"You were," said Pastor Warren. "Praise be you asked them."

"Praise be," said the fold.

"What about our newcomers, do either of you have any stories to share?"

I looked at Pastor Warren. Did I have any stories to share about encounters with angels? Let me think. Not really. Well, okay, I did have that one time when I shot one in the face. Did that count?

"No, Pastor Warren."

"Don't despair. Now that you have come to Commune, the Angels will see your reverence, and they will reward you."

"Oh good."

There were a few more tellings, similar to Annie's mundane everyday coincidences that reflected the truth about their faith. And maybe they were being rewarded. It just didn't seem like it. Anyway, I didn't care about the stories. I wanted to get to the bit when Mirabel floated. Or anyone floated for that matter.

And then we started to breathe. Well, it was what Pastor Warren called meditation, but I wasn't convinced.

I knew that meditation was supposed to be really great, and sometimes I wondered if I should take it up considering how my brain always seemed to be going at a crazy pace. But if meditation was anything like this, I wasn't interested.

We were told to close our eyes, and, under the instruction of Pastor Warren, to take in three deep breaths. Everyone made a big show of taking in these breaths. They were loud, and each exhalation came out as a heavy sigh. Then Pastor Warren left the circle-I knew this because we had to shuffle around a bit to close it up again-and told us to continue breathing in unison. The pace the group had chosen was faster than I normally breathed, and I started to find myself feeling a little light-headed.

"When I touc

News of Pastor Warren's Glory traveled fast. Sure, when Mirabel had floated it had been all hush-hush, but not with Pastor Warren. With Pastor Warren it was the talk of the town. He'd even been front-page news of our meager little excuse for a newspaper. Then again when a front-page news story could be about a coat being stolen from one of the high school lockers, that wasn't saying much.

You would have thought his floating would have led me and Gabe to investigate further. To go back to Commune. After all, apparently he really did have a connection with the angels, and he probably could have helped us. And at first I wondered if he could. I had made plans to visit him after school the next week. I'd have to go on my own because Gabe had told me in no uncertain terms after the Commune that he was never going back.

But as the week went by I felt something in my gut. Something that told me it just wasn't right. Maybe it was the way Pastor Warren reveled in the attention a bit too much. Maybe it was because he really didn't seem surprised or at least in awe of what happened. Maybe it was because, in reality, he looked just plain smug.

Also maybe 'cause magicians had been doing floating tricks for forever, and I didn't believe that it wasn't all just smoke and mirrors.

Still, I decided it would be stupid not to try talking to him about it, at least once. So when the week was over, I made my way out to the Church after school. As I approached the church and that big white square building with the tall tower on the side gleaming a little too perfectly in the foreground, I started to wonder if this was such a good idea.

I met him as he was locking up and heading over to his truck. He seemed startled to see me and gave me a strange look.

"Miss Carver," he said, "what a pleasant surprise. I'm afraid I don't have much time to talk at the moment."

"No, that's cool, Pastor Warren. I just wondered if I could ask you something about, you know...that night?" I followed him to the driver's side door and tried to smile sweetly.

"I explained everything for the newspaper, darling. Why don't you give that a read?" He took out his handkerchief and patted his upper lip. It wasn't particularly warm out, but come to think of it, I'd never seen a time when he didn't sweat.

"I did. It's just a quick question." The more I spoke, the more stupid I felt coming to talk to him.

"Okay then, darling. If it's quick."

"When you were floating, did you hear anything? Did anything speak to you, like in your head or anything?"

Pastor Warren looked at me carefully. Then he smiled. "I heard the chorus of angels," he said softly.

"What did they say?"

He smiled softly and shook his head. "Dar affected by our power at the kDivers...o...b..oksling, angels don't speak to you like I'm speaking to you now. They speak to your soul."

"Oh.reathing of th

It started small. With individuals.

At school Amber, for example, couldn't shut up about it and kept wanting to talk through the event in tiny details. Her experience at Commune had even seemed to have cured her of her fear of cheerleaders as she had just sat down at the table I shared with them and started nattering on.

Of course, the girls at the table actually found it really exciting, so they didn't mind her telling it. Over and over again. Except Lacy, who just sat looking bored because she wasn't the center of attention. At least that's how it appeared. I remembered what she'd said at the party, about the Church of the Angels being "super dumb." I wondered what she was thinking now.

Oh, what did it matter?

I stopped eating lunch with the cheerleaders after that.

I was back to being by myself, occasionally sitting with the math club who didn't seem to mind me joining them. Gabe was always absent from the cafeteria, outside loitering or hanging out with Charlotte. Not that I wanted him to sit with me. I didn't like the gossip. Even though affected by our powertykDivers...o...b..oks everyone looked at us like we were brother and sister more than anything, I knew they still didn't like seeing us together. It was weird. People were weird.

