Natural Born Angel (18 page)

“You won’t have that class for another couple of years, anyway. It’s very advanced,” Jacks said.

“Well, I still want to try, Jacks,” she responded, taking a gulp of her juice.

Jackson didn’t answer. He walked over and turned the TV on.

“. . . numbers for Senator Linden’s presidential bid continue to rise day by day. The increasing verbal threats from Angels have drawn more and more supporters to his camp. Self-described ‘former Angel addicts’ are flocking to the charismatic politician, who claims he will clean up the, quote, ‘Angel— ’”

The TV went black. Jacks had turned it off, shaking his head.

“I don’t know why you watch that station sometimes,” Jacks said.

“What, PBS? I like the shows with the lords and ladies and stuff,” Maddy said defensively.

The phone in Maddy’s bag buzzed. With one hand still sipping her orange juice, she pulled it out and checked it: a text from Darcy.

“Oh no,” she said.

“What?” Jacks asked.

“I totally forgot I have the
Teen Vogue
gala at the museum tonight,” Maddy said.

Jacks looked at her evenly. “I told you I wanted to do something.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that this came up and it seemed like a good thing to agree to. Why don’t you come with me?”

Walking to the window and looking out, Jackson let out a long breath. “I . . . I don’t know. I don’t know if I feel like it.”

“Why not?”

Jacks spun around. “I guess I didn’t realize that events had become so important to you.”

Maddy’s face burned. “It’s not the event that’s important, it’s just part of the process. It’s part of what I have to do to get the respect of all these people whose world I’m supposed to be joining. You told me this yourself, Jacks!” Maddy was frustrated, embarrassed and angry all at once. “You wanted this for me, Jackson. Becoming a Guardian. And now it’s almost here. Isn’t this what happens?”

Jacks bit his lip and turned back towards the window. Silence lingered between them. On the horizon, an ACPD helicopter criss-crossed the sky.

At last, Jacks spoke. Bitterness and hurt edged his sardonic voice. “I didn’t get invited.”

“What? Of course you’re invited,” Maddy said, walking closer to him. “I mean, are there even invitations?”

“Yes. Everything you go to. Darcy has them. They . . . didn’t invite me.”

Maddy stepped back and leaned against the counter.

“So go as my date.”

Jacks’s face darkened. “Do you understand, Maddy? They don’t
want
me there. And that’s not all. Even though Mark would never come out and say it, I can just tell that he is having to fight more and more for me, the way my wings aren’t recovering. It’s being held up as proof that Angels aren’t so amazing after all. Everything’s fuelling that crackpot Ted Linden’s presidential campaign and the Immortals Bill. I bet most of the Archangels would be happy if I just disappeared.”

“Jacks, don’t talk like that,” Maddy said, feeling miserable. “I won’t go. I’ll just stay here. We’ll do something else.” She approached Jacks and held his two hands in hers.

But he slowly shook his head. “No. You should go. Darcy will be pissed if you don’t.”

“I don’t care what Darcy thinks. And I don’t care what the Archangels think. Or what Senator Linden thinks. Or what
anybody
thinks, except you, Jacks.”

Jacks shook his head. “I’m sorry, Maddy. I’m sorry I brought up the other stuff. You should go; you need to go. I’m going to be mad now if you
don’t
go. This is all my own stuff I’m trying to deal with.”

“But— ”

“No
buts
,” Jacks said emphatically. “I want to look on ANN tonight and see footage of” – he put on a Tara Reeves voice – “‘gorgeous
Maddy Montgomery coming out to shine with the stars’
.” Jacks smiled and laughed a little.

Maddy looked at him. She felt upset and confused and didn’t know what the right answer was, or even if there
was
a right answer. Was Jacks being selfish? Was she being selfish? She felt exhausted all of a sudden. “Are you . . . are you sure?”

Jacks nodded, running his thumb along her cheek. “I’ve been meaning to spend some time with my mom, anyway, and I know she’s home tonight. Not a big deal.” Jacks smiled more, swallowing his disappointment ever deeper.

That night at the event – an Angel-studded gala on the rooftop of the Angel City Art Museum – Maddy was the centre of attention, wearing a spectacular Alexander McQueen dress she and her stylist had been planning on. She smiled and took pictures along the red carpet and did brief interviews with ANN and A!, which had correspondents waiting to pounce on the hottest Angels.

