followed by my cousin Flora, whose lip curled as she gave me the once over and took in my dirty dress and leaf-filled hair.

“Have a nice outing?” Elijah asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

“It had its moments,” I said. I ambled outside again and went to sit down on the edge of the swimming pool. I sunk my feet into the water, relishing the feel of the cold water on my aching legs. I closed my eyes and try to visualize those blue, blue eyes. And that mouth. And the way that hair had fallen across his forehead.

“So, Eliza.” Flora’s voice cut into my daydream like a knife. The image of eyes bluer than tropical waters and brown hair the colour of chocolate shattered into a million pieces, leaving nothing behind but Flora and her irritatingly nasal voice.

“Hello Flora,” I said in a dull voice. My cousin plonked herself down next to me and stretched her legs out along the edge of the pool, making sure I was given the full benefit of her long, smooth legs, displayed to full extend by her tiny, tiny denim shorts.

“So how’s your summer been?” she asked, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Been anywhere interesting?”

“No,” I said. Which of course she knew. I never went anywhere interesting.

“We had the most wonderful trip to Paris. Ever been there?” she asked, challenging me. I shook my head.

“That’s such a shame, you have no idea what you’re missing. You just can’t imagine what it’s like until you’ve been there-“

Please be quiet, I thought, closing my eyes again. I wanted to bask in the glow of the memory of my fallen angel, not put up with Flora and her endless bragging. She could go on for hours like this, telling me about her boyfriend, her family, her amazing trips to everywhere in the world. She did this every time I saw her, tried to impress me with her fabulous outgoing life. She had not yet realised, despite my best efforts, that I was neither impressed nor cared.   

“And of course I met the most gorgeous French boys when I there. You should have seen them, Eliza, they were like just, so, so...yummy.” Surely not as yummy as my angel. “And they have such passion. And they’re so sophisticated. Not like all the immature jerks you meet over here.”

She glanced my way and smiled condescendingly. Flora was one year and two months older than me, and she seemed to think this alone was enough to make her into a glamorous older cousin, someone I should look up to and aspire to be like.