But then people in the town got weirder. Pastor Warren, who'd always been like the top guy anyway, became something more. The floating thing made his position rock solid. Totally validated his coming here. For being the leader of the Church of the Angels. His presence was now almost...divine. He was meant to be here. He was part of a great plan.

The changes happened in increments. They began with the little things.

I was sitting in third period English when Mr. Wood, the school's custodian, knocked on the door. We all looked up from our books as he was ushered in.

"What's going on?" I asked Amber.

"The council agreed with Pastor Warren that a statue of an angel should be placed in every room," replied Amber.

"What? Why would they agree to that?"

"Because he's right. It's a sign of respect to the angels."

I looked at the little bra.s.s object, a delicate androgynous figure wearing a robe, its wings folded back behind.

"They don't look like that," I said without thinking.

"How do you know? No one's ever seen one clearly," replied Amber looking at me with confusion.

"I guess...just never thought that they looked like that...could be wrong," I muttered and returned to reading my book.

After cla.s.s I noticed the large picture of Pastor Warren up next to the mayor's in the foyer. I couldn't understand it. Mother explained it to me when I got home. For some reason, now Pastor Warren was sitting on the town council. He'd tried to get onto it before, even ran for mayor two years ago. But the council had always liked keeping him in his place as only a religious leader. They liked their power, and he already had enough. Well, no one said that, it was just pretty obvious. But now Pastor Warren was invited to sit on the council as a special advisor. More than that, he'd somehow earned the right to have the final vote on any issue.

This meant he got say in school affairs too. By the time Christmas rolled around, he'd even made the selections of the songs the school choir was going to sing. He hadn't managed to usurp Father Peter's place in putting together the pageant, though. Father Peter might have been meek, but people still liked him, still wanted him around. And after all, the pageant was his thing. One of his only things.

Despite everything, Christmas actually turned out to be really nice that year. It was also a great distraction from everything that had happened in the past few months. My cousins from up north could never understand how we could celebrate without any snow, or it not being very cold at all. I'd seen enough movies to know how cozy it looked to spend Christmas in the traditional way. But I'd never been good with cold. And the idea of snow was always way more appealing to me than the reality. So I'd always enjoyed a Southern Christmas.

Our Christmases were always small affairs. Sometimes some of my mother's friends would come over in the afternoon. She'd have a little open house, where people could come and go as the please, have a gla.s.s of champagne, some finger food. Then it would just be family for the Christmas dinner. I liked it like that. But it was unusual, I guess, when you thought how big other folks' dinners were.

This year, of course, we had an addition to the family. Gabe was pretty adorable the entire holiday actually. I'd thought he might be all cynical affected by our power here.kidd about it, but I guess he'd never really had a proper Christmas, back when he used to be with his ma. He loved our artificial tree and was excited as a three-year-old to decorate it. He wanted to put up all the other decorations too, and it'd been years since we'd done that. So the wreath went over the front door, the garlands along the staircase banister. Stockings got hung up.

"Take mine, Gabe," said Daddy when we realized he wouldn't have one. But Gabe was having none of it.

"That's swell of you, Mr. Carver, but then where's the Claus gonna put your loot? Be back in a bit!" And he swept out the door. He returned half an hour later with another stocking and a dancing stuffed snowman he'd picked up at the card shop on Main.

"Check it out!" The little felt snowman moved back and forth in rhythm to its own music.

"Very nice," I said and laughed.

"Hey, I bought it with my own money..."

"Gabe, I said I thought it was nice. It's cute." And then I kissed him on the cheek. Everyone saw that, Mother, Daddy. Gabe of course grinned like crazy. Why'd I done that? It'd felt so right to do, it was so in the moment. I turned bright red.

"Okay, enough decorating, time to get the table set," said Mother, rescuing me. I followed her into the kitchen and helped her pull out the good china and the colored napkins. I brought out the plastic shopping bag with the crackers we'd bought the day before.

"So you and Gabe are really getting along aren't you?" she finally said. I knew she was going to say something.

"Well, sure, he's kind of like a brother now after living together so long," I said, rolling the cutlery into the napkins.

"Riley, it's okay to like him. He's a lovely boy," she said.

"Well, I don't, okay?" I guess I kind of snapped that back at her, because she stopped stirring the gravy and came over to me, leaning her hip against the cutlery drawer.

"Riley. You don't have to like him that way. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. It's just nice to see you finally getting over Chris."

I looked at her in disgust. "Over Chris? You think I'm over him? I'll never be over him. Would you be over Daddy if he'd been taken?"

"Riley, I'm not trying to say..."

"All anyone wants is for me to get over Chris. Well, I don't want to. He isn't dead. It's not all over."

My mother leaned in and grabbed me and held me. It was like everyone just always wanted to hug me. I tried to push her away, but my heart wasn't into it. I finally gave in and hugged her back.

