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HALLOWED HALLS ~by Patty Shaw

Forward

The halls of Lincoln High School were crowded with children trying too hard to be adults. Couples walked hand-in-hand, arm-in-arm, while most of the students walked in small, like-dressed groups, discussing such important topics as Mrs. Luminsky's biology quiz, who-asked-whom to Friday night's dance or what would be this day's inedible fare at the school cafeteria. No one noticed the two glowing figures sitting atop lockers numbered 694 and 695.

"Oh, Tess," said the younger of the two angels, "I am so thrilled that my assignment is at a school. Young people, full of life and dreams..."

Tess looked sadly at Monica and captured the beautiful young angel's hand in her own, patting it then holding it in her lap. "Angel-Girl, all is not as it seems in this school. On the surface, it is a bright and happy place of learning, but underneath, an evil lies." Monica pulled her gaze from her troubled mentor's eyes in time to see a student approach the locker next to those on which she and Tess were perched.

Unlike the other students they had seen, this young man was alone. Dressed entirely in black, his eyes were covered with dark sunglasses, completely inappropriate for the soft fluorescent lighting in the school hallways.

"Why does he cover his eyes indoors?" Monica mused.

"I don't know, Baby. Sometimes, when people shade their eyes, it is really their soul they are hiding." Tess watched as the boy opened the locker next to Monica's and sorted through the items, choosing a text book and slamming the door shut. The sound caused both angels to start as they watched him stalk away. They knew it did not take an angel to feel the anger in his heart.

"Is he to be my assignment, then?" Monica asked of Tess. Tess was not only her teacher and her mentor, she was her friend and inspiration. Tess always knew more of the assignment than Monica and sometimes revealed less than Monica would have preferred. Tess, she knew, wanted her student to not only help her assignments through whatever troubled times they were facing, but she also wished for Monica to learn the things she needed to one day become an independent caseworker. Eventually, they both knew, Tess would be called to other duties.

"No, Monica. That young man will have another angel assigned to him." The look in Tess's eyes seemed even more troubled than before. Monica sat quietly and awaited her instructions. With a sigh, Tess continued, "You will be here as a school counselor so that all of the children of Lincoln High will have easy access to you. You must find out what is troubling this school."

"The WHOLE school?" Monica asked incredulously. Tess nodded her head almost imperceptibly and Monica noticed the start of a crystal tear forming in her teacher's eye.

Both angels gracefully dropped from their perches to stand before the locker visited by the dark young man. Though the locker had a formal number plate bolted on the front like every other locker in the long halls of the school, the angels saw that the second of the three numbers had been scratched out and replaced with a number 6. Instead of locker 696, the number now read 666.

Monica turned to exchange a look with Tess, but the older angel was no longer there. Instead, her eyes fell on another glowing figure headed in the same direction as the troubled boy. He turned only a moment, but it was enough for Monica to realize she had to find the counselor's office quickly and begin her work at Lincoln High. "Andrew..."

*****

Monica instinctively made her way to the school's office where she expected to see a line of students waiting for her counsel. Instead, she was greeted only by a middle-aged African-American woman of considerable size. Her eyes were tired but exuded a warmth that momentarily helped Monica forget the sadness she had felt at seeing her friend and colleague just moments before in the hallway.

"Hello! You must be the new counselor." The woman stuck out her dark hand in greeting. "My name is Latasha Washington. I'm your secretary... and the principal's secretary... and the dean of student's secretary..." There was a flash of amusement in her voice as she let the sentence linger in the air, knowing she had made the point clear that she was the only secretary Lincoln High possessed.

"I'm Monica," the angel said as she offered her own hand in greeting. "I expected to see more children here." Monica gestured her free hand towards the vacant seats in the waiting area outside the counselor's office door.

Latasha Washington let out a hearty laugh that did not reflect in her eyes. "Honey, don't you know kids don't need no counselors?" Her misuse of the language was no accident, as she waved her hand in dismissal to Monica's inquiry. "They don't need no adults. Period. They know everything. And they'll tell you that every day. The truth is, the only thing they don't know is that they don't know anything."

The school's only secretary made her way over to the office that Monica was to possess for the duration of this assignment. She opened the door and flipped on the light switch that flooded the small room with the same soft, yet bright lighting that had illuminated the halls. Monica followed Mrs. Washington into the room and looked at the drab surroundings.

The room smelled of lemons, no doubt from the oils used in the vain attempt to restore some of the glow to the wooden furniture and bookshelves that filled the room. The desk was small but adequate and Monica could tell that Mrs. Washington had taken great care to stock it with all of the items necessary for a counselor to fulfill her duties. A tin of sharpened pencils, a stapler, paper clips, rubber bands. Monica noted with some gratefulness that one wall was lined with filing cabinets, and there was no computer in sight. Monica had never mastered the personal computer and was relieved that the student files were of the paper variety.

Latasha gave Monica a quick inventory of her desk contents and reviewed the filing system. To Monica's delight, she was afforded her own coffee maker with a personal stock of flavored coffees. The first pot was already steaming on the burner with a cup on the counter waiting to be filled with the hot brew.

"Now, then, Madam Counselor," began Mrs. Washington, "You should have everything you need to get started. That is," she said with a chuckle, "everything but a student." She giggled as she turned to leave, hesitating at the door. "My desk is in the central office where you can easily call for me. I'm here to help you, so don't hesitate to call."

Monica smiled broadly, feeling a kinship with the kind secretary. She watched the woman leave and turned to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Hold on there, Miss Wings!" Monica smiled at what she knew to be the beginning of a familiar lecture. "You don't need to be starting on that poison already." Tess's eyes revealed the good humor that her face tried hard to conceal. Monica's passion for coffee was well-known to her mentor and Tess simply could not allow the opportunity to tease her ward slip by.

