✨New Wings✨

Chapter One

I open my eyes, and I am greeted by the sight of my small white dog lying on the edge of my bed. I see her obsidian eyes scanning the room, ready for any sign of danger. I sit up, and she jolts. She stands up and trots over to my side. She greets me with a lick on the cheek, and curls back up beside me. " Good morning Jazzy." I sigh. I smile, pat her little poof on the top of her head, and crawl out of bed. I throw on the clothes I put out the night before. Ripped jeans, my favorite white shirt, and golden Nike tennis shoes. I finally glance in the mirror and inspect my brown/blonde hair, my small nose, my pale pink lips. All my friends say that I am the prettiest girl in school, and then I laugh. " Oh, look, ANOTHER pimple. And what's with the hair?" A tiny annoying voice says in my head. " Shut up." I growl to myself. " Yea, your SO pretty. NOT!" It's says again, and laughs. " Shut up!" I whisper again. " I'm sure ALL the boys are in love with you. ESPECIALLY Connor." The voice laughs. " SHUT UP!" I say. Oops. That one was loud. Jazzy bolts up, looks at me strangely, and curls up to sleep again. As I push open my door, I hear a whisper of a laugh. I'm used to it though. I have serious insecurities that cause anxiety, at least that's what my counselor says. No one understands why, though. All they think about me is " Oh, look, it's Katelyn, the pretty popular girl with her little posse." When I walk into a room, it's never " Oh, look, Katelyn! Hey girl!" It's always dead silent. I can never be sure if it's a respectful silence, awed silence, or hatred. I HATE people thinking I am "pretty". I'm not! I realize that I have been lost in my thoughts, and progressively stopped walking. " Katelyn!" My mom yells up. " Breakfast!" " Coming!" I shout back. I bound down the circular stairs, my hand sliding on the aged wood. I look outside, watching the progression of cars going up and down my street. I try and count them by color. 1 red. 2 blue. 5 white. I almost say " I win!" But catch myself at the last second. My dad and I used to play the car game when I was little, and we did one last time before he went to Iraq to fight. Then... no, don't think about that. That isn't going to help your day. I break out of my trance, and walk over to the kitchen, plopping down on a seat at our white marble island. My Mom gracefully puts down the 3 eggs, toast, and apple cider she made for me this morning. " Thanks Mom." I mumble through my stuffed face. I love eggs, but only if they have cheese and ham chunks in them, and if they're my Mom's.
    
After I finish my cheese infused eggs, I rush upstairs and do my makeup and hair, putting up with the taunts of the voice. " Katelyn!" My mom yells. " You're going to miss the bus!" That's when I look at the time. 8:10. Great, I think. I am going to miss the bus on the first day. I super speed through my normal routine, grab my new backpack, and rush out the door, barely hearing my Mom call out my name again. " Katelyn! You forgot your necklace!" She yelled after my receding figure. I freeze, drop my bag, sprint towards the house, grab the necklace from her hand, and sprint back to my bag. I open my hand to reveal a small silver starfish locket, with a white, almost formed twin, pearl in the middle. I close my eyes, and try not to cry. My last vacation with my dad, right before he left, right before he died, we had gone to Florida. We went into some chain beach shop, and bought this. Then, the pearl had still been in the clam. The point was, someone you loved had to open the clam and put the pearl into the necklace. Apparently, pearls were very magical objects that can hold very powerful emotions, such as love. My dad had opened the clam, and given me the necklace. After he died, I didn't take it off for 4 months, even when I slept. I latched the necklace around my neck, slung my bag over my shoulder, and jogged the rest of the way to the bus stop, hoping my dad's love would help me through my first day of 7th grade.

____________________________________________________________________________

    I go to Freedom Middle School, and I am in the 7th grade. I have never done anything bad, and I have a clean record.  I want to know why I am in the counselor's office with a black eye and an angry 8th grade boy sitting next to me! I have explained to the counselor many times, I was walking down the hallway with my friends, when I saw a boy dragging a younger boy by his backpack down a hallway no one uses. I told my friends I was going to the bathroom, and followed him. When I found them, there were at least 5 others making a circle around two figures. I was able to push past them, and saw this boy beating up another boy, who was obviously helpless. I leap in front of the victim, and told him to run. He was able to get away, but now I was in the circle, with a not so happy 8th grader. " Think you're tough, huh?" He spat at me. I glare and defiantly said " Yes." His friends laughed. He smiled. " Alright princess, prove it." He said. " I don't need to fight to prove my toughness." I glared at him. I watched his eyes harden. " Yea, you do. Let's go, honey." " Ok, but you're sure you don't need a diaper before we start? I can already tell you're a baby." I smiled, and didn't even see him move his fist. I only realized it when I had fallen back onto the tile floor, a pain in my eye. He and his friends laughed again. I stood up slowly, wiped of my pants, and tucked my necklace in. I used my super fast reflexes and strength you can only get from hours of rugby practice to feint at him, swing my leg around, and hit the side of his face, right above his jaw. He stumbled sideways into one of his evil minions, but all they did was push him back into me. " Tough enough for you, yet?" I say coldly, ignoring the searing pain above my eye. As he glares at me, I inspect my handiwork on his face. I can actually see the print of my shoe on his face, and enjoy the feeling of victory. He moves sluggishly, punches hard, and doesn't use his legs. Wait, how did I know that? He hasn't even moved yet. I ignore the strange feeling, and tackle him. Once he is on the ground, I stand up, and kick his... erm.... Let's just say it wasn't pleasant for him. That's when Mr. Jagger showed up. He grabs the back of his neck, and my elbow. His friends has scattered and ran for their lives. Cowards, I thought smugly. As he pulls us to wherever he is taking us, I see Conor, staring at us. I have had a crush on him since 3rd grade, when he helped me off the monkey bars, after I had crawled to the top, and was too scared to get down by myself. He has brown hair, shocking blue eyes, and perfect white teeth. Great, Conor see's me and another boy, obviously in trouble, with no back story. For all he knows, we were kissing in a hallway! Great,just great. And I am sure I look SUPER hot with a purple eye.
      