"I feel so guilty," I said into her shoulder.

"I know."

"You know? You know what?"

"I know that you feel guilty. That you couldn't save him. But that you also feel guilty that you aren't missing him as much anymore. And you feel even more guilty because of Gabe."

I pulled my head from out of the crook of her neck and looked at her. "How do you know all this?"

She looked down at me and pushed my bangs off my forehead. "I lost both my parents at the same time, sweetie. I know what it's like to lose people you love. And I know how awful it feels when you realize you're moving on. It's okay not to miss him as much. Y

The next morning we all had the usual Christmas breakfast before opening presents. Predictably my mother got me clothes, this time a dress, red, looked like it would be too small. It went right into the back of the closet. Though she did get me a couple of books too, so that was nice. But Gabe more than made up for my lack of enthusiasm by giving her a big bear hug when he unwrapped his two s.h.i.+rts. Mother smiled at me over his shoulder, and I rolled my eyes.

Daddy had signed the cards with the gifts and secretly handed me a card with some cash in it. His present for Gabe was pretty cool too. He offered to help him out on his bike. Even though Gabe seemed to know what he was doing, I'd noticed that, with schoolwork and actual work at the garage, he hadn't really had time eye contact with him o probablyllto fix it up. My dad, of course, loved making things, and with them working together they'd get it done pretty fast. They actually started working on it that afternoon, with Gabe bringing it over from the shop once we were done lunch.

I liked watching them work. Normally I wouldn't like feeling left out of something like that, I'd want to get right in there and learn what they were doing too. But that day, it just felt really cozy sitting on the veranda with one of my new books and checking on their progress every once in a while.

We were such a little family unit now, and it was nice. It was also nice having a guy around the house when Daddy went back to work, and I could tell my mother found helping Gabe with his schoolwork and taking care of him to be an excellent distraction from being on her own so much. We settled into a pleasant little routine, and the angel thing started to move further and further to the back of my mind.

And just when it had almost slipped out of my consciousness entirely, my ghost stalker thingy was back.

Its return concerned me on two levels. The first was that I really didn't like the idea that I was being watched. Also I really didn't want it suddenly appearing in my room again, though so far it hadn't. It hadn't even tried talking to me again. Just stood outside my window every so often at night like it used to. However, it was the fact that I'd almost forgotten about it until it showed up the week after cla.s.ses had started up again that bugged me most. How could I have forgotten about it at all? How could I have been so reckless? Maybe it had come back because I'd forgotten about it. Maybe it wanted to remind me it was there.

Or, as something deep inside me felt, maybe I had somehow reminded it to stalk me. But that didn't make any sense.

I didn't bother Gabe about it. He was really more interested in having fun at school and working on his bike. Or at least that's what I told myself. I was pretty sure Gabe would not have reacted well if I told him I was being stalked still. So I hung out with him at home and at school and kept my secret to myself.

Hanging out with him at school had been a recent development and had meant I was instantly cool and allowed to be seen with his fellow seniors. I didn't really know what to do with the popularity, and I knew it was fleeting. After all, before the Christmas holidays I'd been sitting with Lacy and the cheerleaders until Amber started showing up as the new center of attention. I'd gone from that chick who sits with the cheerleaders back to my invisible status in record time. And now I'd been elevated again by Gabe.

I wondered if I'd ever just get to be respected for my relations.h.i.+p to me, not to anyone else.

I didn't mind hanging out with Gabe and his friends. They were okay people, not bad, not particularly interesting either. I did mind watching Gabe go through almost all the senior girls totally effortlessly, though. He just seemed like two different people sometimes, the friendly guy who cared about me and what happened to me at home, and the player at school.

Girls liked him because he was hot. They also liked him for the same reason I liked him. He made them feel special. But surely I was actually special. Wasn't I? Or maybe everyone was special to Gabe.

I hated how thoughts like that could get to me, just gnaw at me. It was probably for the best that we were in different years, so I didn't have to be with him all day. That I got some of my own down time away from him. Of course, there were others in my year I still had to contend with.

"Look what I got from Brett," said Amber as she sat next to me in study hall. Yes, Amber w affected by our power Lacy K2as still under the impression that we were super close friends even though we didn't hang out that much. I was surprised she hadn't sensed how I'd distanced myself from her after the Commune experience. It wasn't her new religious fervor that got to me. It had more to do with her creepy reverence for her boyfriend's dad. That just seemed...wrong.

I glanced up from my notebook and saw she was holding a red carnation.

"He sent you a Flower O'gram," I replied. The school did it every year for Valentine's Day. For a buck you could buy a red carnation and have it delivered to the person of your choice. Lacy always left the school with an overflowing bouquet. I wasn't nearly as fortunate. Always just the one that Chris would send me every year. As a friend thing.