"Oh, Tess. Just one little cup?" Monica pleaded.

Tess decided the mock-argument could wait. Other matters required the attentions of both angels. "Now, listen here, Angel-Girl. There is much work to be done here. The Father needs you to help prevent a tragedy that could happen here at any time."

"Tragedy?" Monica was truly baffled. "But it seems so quiet here. Why, there aren't any children even needing my help. Look outside the door. Not a single student has come to see me."

"That," frowned Tess, "is the beginning of the tragedy. When these kids stop coming to adults and start keeping all of their problems to themselves, that is when the real trouble begins."

Monica nodded her understanding. It was not uncommon for her assignment to be to seek out the truth hidden beneath layers and layers of lies and deception. It was apparent to her that at Lincoln High School, the truth was not going to come to her freely. She would have to seek it, and sitting in the dreary counselor's office would not help the search.

"Tess, what part in this has The Father assigned to you?"

"Believe me, Angel-Girl. I will have my part." The sadness that Monica had seen earlier that day resurfaced in her mentor's eyes. "You just worry about yours." With that, Tess was gone.

*****

The second bell let out a long, shrill scream as a signal to students and teachers alike that any of them still left in the hallway were to be considered tardy to their third period class. Teachers disregarded the warning since teachers were not punished for such an infraction. Students lingered because being late did not seem to matter much to them.

Andrew encouraged a group of girls to wrap up their conversation and head off to class before he proceeded to the classroom marked with the legend: 1A History Mr. Thornton. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door shut behind him as he entered the room. Like many other classrooms Andrew had ever seen in the late 20th Century, this room was filled with neatly lined desks, facing toward the front of the room where an enormous dust-covered chalkboard expanded the length of the wall behind the teacher's desk. There were blinds on the five windows that covered the wall opposite the door and Andrew could see from where he stood that the only view from those windows was another row of windows from what was probably an identical classroom across a courtyard. Refocusing his attention to the waiting class, Andrew saw twenty-two sets of eyes looking at him in questioning silence. It was impossible to tell what the twenty-third set of eyes might be looking at--or looking through.

"Good morning. My name is Mr. Andrew." Without a formal surname, the angel felt it would be best to retain a certain formality by adding the title "mister" to his name. It felt awkward, but nothing about this assignment felt comfortable. "I will be your substitute teacher while Mr. Thornton is away with his wife who just had a baby girl."

With the announcement came a loud cheer from the class. Mr. Thornton was obviously quite popular with this class and Andrew was immediately warmed by the response. He smiled as he raised his hands to quiet the class, glancing around the room to look at his assignment. Sunglasses still securely in place, Robert Farley's glare was clear through the tinted plastic.

"Robert," Andrew began as he approached the brooding youngster, "I don't think you need those sunglasses in this lighting." He put his hand out casually, a gesture for the boy to hand him the glasses. Robert removed the sunglasses from his head and placed them in the pocket of his long, black raincoat, all the while never looking at the angel. Andrew withdrew his hand and nodded to Robert to show his satisfaction. If Robert wondered how this substitute teacher could possibly know his name already, his posture did not betray him.

The other students watched the confrontation with amusement. The girls tittered in their gossipy clicks while humorless giggles filled the classroom. A muscular student wearing a letterman's jacket with "Lincoln Patriots" blazoned on the back turned to look at Robert with a disapproving eye. "Don't mind him, Mr. Andrew. Bobby-boy there is harmless. His future's just so bright, he's got to wear shades."

The class roared at the irony of the statement almost as much as at the outdated pop-song reference. Andrew stood in horror as the class came to life in response to the mockery of a young man who had apparently done no wrong. He hesitated only a moment before bringing the class to order.

"All right. That's enough." Andrew made his way to the yellowed desk which had seen too many years and too many coats of polyurethane. His eye did not leave his assignment as he picked up a thick textbook and opened it to a bookmarked page. It was no mistake that the book was marked to open on a chapter covering the famous speech of the school's namesake.

"The Ghettysburg Address," Andrew began. He began reciting the speech as it was written in the textbook but the students in the class understood that the words were not being read. Andrew closed his eyes. "...conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men..." He paused, opening his eyes to look directly into the 23 sets of eyes in the classroom before him. "...all men and women...are created equal."

The words had barely left Andrew's mouth when Robert Farley quietly and almost gracefully, stood and turned towards the door.

"Robert," Andrew called to Robert's back.

Robert stopped, but did not turn around.

"All men are created equal. Everywhere but Lincoln High."

He turned long enough to flash a wicked wink to his classmates and he was gone.

*****

Monica recognized the boy as soon as she saw him. She had known to begin her search for truth somewhere in A-wing of the school, but she did not expect to see the young man from locker 666 exiting Andrew's classroom.

Robert Farley was small for his age. Not short, but his body swam within the bulk of the trench coat he wore. The coat was a type worn by cowboys known as a duster. It was the deepest black, like everything else the boy wore. Monica noted that Robert's dark hair was cut extremely short for a teenager, making his head appear almost bald. His complexion hosted a bed of acne that, from a distance, made Robert look as if his face were sunburned. The only hint of color he wore was in the brass buckles of his leather boots. His jeans were extremely loose around his ankles, not unlike the fashion chosen by many of the students in the school. His T-shirt was clean but disproportionately long, hanging well below his waistline. By the time Monica saw him in the hallway, he had replaced the black sunglasses to his face.

