Dark Avenging Angel Read Free

foray into the school’s pool. I slipped, went under and panicked. I thrashed about, inhaling the chlorine-tainted water. It burned my throat and the inside of my nose. I couldn’t find the bottom. I tried to stand. Failed.
    I opened my mouth to scream, and the water poured in. I couldn’t breathe.
    Terror.
    I would drown. They would find me on the bottom.
    No one helped me. Couldn’t they see I was in trouble? Didn’t they care?
    Then, the relief when my feet made contact with the smooth tiled floor of the pool. I emerged, coughing and spluttering. Tears mingled with the stinging water. The teacher hadn’t even noticed. She just glared at me—for disturbing her class with my choking, I suppose.
    Bitch.
    My seven-year-old self tasted anger mixed with the chlorine.
    I had no confidence in her after that, and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible every Tuesday at nine thirty. While the rest of the class would giggle and horse around, learning the crawl and the breaststroke, I cowered in the shallow end with a polystyrene float and water wings. More fuel for the tormentors.
    Now, as I lay in bed that Monday night, I heard a sound. A sigh, like a breeze, ruffled my hair. I sat bolt upright.
    The shadows moved and I whimpered. I couldn’t see her, but it had to be her. A wave of calm spread over me, as if she were stroking my head. That time, she said nothing, just smoothed away my fears.
    I lay back down and slept.
    The third time was different. The third time I wasn’t the only one who saw her.

Chapter Two
    Christine and I weren’t speaking and she had rallied her on-again, off-again posse of six classmates who, she said, were in her “gang”. They cornered me on the playground.
    “We don’t like you. You’re ugly,” Christine said.
    “Yes, and you’re spoiled,” said Jennifer, a freckle-faced girl with flame-red hair and three older brothers. “‘Only’ children are always spoiled.”
    As always, I stared at them. Expressionless, I hoped. I tried to project myself into my safe place—a mental version of my corner where their words would just roll right over my head. But today I couldn’t get it to work.
    Then I saw my angel, out of the corner of my eye. I turned toward her and the other girls followed my gaze.
    Christine spoke first, “Who’s that?”
    “A friend of mine,” I said.
    The others mimicked me and laughed. I wanted to disappear. I wanted my angel to take me away from all of it.
    “You don’t have any friends. Nobody likes you,” Christine said, but I noticed she kept an eye on my angel, who seemed to glide closer.
    I said nothing. Could my angel sense my thoughts?
    Now she stood at my side and laid a hand on my shoulder.
    The expressions of all seven girls changed from sneering, taunting little bullies into frightened children. I smiled.
    “I knew you’d come and save me,” my mind said and I felt a warm glow, like a smile, passing through me.
    The children screamed. They turned tail and ran, screaming about black eyes and some unspecified monster.
    All except Christine. She couldn’t resist one last jibe at me. “Freak!”
    My angel’s hand slipped from my shoulder and I turned to see her raise her arms.
    Christine’s face turned from a flushed pink to bloodless white. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. For a second, she seemed to freeze. Then she was off, running as hard as she could over to the far side of the playground. There she joined her friends, and the group huddled together, comforting each other and casting swift glances in my direction.
    I stared at them for a minute, then turned back to my angel. But she’d vanished.
    Everyone left me alone after that, but I didn’t care. I would be leaving that school soon, anyway. I didn’t need stupid fair-weather friends like Christine.
    Christmas was always a bad time. There would inevitably be a row. My father hated Christmas. I never really knew why. He hadn’t had a bad childhood. His parents