Angel (or is it Maria?)

Chapter One

Angel was once an orphan, but not any more. Now she lived with a mother who loved her and cared for her, and she lived like a normal kid. She wasn't normal . . . but she didn't know that yet.

Right now she was sleeping. The time was 6:00 in the morning, and her alarm had just begun to chime loudly. Deaf to its continuous ringing, Angel lay still fast asleep, completely motionless.

Her mom strode into the room and tapped the off button on Angel's loud alarm. Bending over, she gently shook Angel's shoulders. "Honey, time to wake up and get ready for school."

Angel sat up and yawned sleepily. "Didn't you hear the alarm?" her mother asked.

"No, I didn't," Angel said apologetically. "I'm really tired." then she added groggily, "I don't think I got enough sleep last night."

"I'm sorry to hear that," her mother said. "No sleeping in class, OK?"

"Mph."

Finally Angel heaved herself out of bed. Her feet felt like lead. She felt like a walking brick, and she figured she could probably fall back asleep standing up if she let herself.

She brushed her teeth, put her clothes on, and brushed her hair before slowly and tiredly thumping down the stairs for breakfast.

Her mom, who was in the kitchen, smiled. "Well, you are sluggish this morning!"

Angel sighed. "Sorry." She slid into her chair and began to eat the breakfast her mother had prepared for her.

"Honey, are you sure you're feeling all right? Usually you're quite the morning person," her mother said worriedly, appearing suddenly behind Angel's shoulder.

"Just a little tired," Angel reassured her, and took another bite of her egg.

It was math class. Mrs. Abrams sure is droning on today, Angel thought. She slumped in her seat. Who cared about the angles of a triangle? Not her, that's who.

Her head slipped onto her hand. Her eyes drooped. I am not going to fall asleep . . . she thought. Seconds later, her hand collapsed and her head hit the desk. Angel was fast asleep.

Hearing the thud that signalled Angel's snooze, her teacher whipped her head around and scanned the classroom for anything out of the ordinary. Mrs. Abrams was one of those teachers who gave you detention for rocking your chair. She was one of those teachers who wished she could bring spanking back. She was one of those teachers who made you wonder how she could be a "Mrs."

Seeing Angel slumped heavily over her desk, she strode through the desks and stopped beside Angel, where she said, "Miss Lane!" rather sharply and angrily. Angel snapped her head up and gulped. "Sorry, Mrs. Abrams!" she said truthfully as her teacher whipped out a small card and began to scratch something on it with a pen. She thrust the card at Angel. Angel's heart sank: it was a detention slip! Oh, her mom was going to be so mad . . . and the irony of it all, too! Hadn't her mother specifically told her not to fall asleep in class just this morning? (Except she had meant it as a joke.) It was so funny, it wasn't funny.

"I'm disappointed in you, Angel!" Mrs. Abrams glowered, before returning to the front of the classroom, leaving Angel sitting at her desk glumly, with all the other kids sniggering.

It was now just about time for detention to end . . . the bell rang, and all the kids cooped up in desks in that dreaded room ran for the exits. However, this time, one child remained. The detention monitor got out of his chair and cautiously walked over to the remaining child. It was Angel, sleeping!