"Robert? Robert Farley?" Like Andrew, Monica was aware of this and every other child's name at Lincoln School. "Why are you out of class?"

"I've gotta go to the bathroom." His gate never slowed.

He brushed past her not realizing that his purposeful bump did not budge Monica. She glanced from boy to classroom, unsure to which direction she should turn.

As if in answer to her question, Andrew appeared in the doorway of the classroom and called for her to speak to him. Her eyes continued to follow Robert Farley even as she began to walk in the opposite direction.

"Monica," Andrew began, "I need to go after him. Would you mind watching my class for a few minutes?"

"All right. What should I do?"

"Talk to them." Andrew touched Monica's arm in a reassuring way and jogged down the hallway. Monica took a deep breath and entered the classroom.

*****

"Hello, everyone." The angel's thick Irish accent made the word "Hello" sound more like "Hallow." The class, still talking about Robert's abrupt departure barely noticed her entrance. "I'm Monica. The new counselor. Andrew has gone to check on Robert." Monica had been unaware of Andrew adding the "Mister" to his name.

"Andrew?" asked a blonde girl sitting next to the letterman. "We thought it was Mister Andrew."

"Yes, of course it is," corrected Monica. Wishing to quickly change the subject from names, she made her way to the desk and picked up the textbook from which Andrew had been reading. "Ah, the Ghettysburg Address. What a wonderful piece of literature. Would you like to talk about it?"

From the back of the classroom, a young girl raised her hand. Her hair was red, but more orange than Monica's own crimson mane. Her face was covered with freckles that she did not attempt to hide with make-up and her posture made her appear shy and reserved. When Monica nodded to her to proceed, she answered without raising her eyes from her desktop. "Isn't the Ghettysburg Address about freeing slaves?"

Before Monica could answer, another member of the class began to speak, as if he had not heard the girl's question. "It's about when Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves," his answer repeated.

"Well, yes, but it's more," Monica said. Her voice was soft and soothing and commanded an unusual amount of attention from the 22 students seated at their desks. "It is about treating all people the same, no matter what they look like, or act like, or believe in. It is about freedom for everyone, no matter how rich or poor they are, no matter where their ancestors are from...."

Derek Hanson, the letterman who had teased Robert about his sunglasses broke Monica's sentence. "Look, there's no slavery in this school. Everyone is free to come and go whenever they want. No one's keeping us here. Old Bob just proved that when he got up and walked out in the middle of class." He looked at the class waiting for their approval, which came instantly.

"Yes, Derek, but there is more to freedom than coming and going when you want." Monica paused only long enough to take a step closer to the students of Mr. Thornton's class. "Freedom comes from within. If your soul is not free, then you might as well be behind bars. Robert is free to leave the classroom, but you mustn't think for a moment that he is free of whatever hurt him so badly that he felt he needed to leave." She turned her eyes to the door. "Robert is very much a slave to his anger."

*****

Robert headed toward his locker but before reaching it, turned to go into a bathroom just outside the school's offices.

"And just where do you think you're going, Mr. Farley?" It was Latasha Washington, her eyes twinkling with the satisfaction of a cat that just cornered a mouse. "Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

Robert stopped and turned, rolling his eyes as soon as he heard the woman's voice. He knew the school's secretary quite well, and she him, having spent countless hours sitting outside the Dean of Student's office. "Don't you people have something better to do than to harass me? I have to use the toilet."

Mrs. Washington's smile didn't falter. "OK, Robert. Where's your pass?" She knew he possessed none.

"Look, lady. I had to go fast or I'd wet myself. I'll get one in a minute, but if you don't let me go, you're going to have to find the janitor real quick."

"All right, Robert," said Latasha Washington with a sigh. "Go ahead. And get back to class."

"Yeah. Whatever," came Robert's reply and off he went into the bathroom.

He was not surprised to find that the room was not empty. Standing at the sink washing his hands was the Dean of Students. Mr. Daemon was a striking figure, commanding respect from students and teachers alike. His dark hair and eyes were enhanced by the perfectly tailored black suit, complete with tie tack and cufflinks. Robert did not recognize the symbol adorning the jewelry, but noted that he had never seen Mr. Daemon without the ornaments.

The Dean of Students straightened his six foot three frame and reached to the wall dispenser to acquire a towel to dry his neatly manicured hands. Robert seemed even smaller in this man's presence, but he stood tall and relaxed in the dean's charisma.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Farley?" Mr. Daemon tossed the paper towel into the trash and folded his arms in front of him. He was smiling and Robert vaguely noted that the smile created no apparent laugh-lines on his smooth face. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

Robert did not give one of his usual sarcastic answers to the man before him. His cocky attitude seemed to melt away and he felt no need to cover the truth from this particular authority figure. "I should be but I didn't feel like being there. I don't like your substitute."

Daemon raised his eyebrows and his smile faded only momentarily. "I was unaware that a substitute had been called. Where is Mr. Thornton, I wonder."

"Mr. Andrew said his wife had a baby. Whatever." Robert really did need to relieve himself. He headed toward the first stall before being stopped by the Dean.

"Go back to class, Robert. We'll talk later."

Robert Farley turned and left the bathroom, forgetting the reason he had gone in there.

*****

Andrew met Robert in the hallway outside the men's room. Although the sunglasses were securely in place, Andrew could see a difference in Robert's demeanor. He seemed calmer, as if some revelation had come to him in the last three minutes since leaving the classroom. Andrew knew the boy was deeply troubled and truly wanted to find the truth.

"Are you all right, Robert?" the angel asked. He hoped against hope that Robert would say "No," so that a dialogue could begin, but instead, all Andrew received was a nod as the boy walked past him back towards the classroom. At least, Andrew thought, he is headed in the right direction.