The autumn air was starting to crackle with energy as the biggest event of the year was just a month or so away: Commissioning Week. Emily and Mitch were both going to be Commissioned, and Maddy was hoping that for at least a week or so, the spotlight wouldn’t glare so brightly on her. She couldn’t even imagine how nervous she was going to be in a couple of years when her own Guardian assessment was going to take place. So much attention was already on her.

She glanced around the event: anyone who was anyone in the Angel world was there, but Maddy had the strange feeling they were all looking at
her
. She kept up appearances, trying not to stumble in her Louboutin heels, which she was slowly but surely mastering, but she had a bad feeling. She walked over to the edge of the roof, where there weren’t so many people, and pulled out her iPhone. She saw she had a text from Gwen: “
Look at this . . .
L,” with a link to a blog posting with pictures already up from the
Teen Vogue
red carpet just thirty minutes ago.

“
Maddy One Step Behind!
” the headline read.

It showed pictures of Maddy arriving at the red carpet that night in her McQueen dress. And then it showed pictures of Emily
the night before
wearing the same exact designer dress.

Emily had already tweeted – from the other side of the party: “
Don’t you hate girls who are just copiers? Get your own style!
”

The Aussie Angel had somehow found out that Maddy was planning on wearing the McQueen dress to the
Teen Vogue
event and wore it just to make her look bad!

Looking back over her shoulder into the main bustle of the party on the rooftop, she saw Emily’s friend Zoe with another group of young Angels, all rolling their eyes and laughing at Maddy. Maddy’s cheeks burned. She felt like a bug on a pin. She had been walking around the party, not knowing that everybody thought she was just copying Emily.

Sighing, she looked out on to the dark hills and the Angel City sign, which was barely visible in the distance. The gala glittered behind her. She thought about Jacks, whose pride wouldn’t let him come with her tonight. Because no matter how bad she felt for Jacks, she realized that’s what it was: his pride.

As Jacks was on her mind, a disconcerting thought suddenly arose in her head, very clearly.

How long can this go on?

T
he next morning, Maddy looked out of the window of the helicopter at the auburn desert flats below her and couldn’t help but smile to herself at the irony: they were using the chopper to fly her out to the desert, so that then she could practise flying. Angel efficiency at its best. The roar of the blades overhead was dulled by the headset she wore.

“Almost there,” the voice crackled over the radio in her ear. Below her, the seemingly never-ending development of Angel City had butted up against mountains and then finally given way to vast tan, parched desert that stretched now as far as she could see. It was incredible to her. She’d driven through with Uncle Kevin once when they’d visited some relatives in Nevada, but being above it gave her a sense of the scale of the whole thing.

The Angels had top-secret proving grounds out here near the military bombing ranges, but not even the military were allowed to trespass on the Angel training grounds here in the desert. Maddy soon saw a gleaming silver structure in the distance, just inside what looked like tall cyclone fencing.

“Dropping the bird down,” the pilot said, landing them on the helipad next to the building. Sand and dirt swirled around angrily as the helicopter touched down. Maddy pulled her hood close around her and jumped out of the chopper into the churning grit, following her flight instructor, former ADC Agent Trueway. It was time for Maddy’s more advanced speed training.

She might be able to get by without knowing time manipulation – there were some Angels who weren’t too great at it – but there was no way she’d make it to Guardian without getting the hang of flying. It was crunch time, and Maddy knew it.

Maddy and Trueway were met by a tall, muscular Angel in ADC uniform – when not prepping Guardians, the agents performed their advanced tactical and flying training out here in the desert. Junior ADC agents stood guard at the building. Maddy felt a slight shudder run down her spine as she saw the black uniform but tried to chase it from her mind. She noticed the entire grounds were surrounded by six-metre-tall electrified cyclone fence.

They were led into a black truck, which drove a short distance down a gravel road until it reached a paved clearing. In the centre of the paved clearing was a metal pylon, which reached about six metres into the sky. More pylons continued as far as Maddy could see, each about a football field’s distance apart. Far off, it seemed as if they started zigzagging a bit.

“Ready?” Trueway said to Maddy as they reached the paved clearing. Maddy looked at him and nodded. She slipped off her hoodie so that she was wearing only her flying training gear – a nylon-and-cotton form-fitting uniform that had openings for wings. It wasn’t too weird, but it made Maddy, who had never been particularly athletic, feel self-conscious. She stepped out of the truck and looked into the distance at the pylons.

