A 'Touched by an Angel' Story

By: Yvette Jessen

© 2001 not intended to infringe on any previously held copyrights.

The large gray building of the high school could be seen from the highway, as the hot September sun poured down onto the asphalt parking lot directly in front of the band hall. The marching practice had just ended for the day and 14-year-old Craig Peters emerged from the building, his melancholy blue eyes scanning the parking lot. It was not like he was really looking for anything specific, he was just tired. He sighed deeply as the sunshine encased him and he looked down at the ground, the perspiration streaming down both sides of his face.

In the distance, three angels stood by and were watching the young boy as he picked up his black trumpet case with one hand and the backpack full of books with the other.

"He looks unhappy," the pretty auburn headed angel commented looking at her supervisor, an older angel with mahogany colored skin and compassionate brown eyes.

"That's an understatement of the year, Miss Wings," Tess said and she sighed deeply. "His name is Craig Peters and unfortunately, he's about as coordinated with marching and playing the trumpet as Phil is at finding his way in human form."

"That's not saying much, Tess," Andrew said remembering the last time he had to drive and pick Phil up miles away from the intended assignment because he had lost his way.

"Well, Craig has a really difficult time in this marching band, the thing is, and this is no state secret, he hates it. He completely feels pressured into it by his family, and the fact that his older sister, Trisha, is the drum major here," she paused and took a deep breath. "Right now, he would prefer to spend his free time somewhere else. The only trouble is that he doesn't really know where it is he would rather be. That boy has been walking around in the shadows for so long, no one has bothered to show him the sun. That's why we're here, he's going to have to see the sun, and no matter how difficult it's going to be, he's going to discover that he has a compass inside of him, and that's directing to the path God intended. As of right now, he's just lost and wandering aimlessly."

The three angels continued to watch as Craig started to walk towards the parking lot where the late busses were parked. As he was walking, a voice resonated across the parking lot, and after looking around; he could see an older boy was now coming across the parking lot as he was addressing Craig.

"Hey, dork," Craig stopped walking. "Yeah, geek-o, I'm talking to you!"

Craig turned around and could see that his sister's boyfriend, Brad Summer was coming towards him, his voice resonating through the area causing Craig to self-consciously look away. It was no secret, Brad was always picking on him, and why would this day be any different than all the others?

Craig really hated Brad, he hated the way the boy treated him as well as the other kids in the Cadet Band, but he also hated being a freshman at this school. That alone was bad enough, but also to be incredibly shy, insecure, as well as having an older sister who was not only a senior, but also one of the most popular kids made him wish that he could sink into the background and stay there permanently.

"What do you want, Brad?" Craig asked all the while trying to gun up the courage for a possible confrontation with the older boy.

"I was just wondering if you were ever going to learn to march," the older boy said. "Your crappy marching makes the entire band look bad, you wimp, and if we look bad, then I'll have to hurt you."

Craig nodded and looked at the senior boy who stood before him. Just the mere size of Brad made the boy intimidating and Craig was fully aware that he would definitely mash him into a pulp if he didn't get in step by the time the marching competition would come around.

"Let's face it, wimp, you march like a bull in a china closet," Brad said and put his hands on his hips. "You've got three weeks to improve, or else."

Craig attempted without any success at swallowing the ever-present lump that had lodged itself in the back recesses of his throat. He kept hoping when he had joined the high school's marching band, that he'd conveniently got a 'D' in that history class so he could be bumped with the 'no pass, no play' rule, but that didn't happen, he managed to squeak by with a 'C' for the grading period.

If only his father wouldn't rake him over the coals, he would have conveniently bombed another class, and then he would be safe, but at this point, he was more afraid of his dad than he was of getting meshed into a pulp on the football field by his older sister's boyfriend.

Playing the trumpet was bad enough, but now he had to try and coordinate his feet with memorizing the music and he was doubtful if he would ever get it. The band director had already made him an alternate, which meant that he would have to share a spot with another kid and they would alternate each week at the games, but the 'no pass, no play' rule that he had hoped would save his neck, was now a two-edged sword and on this very day, he was given another spot on the marching program and now he knew that he would have to go through with the program, after all.