*****

Andrew gave Monica a reassuring smile as he and Robert returned to the classroom. She was all too ready to return to her office, since she knew that was where Tess had intended her to be. She looked around the room at the 23 faces, smiled and left the room to Andrew.

Andrew decided the lecture could wait until another day, so he gave the class a reading assignment and sat behind the desk to wait out the remainder of the class.

*****

When the bell rang and the young men and women of Mr. Thornton's History class began to file out of the room, Andrew called for Robert Farley to stay behind. It was Robert's lunch hour and Andrew knew he could spare a few minutes without being late for his next class. The angel was almost surprised when the troubled student paused in front of the teacher's desk without remark.

"Robert, I'd like to talk to you about what happened here today. Why did you leave?"

"Look, you're a substitute. You don't know how it is around here." Robert's bitterness bled through each word as he spoke the sad truth of Lincoln High School. "If you're not rich, if you don't hang out with the in-crowd, if you got zits or are fat or ain't a jock or a brain, you ain't nothin' at all. You gotta be what they say you gotta be or they got no use for you." Robert was surprised by his willingness to open up to this stranger but found that now that he had begun to speak, the words were flowing without hesitation. "I'm sick of being treated like dirt. They think I don't hear them laughing. But I do. I hear it all day. Every day. It sucks."

Andrew had seen human beings hurt each other for more years than he liked to remember. He had been chosen to become an Angel of Death after witnessing the most horrible death of Abraham Lincoln, the man for whom this very school had been named. He was not able to help the executioner from his chosen separation from the Father. The loss of the soul of John Wilkes Booth forever weighed on Andrew's shoulders. He knew his primary duty to the Father was to bring His children home, but the Angel of Death never walked away from a soul in crisis.

"Robert," Andrew began as he searched for the right words to help this angry young man, "I understand better than you think I do. It is not only young people who suffer this kind of discrimination. There is hatred and anger all over the world. But, there is also God, and He loves you. More than you will ever know..."

Andrew never completed his words. Robert turned and walked out of the room.

*****

Monica returned to the counselor's office only moments before the sound of the bell released the students of Lincoln High from the confines of the classroom. She briefly noted that Latasha Washington was not at her desk, but dismissed it as being nothing too out of the ordinary for the overworked secretary. Still, no students awaited her counsel, so she decided a cup of coffee would refresh her spirit as she decided what should be her next course of action.

The angel poured herself a cup and took her place behind the desk before noticing the single manila folder which was placed in the center of the blotter. Monica was certain the folder had not been there when she left the office earlier that morning and decided someone had intentionally placed it where she could not miss noticing it. She set her coffee cup down without so much as smelling the aroma of the hot beverage and looked at the name that was neatly typed on the tab of the folder. Melissa Porter. Just as Monica began to open the file to see its content, the freckled young red-haired girl from Andrew's class appeared in the doorway. Monica knew the folder was hers.

"Hello, Melissa. I am glad to see you." Monica's sincerity encouraged a smile on the shy girl's mouth, a smile Monica was sure rarely exposed itself. "Why don't you come in and sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?" She gestured to the coffee maker behind her.

"Oh, no thank you, Miss Monica. I don't drink coffee." Melissa moved to the chair in front of the desk and slowly lowered herself onto the wooden seat. She held her books close to her breast, almost seeming to disappear behind them. She kept her beautiful green eyes lowered, afraid to make eye contact with the woman before her. Monica felt no need to rush the conversation. She sat down and took a sip of her coffee, carefully moving the folder to the far side of the desk where Melissa could not see that it was her own.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Monica asked, still smiling her sweet, welcoming smile.

"Well, it's...." Melissa's words trailed off followed by a long pause. Monica knew patience. She waited. "It's just, well, I'm kind of worried about Robert."

Monica lowered her cup and folded her hands in front of her. "Robert Farley?"

"Yes, ma'am. I just have a feeling something's not right with him."

"What's not right with Robert, Melissa?" Monica was truly intrigued. The angels assigned to this case knew that there was an as yet unknown problem with the dark young man, but what had this girl so concerned?

"Well, it's just that he's different. He's changed. He just seems so angry. He didn't used to be this way. He used to be like everyone else. He was nice and funny and pretty smart. It's just been over the past few months that he's started dressing so funny and doing stuff like walking out of class and smarting off to teachers. I think you should talk to him."

Monica sensed more than just a classmates concern from Melissa. "Do you have feelings for Robert, Melissa? Are you his girlfriend?" Melissa instantly shrunk back into the chair in which she was seated. She tightened her grip on her books and turned her entire body away from Monica. Her embarrassment was clear to the angel who searched frantically for a way to ease the situation. Monica stood up and crossed to the front of the desk, leaning her weight on the yellowed wooden top. "It's ok, Melissa. Nothing you say here will ever go beyond that door. I want to help Robert, too."

Melissa's posture lightened as she realized that she trusted Monica completely. She slowly shook her head. "No, I don't think he even knows I exist. But that doesn't mean I don't care about him. "

Monica hoped Melissa could give the angels some insight into what was bothering Robert Farley. She decided to ask, "Why do you think Robert has changed? Has something happened to him?"

Melissa paused a moment, thinking about her answer. "I don't think so. I mean, some of the other kids have always sort of teased him, you know, about stupid things. Like, you know, his acne and his size. But he's always just laughed it off, and sometimes, he even beats them to the punch and makes fun of himself first. Derek gives him a hard time, but I think Derek really thinks Robert's ok. It's just that jocks will be jocks."