“Maddy, now normally when we bring Guardian nominees here, it’s just to hone their already God-given instinct as an Angel to fly. We train for more speed, smooth over some rough patches. Essentially help them become the best flyers they possibly can be.” He scrutinized Maddy through his sunglasses. “Now, with you it’s a little . . . different.”

Maddy’s cheeks flushed as she recalled her repeated embarrassments during agility training, her inability to master the basic techniques necessary to fly gracefully and smoothly. All the while, other Guardian nominees had basically come out of the womb knowing how to fly properly. It was like learning how to walk while all the other students were world-class runners.

“My goal with you is to get you to a basic aptitude and hope that nature takes its course from there, assisted by continued supplemental training. OK?”

She nodded, although that was not what she wanted to hear. Maddy wanted to hear that she was going to learn to fly like a Guardian. Today. Not tomorrow. Now. She was tired of feeling different from the rest. Even her lessons from Tom hadn’t seemed to be making too much of a difference, although they hadn’t reached the stage where she flew the plane yet.

It wasn’t even her fault that she couldn’t fly as well as other Angels, and it wasn’t fair to get shown up by someone like Emily, who’d had every advantage that being an Angel could bring throughout her life. Maddy was just a nobody; she knew nothing.

Trueway pointed at the line of metal poles that extended into the distance. “Each pylon represents a station along the way for the time trial. You have to fly within three metres of each one for it to register. Breaking each leg down, we’re able analyze an Angel’s performance and see what sections can be improved upon.” Her instructor handed her a small earpiece to put in. “I can communicate with you through this. Normally we’d start working for speed, but since you’re, uh, new to this, we’d better just begin with having you run the course. Any questions?”

She shook her head.

Maddy’s instructor held up a device a little bigger than a phone. “We monitor your progress and times here.”

“OK.”

“Whenever you’re ready, start on the mark.” Trueway pointed to a perfect red circle painted on the smooth concrete. “The clock will automatically begin as soon as you lift off.” Maddy stepped on to the mark.

A wind blew across the desert flats, shaking the dry scrub. The sun glared over the whole scene as Maddy prepared herself. She could do this. She could. She tried so hard to concentrate, thinking about everything she would do. What had Jacks told her?
Just fly?
That was easy for him to say – he was born with the ability.

“Remember, poised on the balls of your feet,” Trueway said.

Maddy leaned slightly forward, lightly.

WHOOSH.

Her wings suddenly extended from behind her back, sliding noiselessly through the specially designed slits in the back of her training gear. Maddy groaned in pain, dropping to a knee. It was getting better, but it still was incredibly painful each time she spread her wings. Another difference between her and full Angels.

The other Angel with their group moved forward to help her, but Trueway put his hand in front of him as if to say it was OK.

Maddy pulled herself up, dusting off her knee, and leaned forward, poised on the balls of her feet again.

“Good, good,” Trueway said. “Now launch.”

Leaning forward, one, two enormous flaps and she jumped up. The wings suddenly propelled her forward and Maddy was flying off the mark, her trainers lifting from the asphalt. The muscles in her back burned with effort. She raised herself up six metres with four powerful thrusts and then set her wings, trying to gain speed. The desert ground sped beneath her. Her breath came sharp and ragged. She was wobbly as she attempted to jet straight towards the first pylon in the distance. Maddy tried to remember flying with Jacks.

“Come on,” she said under her breath. Still struggling to maintain a straight course, Maddy flew by the first pylon, which had two lights on it. It turned green, signifying she’d passed within three metres of it.

A little confidence growing, Maddy set her sights on the next one, getting slightly faster. She was still struggling to maintain a straight course, however. She concentrated as hard as she could, but it still felt somewhat unnatural. Passing the second pylon, it turned green, and Maddy found the pylons beginning to zig and zag slightly, like slalom gates, across the desert landscape.

Setting her teeth, Maddy neared the third pylon, her wings flapping desperately as she tried to make the hard right turn towards the next marker. She overshot the mark and awkwardly had to circle around to get to the fourth pylon. The light turned green, but Maddy was pretty sure she was breaking some kind of record for slowest flight ever. With determination, she exerted as much energy as she could to gain speed towards the fifth marker.

The pylon grew closer and Maddy suddenly wobbled, mid-air, and flew wide of the mark, off to the left. She looked back at the pylon: the red light came on. She had failed.

“Bring it on back. We’ll try it again,” Trueway’s voice said over the earpiece.