Sighing sadly he looked at Brad. "Why don't you go and get Trisha and leave me alone?" As he turned to go, Brad pushed his head with the palm of his hand causing him to lurch forward.

Instead of saying anything further, Craig walked away from the older boy, his eyes filled with sadness. I hate my life, he thought to himself as he walked. The people who said that this was the greatest time in one's life were obviously never bullied by their older sister's stupid boyfriend, he thought bitterly as he looked around.

"It's too bad praying is no longer allowed in schools," he muttered under his breath, "because I could really use some divine help." Craig pushed his glasses up on his nose and walked towards the parking lot where the late busses were parked and waiting for the students to get on board.

By this time, the angels were no longer observing the youth, instead, they each had places to be, and now was the time for them to start surrounding their young assignment.

*****

Once he climbed on board the bus he thought would take him home, he could see that a new driver was now seated at the wheel.

"Is this the right bus?" Craig asked. "Does it go to Randolph Street?"

"That it does, baby," the friendly woman answered.

"Where's the usual driver?" Craig asked.

"Mr. Henderson had to go into the hospital for a hernia operation, so he won't be back for awhile, so I'll be his stand-in," she said. "My name's Tess, by the way."

"Craig," he said and sat down in the seat directly behind her.

"What did you stay late for?" Tess asked trying to make small talk with the young boy.

"Band rehearsal," Craig said softly, but it was obvious that he had the same energy as a balloon that had been punctured with a needle.

"I see, yes I suppose the band practices every day after school so it looks as though I will be seeing you quite a bit then, doesn't it?" Tess asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," Craig said.

"Are you OK, honey, you don't look at all happy about things? Is there something you would like to talk about?" Tess asked.

"No, not really, I've just had a bad day," Craig said, but didn't add that everyday was a bad day when he had to go to an elective class that he didn't elect to taking, but rather that was forced on him.

"You know, I may be assigned to take the band to the football games now, which bus are you on?" Tess asked trying to get the young boy to actually talk to her about what was going on and how he was feeling about the whole situation he was faced with.

"I'm on number 4," he said simply.

"I'll keep that in mind then, maybe I can get assigned to driving that bus," Tess said as some more of the kids got on the bus. They too began to ask her if they were on the right bus, to which she affirmed that they were.

Craig's attention diverted back to the textbook he had with him. He opened it as Tess started the loud motor of the bus, and as he began to read as the bus rolled out of the school parking lot. One they were out on the street, he tossed the book aside and began to stare despondently out the window.

Tess noticing this, said nothing, but she began to send silent prayers out for the young boy.

*****

The following afternoon, Craig walked into history area for his class and sat down next to his friend, Anthony. The other boy had his head down and Craig was left to conclude that Anthony was affixing new stamps to his notebook again.

He liked Anthony a lot, and this was one of the few boys who walked proudly and always said. "Yes, I'm a geek, but I'm proud of the way God made me." Craig often wondered about that religious stuff that Anthony often talked about, but he never really had the courage to ask his friend about it.

"Hey Tony, what's up?"

"Oh Craig, check this out. I got it last night from my uncle, you know he's in Zimbabwe on some kind of animal restoration thing and he sent me some great stamps with elephants and rhinos on them. Never been used, no postmark at all," Anthony said enthusiastically. "I never thought I'd hear from him, my dad said that he was really busy and didn't have time to collect postage stamps for me, but I reminded him that Uncle John had promised."

"That's cool," Craig said, but his voice emerged unenthusiastic.

"Hey, what's wrong? Is 'Mr. Congeniality' giving you a hard time again?" Anthony asked.

"Nothing new there, Brad has the brain of an insect, but the body of a dinosaur," Craig said softly. "His exact words yesterday after another nightmarish band rehearsal were 'your marching better improve in three weeks, wimp, or else'." He shook his head. "Tony, I wish I had a stand-in for this, 'cause I know I will never get this marching and playing business down. You know I tried really hard to bomb that last test so I could conveniently get thrown out for six weeks, but it didn't work, and even if it did, my dad would have killed me."