Monica looked at her coffee cup and thought about Tess's gentle teasing over Monica's love of the drink. It always made Monica feel warm and loved when she and her mentor sparred over it. Surely, teasing from friends had not brought about this change in Robert.

"Thank you for letting me know this, Melissa." Monica stood and stepped aside so Melissa could stand. "I will try to help Robert if I can. In the meantime, maybe Robert would like to know that he has a friend. Perhaps you could talk to him as well."

"Maybe. After lunch. We both have a study hall."

"I think studying together is a lovely idea. Enjoy your lunch." And with that, the red-haired young lady left the counselor's office.

*****

Mr. Daemon was waiting for Robert in front of locker number 696 when the boy returned after his troubling meeting with Andrew. The Dean of Students felt the boys confusion and knew it was time to set Robert Farley straight. "So, you think a substitute teacher can change the way you are treated by the other students in this school? Do you think he's going to change the years of pain and grief they have put you through?" Robert did not respond, but looked longingly back towards the classroom where an adult had taken time to notice him. "Look at me, boy. Listen to me. He thinks he has all the answers, but in a few days, he'll be gone and it will be just you and them. The way it has always been. You have planned for this day for a long time. The choice is yours, but you should realize, the opportunity may never come around again. Think about it."

With that, the charismatic older man was gone and Robert was left alone in front of his locker. The locker which was peculiarly altered to read 666.

*****

Melissa had left a few minutes ago, heading for the cafeteria and Monica was sure Tess would be back to review the events of the morning with her. She had not expected to look up and see the tall man standing in the doorway to her office. Although she had never met the Dean of Students of Lincoln High School, she was certain that she knew him from somewhere before. Unlike the children in the school, Monica had no idea of his name and she felt a distinct discomfort in his presence.

"Monica, I presume? I am Mr. Daemon His voice was low and calm and Monica felt almost charmed by his tone. However, her uncertainty would not waiver and she instinctively felt the need to guard herself carefully against this man. She pushed past the uneasiness and found her voice.

"Yes, sir. And you are the Dean of Students?" Monica put out her hand but was jolted when the Dean returned what should have been a friendly gesture of shaking hands. His hand was icy cold and Monica barely felt his touch even though she sensed his firm grip. She quickly withdrew her hand and clasped it with her other in an attempt to regain some warmth. The angel retreated back behind her desk and realized that she was trembling in fear.

"You can not change what will happen at this school today, my dear Angel-girl," he declared in that same calm, soothing, yet ominous voice.

The mockery of Tess's pet name for her seared through Monica's soul as the meaning of the words became instantly clear. This was no man. The horror he brought to Lincoln High had already begun.

*****

"Baby, there is something the Father wants me to tell you." It was Tess. Daemon had no sooner left the room when Monica's friend returned to her side. In her relief, the younger angel allowed her tears to flow as she fell into Tess's arms. "Angel Girl, listen to me. You know now what evil lies within the walls of this school. A terrible tragedy is about to happen. The Father needs you now more than ever..."

*****

Andrew was pleased to have the task of monitoring the cafeteria during this lunch period. The duty often fell upon the day's substitute teachers, since they were deemed "low man on the totem pole." On this particular day, that unwritten rule suited the angel's needs, since it would give him a chance to observe Robert Farley without imposing his presence on the boy. He was sure that Robert was not beyond his help, Andrew just needed to find out what was troubling him.

The angel stood at the end of the serving line beside the cashier. From this location in the corner, he was able to monitor the entire room without being noticed. Andrew easily noted that the children all seemed happy to be out of class and among their friends, and conversation seemed lively and light. The angel could not help but smile at the grumbling over the day's meatloaf being served and was tempted to try a bite, just to see what all the fuss was about.

A commotion in line interrupted his musings and Andrew turned his attention to the middle of the line where Robert Farley was apparently the center of a confrontation. "What's for lunch, Bob?" Derek lifted Robert's tray off the serving line and began thumbing through the contents. "Oh, lookey here. Bob's got some green jello." Students around them laughed nervously, but it wasn't certain to Andrew if the laughter was out of embarrassment for Robert or respect for the school's star athlete. Throughout the ordeal, Robert stood completely still, glaring out into the room. He made no attempt to defend himself or his lunch and it seemed to Andrew that he was simply waiting for Derek to get bored and move along. Andrew had the idea that this was not an unusual occurrence.

Derek continued filtering through Robert's lunch for a few moments before plopping it back down onto the serving rack with a thud that made the food bounce off the tray. "That's a nice, nutritious lunch you got there Bob. Should put a muscle on your bone." With that, he clasped his middle finger with his thumb and raised his hand to Robert's forehead, thumping the top of the smaller man's head so loudly the entire cafeteria stopped to look. A roar of laughter arose and Robert began trembling in fury, but just as Andrew had already seen several times this short morning, the boy turned and left the room without a word.

*****

Andrew felt his own anger swell in his heart, but said a silent prayer for help in remaining calm before he approached Derek Hansen. "Derek, can I talk to you for a minute?" The angel touched the athlete's arm and gently guided the boy over to the same corner where Andrew had witnessed the confrontation between the two students. Once they established themselves away from the other students, Derek felt a change take place. Suddenly, it was as if the cafeteria were emptied and he and this substitute teacher were alone in the large room. He could see the shapes of his classmates at their tables and could see that the were engaged in conversation, but there was a quiet that filled the room that he could neither understand nor explain.

Derek turned his attention from the disturbing scene around him back to Andrew. An angelic glow surrounded Andrew as he began to speak. "Derek, my name is Andrew. I am an angel." The young man's look of surprise was more boyish than his age should dictate as his eyes widened in disbelief. "It's true, Derek. I am an angel and I have been sent by God to help this school."