Mr. Jagger drags us both down to Mrs. Cass's room, the school guidance counselor, for her to deal with. Mrs. Cass had said because he hit first, I was performing self defense, and wasn't in trouble. She asked me if I wanted to call my Mom, and I lied and said that we didn't have a phone. She looked suspicious but bought into the story. We stood up and she walked me to the door. " Try and keep out of trouble, okay? I can tell you're a good kid." She said, looking at me with her loving brown eyes.  As I looked into them, I thought I saw a flash of  golf in them. I blinked, and shook my head. Probably just a trick of the light. She smiles once more at me, and walked back through the door to deal with my opponent.

     As I wait for the bus to pick me up, I begin to think about how I am going to tell my mom that I got in a fight today. A fight! I can see it now.....
" Hey, Katelyn, how was your day?" She would say, zoned into her computer. She would look up and gasp. " Katelyn, what happened to your eye?!" She'd exclaim. As I explain to her what had happened, I would see her eyes slowly harden with disappointment, her mouth forming a line, like it does when she's angry or ashamed with me. " Katelyn, you should have told a teacher, not gotten involved. You know better. Go to your room."
  I awoke from my daydream to discover that one of the boys from my bus was shaking my shoulder, telling me the bus was here. I walk home in a drizzle. The cloudy day had turned into a rainy one. I opened my front door, and breathed in through my nose, waiting for the usual smell of cinnamon and pumpkin, but the house is absent of it. I open my eyes to see the kitchen in a wreck.

     I look around in awe. The chairs were flipped over, broken, and the windows were cracked. There were shattered cups on the floor, and the ivy plant we had been growing was on the floor dirt everywhere. As I walk through the house, I realize all the other rooms were in the same condition. In the living room, our grey couch was ripped open, and the TV was facedown on the floor. In Mom's room, the mattress was bare and the stuffing was everywhere. As I walk up to my bedroom, I realize that our house could have been robbed, my Mom... No she is perfectly fine. But the criminal could still be here, waiting for me. I quietly walk down to the kitchen, on the lookout for any sign of movement, grab out big butcher knife, and pad back up the stairs. When I finally reach my room, I find my Mom, scratched, tired and bruised, packing some of my things into boxes. " Mom?" I ask gently. She turns her head to look at me, and I gasp in surprise. My mom's normally crystal blue eyes are a strange bronze. After we made eye contact, I feel a searing pain in my upper back, right over my spine. It feels like my back is splitting open, and someone is forcing a knife upwards from the inside to the out. I collapse onto my knees, tears streaming down my face, and only faintly hear her say " C'mon, Katelyn, it will be over soon!". Over soon? What is she talking about? I scream as the pain doubles, wiping any thought from my mind. The world begins to go dark, and my last image before I pass out, is my mother, standing over me, begging me to push through.

     When I finally wake up, I am on my bed. My mom must have carried me there, because she's sitting on the bed, waiting for me. " Mom, what happened?" I ask, terrified. She sighs. " I'm not sure how to explain, honey." " Try, please." I beg. She sighs again. " Our entire family... We are angels." She see's my shocked face. " Okay, not exactly Angels. We're alive, but we aren't human. We have wings, and can fly." " Okay, stop messing with me." I say disbelievingly. " Don't believe me?" She said, raising her eyebrow. " Go to the mirror and turn around, look at your back." I snort, but oblige. When I turn my neck, I gasp. My back has two white angels wings sprouting out from each side of my spine. I watch in awe as they flutter, revealing a golden feather for a split second. " M-mom?" I ask, terrified. " Why do I have w-w-wings?" " Because your an angel." She said shortly. After many minutes, I get over the total shock of having wings. " Ok, explain everything. Now." I say. " Well, we are angels. We are called Protectors in the Angelic society. We protect the world, the Galaxy, the universe. We protect everything from the biggest star to the smallest ant." She explains slowly, as if I were a small child. " Mom... you keep saying "protect". Protect from what?" I ask, confused. " From who." She corrects. " There is an alternate "society". They want to take over, and destroy the things they don't like. We protect everything, even things we dislike." " What's the other thing called?" I ask. " They call themselves the Infernals." " Did Dad know?" I ask softly, afraid of the answer. " Yes." She whispers. " He was one, too. He was killed by the Infernals." I bolt out of the room at the word "killed". I tell my wings to close and make themselves small, and, to my surprise, they do. I throw on my black Nike hoodie, and run back into the soggy streets, trying to get as far away from that word as possible.