"Maybe you can get it to work in your favor, I heard we have a new substitute teacher," Anthony said smiling.

"I don't have a problem with Mrs. Friedrich, I just wish I knew what to do about all this, my parents expect me to do this marching band thing, but it's not what I want to do."

"What do you want to do?" Anthony asked.

"I have no idea."

"Well, maybe you should try some different stuff and see what works for you," Anthony offered. "I mean, my church has groups forming all the time, but if that doesn't ring a bell for you, then maybe you should try checking at the community center, I heard they started a new program for teenagers there, maybe there's something for you."

"Yeah right, but when? I mean; you know that my life is centered on band and school. You know what happened the last time I tried to do something outside of school, my parents flipped a gasket and told me that it would interfere with band rehearsals."

"What did you want to do?"

"Well, there's a group of kids here that wanted to volunteer at the nursing home. It's nothing major; they go and read stories and just talk to the elderly. I mean, I like to hear about historical things, but not from reading a book, but from like talking to people," Craig said. "When I suggested this to my parents they told me that maybe I could do this after marching season ends. But, I keep thinking if I live through marching season. I hate my life! Maybe Brad is right, maybe I am a wimp."

Within seconds the bell rang and Craig had no choice but to turn back around as a pretty auburn headed woman entered the room, closed the door behind her, walked over to her desk, and took a seat at the front of the room.

"Hello, class," she said, her voice emerging with a beautiful Irish lilt. "My name is Monica, I'm going to be your substitute teacher for a few weeks while Mrs. Friedrich is out on maternity leave."

"The hospital must be full up," Craig whispered to Anthony, "the late bus driver is out getting a hernia operation."

Anthony covered his mouth with his hand to keep the laughter from emerging. As soon as he stopped snickering, he removed his hand from in front of his mouth and continued to listen to Monica as she was speaking.

"Now then," she was saying. "I won't have you call me Miss 'anything', but I still want you to respect me. You respect me, and I'll do the same to you. OK?" She looked around the room and could see that the kids seemed to be in agreement with this. "Fine, then I am going to try to learn all your names, though I must admit in a school this size it will be hard, though not impossible. The other thing, I have heard all the things young people do to initiate a substitute teacher, and I would like to suggest that you not try any of these things, I may sound like a pushover, but I am anything but."

As soon as she stopped speaking, she scanned the faces in the room and offered the kids a smile. "Can someone tell me where you left off?"

"It was the American Revolution," Anthony offered and when Craig looked at his friend he could tell that the other boy was somewhat smitten with the new teacher.

Oh yuck, he thought to himself as he opened his history textbook and stared down at the writing as Monica began the lesson.

*****

Forty minutes later, the bell sounded dismissing the students and Craig sighed deeply as he looked up as soon as he heard a voice addressing him. "Is something wrong? Everyone has already left."

"No, I'm fine," he said and looked up at the teacher. "I guess I wish I could stay in History class for two periods."

"You like History?"

"Not really, I prefer to hear it from people who actually lived through it, not through reading a book, besides, I'm probably much better at it than I am with muddling through marching band," the boy muttered.

"You play in the band?" Monica asked.

"Unfortunately," he said weakly as he grabbed his books and stood up.

"Wait, you didn't tell me your name," she said smiling warmly at him.

"It's Craig," he offered weakly. "Anyway, I guess I'd better get going or I'll be tardy, and the last thing I need is more trouble. See you tomorrow, Monica."

"Bye, Craig," Monica replied in kind as the boy left the room.

As soon as he was gone she took a deep breath and began to gather her books together. "How's it going, Miss Wings?"

"He's very reserved, Tess," Monica answered. "He doesn't speak much about himself at all, does he?"