"Help this school do what?" Derek was slowly comprehending what he was seeing. Andrew ignored the question and continued with what he felt he had to say.

"I saw what happened between you and Robert. You hurt him. You don't realize it because to you, you're just having fun, but to him, it's more painful than you can possibly imagine. He doesn't say anything because he knows it will just make matters worse. He doesn't fight you because he knows he can't win. He doesn't accept it, Derek. He just tries to live with it."

Derek's expression fell as Andrew's words made themselves clear. "But, I was just kidding. He knows it." He looked at Andrew who did not respond. "Doesn't he?"

"Look, Derek. God loves you. He has given you a great many gifts. He has given you talents that have made you popular and well-liked in this school. You are a natural leader. They look up to you. God has given these things to you, not so you can torment your classmates, but so that you can set an example of love and kindness and truth. Look for the truth, Derek. Can Robert not be hurt by what just happened here?"

The young man struggled to remove himself from the responsibility of Andrew's words. He knew in his heart that the angel was right, but he was not ready to accept the truth that angels exist, let alone that they were appearing before him and chiding him for his behavior. "God doesn't care about such a stupid little thing like this. Why would He bother sending angels here when there are so many bigger things going on in the world where angels should be?"

"God sends angels to where they need to be, when they need to be there," Andrew carefully explained. "Today, there are angels here because God wishes for all of His children, including you and Robert, to be at peace."

Derek felt himself ease his resistance against the truth and began to feel a deep and genuine regret for his actions. Andrew knew this was the beginning of the change so desperately needed for Lincoln High School and for Robert Farley. "What can I do to make it go away?" the boy asked.

"You can't change the past," Andrew warned, "but you can change what you do in the future. "

"Yeah, well what am I supposed to do? These people expect me to be this way. What are they going to say if I just start being nice to this guy now?"

Andrew frowned. "What is God going to feel if you don't?"

Derek felt someone bump into him from behind and turned to see Melissa Porter struggling to keep from dropping her books. She was a plain girl, not someone Derek would normally bother noticing. "Are you okay, Melissa?" He grabbed a notebook as it broke loose from the pile in the girl's arms and turned his head to where Andrew had been standing, only to find that the angel was gone. He returned his attention to his classmate and helped her find a nearby table to lay down her load.

No one saw the dark figure of Mr. Daemon leave through the cafeteria doors.

*****

Monica touched her friend's arm softly. "Andrew. I have a message from the Father for you."

Andrew turned his attention to the angel standing beside him. He had left Derek and stood near the large doors leading from the cafeteria to the hall. He knew he and Monica were not visible to the students now and they could speak freely. Andrew could see by the look in his friend's eyes that the message was not one that he wanted to hear. "No, Monica. I can't..."

"Andrew," she interrupted, "He says you are not here to stop what is about to happen. And it will happen." She knew if she was to finish the message, she would have to speak quickly because the words were already beginning to choke away her voice. "The Father says that you are here as the Angel of Death and that the time has come. I am here to help you through it."

Andrew looked at Monica. Rarely was one angel ever assigned to another. Tears welled in his blue eyes as the horror of her statement made itself clear to him. "No, Father," he whispered. He looked down the empty halls knowing they would soon be filled with students changing classes, heading from lunch, going to their lockers. "I am getting through to them."

A tear rolled down Monica's cheek. "No, Andrew. It's too late."

It was then that he could whisper no more. "NO! Don't let this happen! Please don't let it happen. Not here! Not now!" He fell to his knees, hoping that the reverent gesture would change the inevitable. Monica knelt beside him, taking his hands into her own, her angelic tears silently caressing her cheek. Andrew's weeping overwhelmed her. Monica knew that Andrew had been an Angel of Death for a hundred and fifty years, yet never before had he been called upon to see so much tragedy among those so young. "Monica, he is only a child. Please let me stop this from happening."

"Oh, Andrew. It will happen," she repeated. "You were not sent to stop it. You were sent to bring them home."

Them.

Suddenly the realization hit him. The halls of Lincoln High School began to cast a golden light and Andrew could see that there was a multitude of Heavenly Host among them. Adam. Abram. Anthony. The truth fell upon him like a bolt of deadly lightning. Aaron. Arthur. He lifted himself from his knees and stared in disbelief as the halls filled with Angels of Death. "It is time," he heard Monica say.

*****

Derek pulled out a chair from the table on which he had laid Melissa's books and gestured for her take it. He sat down next to her and leaned forward as if conspiring to keep his words from being heard by the other students around them. "Melissa--that's your name, isn't it?--you're Robert Farley's friend, aren't you?"

"Well, no. Not really. Why?" Melissa was wary of the attention being shown to her by Derek Hanson, since she was always more comfortable fading into the shadows when the more popular students were around. She looked around to see if any of Derek's friends were nearby who might be posturing themselves for a practical joke of some kind. She was no stranger to the antics of Derek's crowd of friends and had no wish to become a target of their games. Derek barely noticed her discomfort, wanting urgently to retrieve the information that he was sure she could provide.

"I need to find him," he told the fair young girl. "Do you know what his next class is?" The lunch hour was winding down and Derek knew that any hope of talking to Robert before the next class would depend on locating him before the next bell rang. The athlete had no desire to wait until the end of the day before making amends for their earlier confrontation.

