An Angel's Word

An Angel Is Only As Good As His Word

Her parents call her their gift, doctors called her a miracle, and scientists refered to her as that one percent that lived but shouldn't of had, but to Nova, she was just Nova, a girl who had the odds placed against her when she was created and had been ever since.

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I woke up with a start; I had completely forgotten about that damned alarm clock! My heart was hammering in my chest, just because of that little piece of- School!  I jumped out of bed and rushed to my closet, hastily grabbing ripped skinny jeans, a ripped white shirt, a black tank top, and my black and white converse.

          I ran in front of the mirror and raked my fingers through my auburn hair. Thankfully, I had naturally curly hair (the good kind, not the frizzy, bushy, crazy kind), which worked well with my habit of oversleeping my alarm. I lightly dusted a small amount of light powder over my face, just enough to give my face color and to calm down the few freckles sprinkled across my nose.  I swiped some mascara onto my lashes to draw attention to my amber eyes.  Done, I thought triumphantly. I raced downstairs, grabbing an apple and my keys.

          "Avalynn, a single apple does not qualify as breakfast," My mother rebuked, glancing up from her newspaper.

          "Then I'll have two-but Mom, why can't you just call me Nova like everyone else?" I demanded impatiently.  Even my father called me Nova!

          "If I had wanted my daughter’s name to be Nova, I would have named her Nova.  I named you Avalynn; get used to it."

          I grumbled as she looked back down to her newspaper.  I trudged sulkily out the door and made damn sure I slammed it on my way out.  At that moment, my gaze landed on something that took every bit of crankiness away.

          Sitting in my driveway, as beautiful as ever, was my shiny black Nova, the very thing that earned me my nickname. I ran a loving hand over her hood.

          "Hey baby," I crooned softly.  I had built her from the ground up, starting at the age of ten, finishing when I was twelve.  During her patching time, my dad's friend called me 'Little Nova'.  It stuck, and eventually people dropped the 'little', and now everyone knew me as Nova.

          I slid into the seat and turned the key in the ignition, .

          "I'm running late today, you think you can get me there, baby?". She answered me with a roar of her engine as if she were saying 'you know I can'.  I patted her dash fondly and pulled out of the driveway.

          A few broken speed limits and a run-through red light later, I jerked my baby into a spot. A group of populars jumped back when I pulled in. I hopped out and shut the door.

          "You're late." Ashley Meeks told me with a glare.

          "I can see that." I snapped.  Jace Wayland, Stephen Gresham, and a tall, golden-blonde boy that I’d never met before were standing beside her. The tall boy was staring at my car.  He reached out to touch her and I slapped his hand away.

          "Don't even think about it. My car. You can look at her all you want, but so help me God, if you lay so much as a finger on her I will break your arm.  I don't care if you're about to fall.  Don't touch her." My voice was icy, but the boy looked at me in bewildered amusement. Jace chuckled and hit the boy on the shoulder.

          "It's okay, no one is allowed to touch the Nova; only Nova, it's like her kid." Jace told him with a grin.  He (Jace) had to be the only popular I didn't  constantly feel an urge to beat in the face.  Stephen snorted.