"No, he talks a lot to his friend, but unfortunately, Anthony is probably the last person who would be able to help him," Tess replied. "But you know, he was that way yesterday on the bus too. Let's just hope Andrew is more successful at getting that baby to talk about things than we have been," Tess said.

"Where is Andrew, anyway?" Monica finally asked after a few moments of silence passed between them.

"Well, let's just say that he's right at the root of the problem," Tess replied. "He's taken the position as assistant band director and he will be conducting the Cadet Band, the same class that Craig is in. I guess the Father thinks that this boy needs a few allies on the inside, since he doesn't seem to feel that he has any."

"Andrew conducting a band?" Monica looked at Tess with raised eyebrows.

"Don't forget Miss Wings, the Father gives us what we need when we need it," Tess said. "You know, I never thought I would get used to driving something bigger than my beautiful red baby."

Monica giggled, "Oh come on Tess, it's not that bad."

"In this heat? I mean, we're hardly in an agreeable climate here, it's hot, and there's no air conditioning," Tess said.

"I suppose inviting you to have a cup of coffee would be out of the question then, right Tess?" Monica asked.

"Just keep your attention focused on your assignment, Angel Girl and leave the coffee alone for awhile. Now tell me, what did you accomplish in class?" Tess asked. "Did you notice if Craig has any special interests?"

"No, but his friend Anthony is really involved in stamp collecting. It seems like every kid around here has something that they like, but Craig just wanders. It's really much worse than you said yesterday. I thought you were kidding me."

"Does this look like the face of a kidder, Miss Wings?" Tess snapped.

"No, I just thought that you had exaggerated a wee bit," Monica said honestly.

"Don't worry, baby, we've just started. I know that it is probably going to take some time for us to get through the many layers surrounding Craig. The boy is looking for truth, he's trying to find out where he belongs, and at that age, it's not easy. He wants to make his parents happy, but he's making himself miserable. I think we will reach him, and maybe that's why the Father wanted us to stay here for awhile," Tess said.

*****

Craig walked into the band hall right as the bell sounded. He released a pent up sigh of relief as he quickly took his place with the other trumpet players and pulled his shiny golden instrument from its case.

"Hello everyone," an unfamiliar voice emerged through the room and he looked up to see a strange man with shoulder length blonde hair and green eyes standing on the podium. "My name is Andrew, and I'm going to be your director until the end of marching season."

"Torture season, you mean," one of the girls in the flute section muttered, and although she hoped he hadn't heard her words, she flushed when he looked directly at her and offered her a sympathetic smile.

"Come on guys, its not that bad," Andrew said, all the while scanning the group of students and looking for his assignment. When his eyes fell on the group of boys who played the trumpet, he could see that Craig was sitting there quietly, his misery filled eyes speaking much louder than the complaints of his peers ever could.

"It's not that bad if you have coordination and aren't a fish," one of the saxophone players grumbled suddenly diverting Andrew's attention to the students seated on the other side of the room.

"Yeah," one of other flutists said. "You don't have people like Brad Summer treating you like you’re the last piece of dirt because his crummy girlfriend is drum major."

"Hey just leave Trisha out of this, she's not at fault," Craig stood up and looked at her angrily.

"No, she's just got you running scared," one of the other trumpet players, said. "Admit it Craig, you only defend her because she's your stupid sister, but behind your back she doesn't defend you, in fact she's the one who started the 'TP' jokes back in summer band."

Craig's face flushed and he looked down at his lap as Andrew looked at the boy two seats down from where he was seated.

"TP?" Andrew looked questionably at the other kids.

"'Tricia's Pest' is what they call him," one of the flutists said, "but everyone thinks it means something else."

Craig looked up. "Thanks, now you not only have insulted my sister, but you also humiliated me right in front of the new guy."

"Craig, it's OK, I'm sure she didn't mean any harm by it," Andrew offered, but he could see the frustration in the boy's face.