Melissa was suddenly furious with Derek and her protectiveness over the boy she would like to call a friend sliced through her shyness and gave her a voice she had never used before. "Even if I knew what his next class was, why should I tell you, Derek? So you can hunt him down and pounce on him with all of your little friends laughing? I think you are all cowards and terrible people. Why don't you just leave him alone?" She stood up with a jerk, sending her chair sliding across the floor. She felt her heart racing with adrenaline as she reached over to gather her books. Derek's athletic abilities gave him quick reflexes and he caught her arm to halt her hasty exit.

"No, wait Melissa," he pleaded. "It's not like that. Please listen to me." Something in Derek's tone of voice--or maybe in his eyes--told Melissa to give this boy the chance to speak. Although she refused his offer for another chair, she stood before him and waited for him to continue.

"Something happened to me, Melissa. I can't tell you what, and I can't tell you why I can't tell you, but you have to trust me when I say I won't hurt Robert. Ever again. I want to talk to him. To apologize. Please help me find him if you can. If not for me, for him."

Melissa sensed that Derek was telling her the truth. She carefully retrieved her pile of books and a small, shy smile crossed her lips. "All right, Derek. I'll help you. He's probably at his locker. We can try there. But you better not be lying." She began walking toward the cafeteria doors, unaware of the two figures in white standing there.

*****

Robert Farley stood in front of his locker, his body shaking with anger and shame. His legs felt so weak, he was sure he would collapse if he let go his grip from the open locker door. The deep breaths of air he forced into his lungs did nothing to relieve his anguish as he fought back the tears of frustration. If anyone saw him cry, it would destroy him completely. They would use it to torment him even further--a thought that brought him ever closer to the tears he fought so hard against. Robert closed his eyes and gripped the locker door so tightly the metal began to cut through his hand. He was determined to hide his sadness behind the wall of hate that allowed him to survive each day.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Farley. Is everything satisfactory?" The sudden sound of Mr. Daemon's voice did not startle the boy, even though Robert had not heard the man's approach. "You seem....down." Mr. Daemon was a master of understatement, and Robert often found himself confused by the Dean's ability to belittle a situation.

"I'm fine." Robert did not turn to look at the Dean, and wished wholeheartedly that Mr. Daemon would leave him alone. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Oh, I am quite sure you can handle it, Mr. Farley. You have everything you need to make your....problem....go away." A thin smile crossed his face. "Happy hunting, Mr. Farley. I'm sure I will be seeing you quite soon." As soundlessly as he had approached, the Dean of Students was gone.

*****

The screaming sound of the school's bell fell on Andrew's ears like a crow in the night, waking him from his wordless prayer. His eyes saw in a slow haze that classroom doors were opening and students were pouring into the halls, some heading for the cafeteria, others leaving it behind. Within moments, the corridor was a bustling mass of chatter and laughter as children soaked in the few minutes of freedom awarded them every 48 minutes. He knew that his presence would no longer be noticed by those who approached him. He was in the same cream suit as the other angels lining the hallway, and he felt the warmth of the Heavenly light enshrouding him. He folded his hands in front of him, looked at the beautiful vision in white standing beside him and sighed. He was needed and he would be strong. "God help me to be strong," he prayed.

On the other side of the hall, across from the cafeteria, stood the black figure of Robert Farley. He was still standing in front of his open locker and a faulty florescent light shed an unusually bright light behind him. The brilliance of the backlight gave him the appearance of a moving shadow. No details of him were clear as he turned to face the open cafeteria doors--not his clothing, his eyes, his hands--his gun. Andrew and Monica and the dozens of other angels lifted their eyes to Heaven and their arms to the children around them as Robert Farley turned and opened fire on the crowded halls of Lincoln High School.

*****

To the angels' horror, the scene unfolding before them seemed to slow to an almost motionless pace. Though it lasted only several minutes, time seemed to stand still as child after child fell to Robert Farley's rage. The halls went inexplicably dark, except for the glow of the heavenly host and the flash of the gun as it fired round after round into the screaming crowd. The sound of bullets hitting the metal lockers was deafening, masked only by the haunted cries of children as they fell for cover from The Demon's vengeance. It was impossible to know which students were falling to the ground to hide and which were actually hit by gunfire. The automatic weapon being used by the tortured young Robert Farley rifled off what seemed to be hundreds of rounds in mere seconds.

Angels hovered over the dead and the wounded, trying desperately to comfort the dying children of Lincoln High School. Andrew saw the young red-haired girl from Mr. Thornton's History class run past him through the open cafeteria doors. Derek was behind her and, hearing the first shots being fired, pulled her back inside the safety of the room, ordering her to get down. He turned and looked to where Andrew and Monica were standing and Andrew knew the boy could see them. "Do something!" he pleaded, just before a bullet found its target through the open doors and hurled the boy to the cold linoleum floor. In horror, Andrew started to go to the fallen child, but was held back by Monica's tender touch. "No Andrew. He will be tended to by another. You are to wait. You have an assignment."

Andrew looked at Monica in confusion and suddenly realized what she was saying to him. Robert Farley was his assignment. What could he possibly do for this boy now? This murderer who was destroying the lives of this community forever? "Monica, I don't understand...."

"You will. Please wait, Andrew."

The two angels stayed where they were and Monica looked up in time to see Tess disappear into the main office where just hours before, Monica had met Latasha Washington.

*****

"Look here, Baby," Tess shouted at the terrified secretary, "You have got to calm down. You have got to calm down! These children need help and you are the only one who can do that." Tess was now a glowing figure in white that comforted Latasha. Her screams slowed to whimpers of grief and fear as she imagined what was going on outside the relative safety of the office walls.

"Oh, God help us," she moaned. Her dazed eyes seemed to stare through the angel in her presence.

