Free Heavenly by Jennifer Laurens Page A

"No, it probably won't. See you after class."
    I went out feeling momentary power. Britt wasn't the only one who could wrap a teacher around her finger. I wasn't a
    teacher's pet by any means, but I was smarter than the average student behind the desk, and I had the respect of all my
    teachers because, in spite of my partying mentality, I always made time to learn.
    I headed for Journalism. Our next issue of the Gazette was already at the printer, so I snuck the time to study,
    rereading the chapters in American History, and researching prohibition again so the wild period of history was fresh in my
    mind for the essay.
    Mr. Brinkerhoffs favorite pastime was to point out paradoxical stories in history. He was passionate about the fact that
    twists of irony were the rebar that held earth and space in fair alignment. Maybe he didn't believe in a higher power, but the whole irony idea seemed kind of twisted to me.
    I checked my cell phone for new texts. None. Britt and I usually never stayed mad at each other for more than a
    couple of hours. But with Weston in her life now, I had no idea how long she'd be pissed at me.
    With nothing in my life but my problems, the next few days looked unbearably long. But not so unbearable that I
    wanted to be the first to apologize. I always apologized first. Today, I'd apologized to Luke. But then, I'd been the one to call him stupid. I cringed. Why did the nastiness I locked away in my heart sneak out when my tongue started to whip?
    Inevitably, I hated myself afterwards.
    I sat back and sighed. Other class members laughed and teased each other. A paper airplane flew over my head. I
    envied the other students. The girls spent their free time taunting the boys, who flirted back. Chase Webster and I were the
    lone wolves, always on the hunt for the next hot story.
    Chase was an intellectual outcast. He had the whole Clark Kent thing going on with his glasses, khaki's and polo's. I
    liked talking with him because he actually thought about things. I could see his brain working behind his round brown eyes.
    Like now. He sat, tipped back in his metal chair, studying whatever it was he was looking at on the computer.
    I wondered what he'd think of the whole Matthias thing. He happened to look over and I looked away. How
    embarrassing. It's not like I liked him. I just happened to be looking at him and he happened to look over. Simple.
    Chancing a second look, I caught him still watching me. I smiled, got up and went over. My direct approach took him
    off guard. He looked up too fast, lost his teetering balance, and toppled backwards in the chair. The clattering brought all
    noise in the room to a stand still. Then the class broke out in applause. I dropped down and reached out to help him. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"
    His face was red.
    "Way to go. Chase," someone snickered.
    Chase scrambled to his feet and set his chair upright. His glasses sat askew on his nose and he pushed them into place,
    straightening his polo shirt. "I'm fine. Thanks. Hi."
    "Hi." I pulled a chair closer and sat.
    Wide-eyed, he stood staring at me, as if deciding whether or not I was really there. Seconds passed and he finally sat
    down. "Can I help you?"
    "Um." I glanced around, made sure everyone was back to their useless time wasting. "Maybe you can, actually."
    "Sure. Okay"
    "Do... do..." How to phrase this and not sound like I had one hen loose in the barn. "Do you believe in angels?"
    Behind his spectacles, his big eyes blinked. "Well. Metaphysically or spiritually?"
    "Both, I guess."

    "Good answer, Zoe, because both are possible. It's just that some people's beliefs are born of spiritual roots, while
    others are born of scientific. Do you have a preference?"
    "I just want to know if you think they exist."
    "I'd like to think they exist. In fact, my roots come from an experience I once had when I was seven years old. My
    great aunt passed away. We went to her funeral and I saw her, lying in the coffin. It was the first