"Yeah, sure, you're the grown-up, and you can look out at us and say everything is wonderful, but half of us don't even like band, we stink when it comes to marching and then people like Brad come along and threaten us if we can't march. Just yesterday, he threatened to mesh me into a pulp if I don't get the marching down in three weeks. Sure life is just fantastic. I have only been trying to learn to do this junk for the past seven weeks and still haven't gotten it," he said sarcastically.

Andrew looked at the teenager as he stood up and began packing his belongings. "What are you doing?"

"Aren't you going to make me leave?"

"No, I don't make people leave for speaking their minds, but if you want to talk about this after class, maybe we can put a stop to Brad's harassing all of you," Andrew said, but when he looked out among the members of the band, he could only see disbelief prevalent in their eyes. "Look guys, this is my first time conducting a band, I'm as new to this as a lot of you are to marching, but don't give up, if you do then people like Brad will win, and whether you know it or not, you guys are winners, all of you, and whatever happens, we will get through this, OK? After all, we're all on the same team, right?"

The kids began to whisper amongst themselves, and finally some of the kids nodded, and others muttered 'OK' or 'right' under their breaths.

Instead of saying anything further, Andrew smiled encouragingly at them and started the rehearsal.

*****

At the end of the afternoon marching rehearsal, Craig sighed deeply as he walked towards the band hall to collect his belongings. "Hey Craig, you got a minute?"

He turned around and could see that Andrew was now coming across the parking lot towards him. "Yeah, but I have to get to the bus before it leaves."

"It won't take long," Andrew said.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened in class today. I didn't mean to disrupt anything, I guess I just snapped," Craig said softly. "It's nothing personal."

"I know, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to find out if everything was OK with you or if there was anything I could do to help you out," Andrew said gently. "I really want to be your friend, Craig."

"Yeah, a teacher who wants to be my friend, that's all I need to get Brad to give me an even harder time then he already does," Craig said softly.

Andrew looked at the boy, "listen, maybe that sounds weird to you, but where I come from, friendship goes beyond status or age, it just is. Let me ask you something, if you hate band, and don't like the rehearsals, why are you here? Why do you subject yourself to something you don't like?"

Craig looked at the angel and he could see the concern there as well as compassion and understanding. Finally, he pointed across the parking lot. "You see that girl over there?"

"Yes, the drum major, what about her?"

"Her name's Trisha, she's my sister," he took a deep breath as Trisha started to walk over in their direction.

"I don't understand, why do you feel you have to be here because of her?"

"It's more than that, my parents they love this band, and they want us both to go through four years of being members of it." Craig looked at Andrew, but before the angel could respond, Trisha had reached them and she offered them a weak smile.

"Hey squirt," she said, her eyes lighting up when she saw her younger brother. "I just wanted to tell you that you did really good today."

"I did?" Craig asked.

"Listen, I know this is hard for you, and I know that Mom and Dad are really pressuring you a lot about this," Trisha began and she looked at Andrew. "Our parents were in the band here, and I guess they like to keep the traditions of the family going. They met each other the year my father was the head drum major."

"Now you are?" Andrew said and smiled at her.

"Yeah," Trisha said. "Anyway, don't sweat it, little brother, I think you're doing just

fine with this. Listen, I was a pretty uncoordinated when I was a freshman too, but I think everyone is at one time or another."

"You going to ride the bus home?" Craig asked.

"No, I'm going with Brad, that's why I wanted to ask you to let Mom and Dad know that I'd be coming late," Trisha said softly. "I'll see you later at the house."

Craig nodded and watched as his sister walked away. As she did, a strange tremor cursed through his body and he tried without any success to shake it off.

"Hey, what is it?" Andrew asked as he noticed the boy had a strange look in his eyes.

"I-I don't know, I just have this really weird feeling," Craig said softly, but he quickly dismissed it shaking his head. "I guess it's nothing."

"Listen, why don't I give you a ride home and we can talk some more?" Andrew suggested. "I think you're going through something really intense, and maybe it would help to have someone to talk to about it."

Craig thought about his words and after a few minutes he nodded. "I guess it would," he said not adding that he had no desire to sit for 30 minutes on a hot bus with no air conditioning.