"He will, honey, but right now He needs you to help them!" Tess handed Latasha the telephone and urged her to call 911. The secretary suddenly knew the identity of her companion and raised her eyes to Heaven and found a strength that moments before she could not have imagined ever existed. Latasha grabbed the phone and made the call that would end the massacre at Lincoln High School.

*****

Monica remained quietly by Andrew's side throughout the ordeal, her presence insisting that he had not yet been called to fulfill the Father's Will.

Never before had Andrew felt such pain and grief. And helplessness. He usually found great joy in bringing home God's children. There was no joy here today. What purpose could the Father possibly have for Andrew if not to help these children return to the Kingdom of Heaven?

*****

When Robert saw Derek fall, it was as if he were suddenly awakened from some terrible trance. He stopped firing his weapon and stood in horror watching the blood pour from his enemy's wounds. His hand began shaking and his grip on the gun loosened. As much as he wanted to drop the weapon and run, he found he could not move his body and stood there, powerless.

"What have I done?" he muttered. "God help me! What have I done?"

"It is a little late for praying, isn't it, Robert?" Daemon was standing beside the boy, his voice and expression completely void of emotion. "It seems that God has abandoned you. If He cared at all about you or....them... He would be here, wouldn't he?" The word "them" was uttered with the same air of contempt that Robert had felt towards his classmates only moments earlier. The boy no longer felt the anger toward his classmates as his soul felt drained of any emotion other than grief. The Dean of Students moved closer to Robert, causing the student to take an involuntary step backward, making him fall back into his opened locker. "It's all right, Robert. You are almost done. But you must fulfill your bargain, must'nt you? Now, be a good boy and finish what you have started. You have one more bullet. And it will be done."

*****

The sirens seemed far away, but the angels filling the corridors of Lincoln High School knew the end of this tragedy was near. One frightened young man wielding a gun also knew the end was near. The gunfire suddenly ended with one final gunshot and all that was left were the sobs of the fearful, the injured and the dying.

Suddenly, Monica leaned over and kissed Andrew tenderly on the cheek. "Now you know what you must do. God loves you, Andrew." And with that, she disappeared. The Angel of Death began the long walk to the locker strangely numbered 666.

*****

Daemon stood over the fallen young man whose black garments now cast a crimson glow from the self-inflicted wound. To Andrew, the devil's smile never looked so evil.

"You see, Andrew," the being known by so many names began, "I am the greatest Angel of Death. I can not be beaten."

"You have not won here today, Lucifer. Not yet."

Andrew knelt down and touched Robert Farley. The boy opened his eyes and looked up at the angel whose glow brightened the entire corridor. "Robert, listen to me. It is not too late. You have a choice to make." Andrew remembered his failure with the assassin so many years before. He closed his eyes and pushed away the memory, knowing he was this boy's last hope at salvation. "God loves you, Robert. He knows what pain brought you to this and he wants to forgive you. But you must ask for it, Robert."

"You're an...angel." Robert's words were barely audible. The puddle surrounding him was growing and Andrew knew his time was running short. "I know... you are. I see it. Please..., take me.... with you?"

"I can't, Robert. Not yet. You must ask God for forgiveness first. He wants you to know what you have done and the terrible pain you have caused, but He wants you to know that you are His child and He loves you unconditionally. God can help this community heal, but your soul is yours alone and no one can save it but you. Will you give it to the evil standing here beside you, or will you give it back to your Father in Heaven?"

Andrew's words were met with only silence. Tears began to form again in his eyes as he felt the boy move further and further from the Father. The angel suddenly saw that this was indeed just a boy. A terrified, dying boy. Andrew took Robert's limp hand and held it tightly, closed his eyes and prayed on the young man's behalf. "Dear Father, please help this boy find his way back to you. He is afraid and I can not help him. Show him how merciful Your love is, if he will only ask for it."

Andrew felt Robert squeeze his hand and saw a single tear make its way down the boy's cheek. "Forgive... me." The words were enough. The Angel of Death drew the spirit of Robert Farley to him. As Robert's soul came forth, Daemon disappeared in a dark and angry cloud and the light surrounding Andrew grew even more brilliant. The darkness from the spirit of Robert Farley was gone forever as he prepared for his journey home.

*****

When Andrew finally returned to Monica and Tess, the empty halls of the school remained deathly quiet in the aftermath of the tragedy of Lincoln High. The three stood in the darkened corridor that was once so brightly lit by the heavenly host sent to bring so many of God's children home. Andrew lowered his eyes and Tess could see the sadness that still shadowed his heart.

"Come with me, Angel-Boy. I have something to show you." Tess laced her hand through Andrew's right arm and Monica followed, taking his left. He looked from one vision in white to the other, feeling great comfort in their touch. He trusted Tess to bring to him some peace, but the sight he beheld as they walked through the doors of the bloodied school and into the new day took his very breath away. Before the angels, on the steps of the vacant school, lay thousands of flowers, brought to the school in mournful memory of the victims of Lincoln High School. Among the flowers, Andrew could see teddy bears, school pennants, pom-poms, letters, signs and poems. Among the many photographs, Andrew saw a yearbook opened to the senior portrait of Robert Farley. As the angel approached, he saw that underneath the photo, someone had written the words, "We're sorry, Robert. Peace be with you."

Tess released her hand from Andrew's arm and moved between her two beloved angels, bringing their hands together in her own. "They will be back, Babies. The Father will fill these halls again with His angels to help these people heal. And they will heal, Angels. They will heal."

The three angels suddenly heard the soft cooing and looked up to see a single white dove fly towards the heavens.

Dedicated to the children of Columbine High School and to victims of school violence everywhere.