Maddy circled around back to home base, trying to figure out in her mind where she had gone wrong. Trueway watched her approach through a large pair of field glasses. Landing, she drank some water and collected herself, making sure her ponytail was tied tightly.

“Ready again?” her instructor asked, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

She nodded, stepping on to the mark again.

“This time try to . . . flow with it a bit more. Drop your starboard wing and lean in to bring you around that pylon.”

Maddy nodded that she understood – and she did understand, physics-wise, how that would work – but she wasn’t sure she
felt
it. Maybe this time she could. She set her jaw and leaned forward on the balls of her feet.

“Anytime you’re— ”

Before Trueway had finished his sentence, Maddy was off. She looked down at the desert scrub as it zoomed underneath her; she was actually gaining some speed this time. She smiled as she got to the first pylon, passing it quickly, and then on to the second. Both lights turned green. Maddy got to the third pylon, but this time she didn’t overshoot it, and was able to turn quickly and start gaining speed for the fourth. Passing it as well, she made a sharp turn towards the fifth, which she’d missed last time.

She smiled. She was starting to get the hang of it. Bearing down, she started gaining as much speed as she could. Beads of sweat broke on her forehead, her ponytail whipping behind her as she neared the fifth marker. Almost there. . . The metal of the pylon glinted in the direct sun as she zoomed towards it.

She thought of what he had said:
Now drop starboard wing, lean in.

Suddenly Maddy began rolling in mid-air, her wing dropping too much as she flew directly towards the metal globe atop the pylon. Red-hot pain shot through her body as her right wing caught the side of the pylon, which jerked her violently into a spin.

Tumbling in thin air in a dizzying freefall, Maddy screamed as the desert floor rushed to meet her.

She landed hard with a crunch on the dry bushes of the desert ground. The wind was knocked out of her, leaving her stomach hollow and her chest in pain.

“Maddy! Are you all right?” Trueway spoke on the earpiece.

Maddy sat up, miserably dusting herself off next to a cactus. She looked at the pylon above her. It didn’t even seem to recognize her presence, even though it had brought her low.

“I’m OK,” she croaked, barely able to speak, still trying to get her breath back.

“Maybe we should try some easier exercises,” the voice crackled in her ear. “We’ll send the truck to get you.”

“Sure,” Maddy said, defeated.

Maddy was silent on the helicopter ride back to Angel City that afternoon, dirty and dusty from the humiliating day at the proving grounds. She didn’t even know where to begin. Instructor Trueway insisted she was making progress, but she still felt like some toddler learning how to walk.

The only thing she knew was that she had to figure it out, and sooner rather than later, if she was going to be a Guardian.

She checked her phone when she got back to Angel City and saw that Jacks hadn’t texted her back from the morning. That was unusual for him, although she knew he had a long day of doctor’s appointments. Kevin had called and left a voicemail – very Kevin, no texts for him – probably asking when she was going to come over for dinner.

After showering off the desert grit, Maddy tenderly sat down on her couch, sore all over from the fiasco of the day’s flying training. She grabbed her laptop off the couch and flipped it open, massaging her aching neck with her free hand. Her browser was still open from last night, when she’d been perusing Johnny Vuitton’s Angel blog and reading the public’s comments on the dress debacle.

Maddy’s mouth literally dropped open. And stayed there.

An outside observer would have thought Maddy had somehow been frozen in place, a peaceful statue. Far from being calm, adrenaline coursed through her veins and her blood screamed in her ears. She was so shocked she simply couldn’t move.

The blog headline read:

“MADDY DOING SO WELL IN TRAINING SHE’S GETTING COMMISSIONED THIS YEAR! BOMBSHELL ANNOUNCEMENT FOR AMERICA’S SWEETHEART!”

Breaking out of her spell, Maddy rushed to open another blog. And then three more. And then the ANN homepage. They all had the same story.

Maddy’s phone began ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

Within twenty minutes, Maddy was at the Godspeed house. She was glad to see Mark’s Porsche in the driveway. She let herself in the door.

Coverage of her early Commissioning was blaring on the TV. Mark, his tie slightly undone and his jacket thrown over the back couch, stood there watching the events play out on ANN. A strange look hovered on his face as he turned to Maddy.

“Jacks isn’t here, Madison. Were you supposed to meet here? Did you try his house?” He motioned to the TV. “I’m assuming you’ve heard about your historic Commissioning?”

“I’m here to talk to you, Mark.
What
is going on?”