Andrew smiled. "Great, then let me go inside and take care of some stuff and then I'll meet you back here in say, five minutes?"

"OK, I have to get my stuff anyway," Craig said and he followed Andrew into the band hall.

"Hey, wimp!" Brad came over to him once he came into the large hall and Andrew disappeared inside one of the offices. "You been talking to the newbie about me?"

"No, I haven't," Craig looked into the eyes of the older boy, and for some reason, he was suddenly afraid of Brad. Something about the boy did not seem right; he looked as though he was strung out on something.

"You know what happens to wimpy fish who go around telling the grown-ups about our little agreements," Brad said, his hand reaching out and gripping Craig's shoulder all the while his fingernails were digging through the T-shirt the younger boy wore, and when the freshman boy looked up he could see that Brad's eyes were practically bulging.

"I didn't, Brad, I didn't say anything," Craig objected as the tears stung his eyes as Brad began to shake him around as though he was a rag doll. Seconds later, Andrew came out of the office and saw that his assignment was being roughed up pretty badly. Without even contemplating anything, he ran over to them and could see the fright that dwelled in the eyes of the younger boy. As he came closer, his voice split the silence of the band hall.

"Hey, let him go and I mean right now, Brad," Andrew yelled as he attempted to pull the two boys apart. Once he managed to do so, he looked at Brad and then at Craig. "I want an explanation for this."

Craig looked as though he had been backed against a corner and the angel's heart really went out to the younger of the two boys. Instead of saying anything, the younger boy stood all the while trying to calm down. Once his heartbeat had returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, he was caught up in a moment of fear when he looked at Andrew and saw the interpreted anger in the eyes of the angel and he immediately thought it was directed at him and not at the situation.

Sadly, his pain is going to get worse before it gets better, Andrew thought as he regarded the young boy. Instead, he looked at Brad and spoke. "Brad, you know, picking on younger kids is not brave, nor is it a sign of toughness, it's quite cowardly."

"Oh, yeah, like you would know," Brad slurred as he released Craig and began to push Andrew away. Once he had done that, he lunged for Craig, the younger boy trying without success to run away.

He's high and has no idea what he's doing, Andrew thought to himself as soon as Brad had pushed him.

"Let go of me," Craig cried out when Brad had caught up with him and had forced his arms behind his back. Craig's frightened voice brought Andrew crashing back down the earth. He opened his eyes and could see that Brad was now pulling Craig towards the door leading outside.

As they exited the band hall, Brad immediately released Craig when he saw that Trisha was already outside and she was standing next to his car and was waiting for him.

At that moment, Brad turned around, and looked at Craig with the utmost contempt in his eyes. "I'll deal with you later, wimp," the older boy sneered as he walked off in the direction of where his car was parked.

"Are you OK?" Andrew asked once he had come outside and noticed that Brad was gone and Craig was now standing on the grass outside the doors leading into the large hall.

"Yeah, I guess so," Craig said as he pulled on his T-shirt. "I'm used to Brad using me as a punching bag."

"You shouldn't be used to that, he has no right to treat you like that," Andrew said softly.

"Maybe not, but who's going to stop him? I tell someone about what he's doing and he mashes me into a pulp out on the parking lot," Craig shook his head sadly. "I wish I was dead!" He said as he watched his sister and Brad getting into the car and the sounds of the motor erupted through the stillness.

"No Craig, you don't, your life is a gift," Andrew said softly as they both could hear that Brad had pulled out of the parking lot, the tires squealing in the wake of their departure. "Oh no, Adam," the angel muttered when he looked up and could see that his fellow Angel of Death was now walking across the parking lot in the direction of where the squealing tires had originated.

As the sounds faded in the distance, Andrew watched as Brad recklessly drove out of the school parking lot with Craig's sister Trisha in the front seat right beside him. Brad was completely delirious as he swerved in and out of the yellow line.

"What is that idiot doing?" Craig cried out. "Does he have a death wish, or what?"

"I don't know," Andrew said as he rested a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

The two of the continued to watch, but right before the car was supposed to disappear in the distance, Brad swerved it one last time towards the other side of the street right as a diesel was coming in the opposite direction. Before he could get out of the way, he rammed the small car against the front of the truck, thus completely crushing the passenger side of the car.

Any words that could have been said suddenly died on the angel's lips, and Craig turned around and could see that Brad's red Corvette was reduced to nothing more than a large heap of crumbled metal and steel.

"Trisha!" he screamed as loud as he could and ran away from Andrew in the direction of where the car was now standing. Before he reached the end of the street, the gas tank exploded, the resonance of the blast deafening and Craig covered his ears and could do nothing but watch helplessly as his sister died before his eyes. He turned around and could see that Andrew was now standing some two feet away from him, and he too was watching the events taking place.

Craig, not knowing what to do, slowly sank to the ground.

*****

As soon as the truck had hit the car, Trisha Peters had died, but as her spirit sought to discover what had happened, she could see a man with salt and pepper hair approaching her. She swallowed the lump that immediately formed in her throat and she looked at him. A-are you here to help me?

Yes, I am, though perhaps not in the way that you think, Adam said softly to her.

Am I dead, is that what you're saying?

Yes, your physical body is dead, Trisha, the impact from the car accident was devastating. Your friend, however, will survive, though he must go through extensive rehabilitation for drug dependency as well as physical therapy.

The teenage girl looked down at her clothing, gone were the blood soaked shorts and T-shirt she had worn on earth, in its place, she wore a flowing cream-colored dress. W-what's happened to me? She finally managed to ask him. W-ho are you?

My name is Adam, and I'm an angel, Trisha, I was sent here to take you home to God, you have nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart, that's why I'm here, to help you, he said.

You know, I was never really was a very faithful person, Adam, do you think I deserve to know God now after everything that's happened? She asked softly.

God knows that, Trisha, that's why He sent me to teach you a little about Him, before you are to meet Him. Adam smiled warmly at the young girl.

I'm so scared, I don't know what I would say to Him, she said softly.

Then we'll go to a special place and when you're ready, I'll take you home from there. You have no reason to be afraid, but I do understand.

Y-you're not going to leave me there alone, are you? She asked weakly and looked into his gentle gray eyes.

No, I will be with you until you are ready to go to Heaven, I promise.

T-thank you, she whispered shaking her head. But, can you tell me what is going to happen to my brother, and to my family? I don't think they will be able to understand why this all happened to me.

I know, but your brother has three angels taking care of him, God knew that he would need them now more than ever. Your brother has a difficult task ahead of him, as do you, but he will learn on Earth, while you will learn in God's Country. Adam said gently.

Adam, I always thought that I would grow up there, that I would be able to say the things to my brother that I wanted to say, that I love him, that he's my best friend, Trisha could feel her voice cracking.

I know, and my friends will make sure that he knows this. Come, it is time for us to go. He extended his hand towards her and she reached out and took it. Before she disappeared in the mist, she turned around one last time and could see that her brother was still on the ground and was watching the burning car with agony in his pale blue eyes.

He's going to be OK, isn't he?

Yes, God is watching over him, Trisha. Putting his arm around her, he led her to the place where she would learn that which she had been denied on Earth.

*****

Craig woke up nearly twelve hours later, his face covered with sweat and the tears streaming down his face. He crawled out of bed slowly and walked down the hallway into Trisha's bedroom. When he noticed that the room was empty, he could feel the tears stinging his eyes as he realized that his older sister was dead and that he had actually seen her die and was unable to do anything for her.

"Honey?" The voice of his mother, Regina, emerged in the dark stillness as she entered the room and looked down at her son as he sat on the floor in Trisha's bedroom. "What are you doing in here?"

"I had a nightmare, Mom," Craig said softly and shook his head, but he looked over at the empty bed and eventually back down at his lap as he shook his head.

"I guess it is understandable, you saw what happened," she looked at him. "Why didn't you stop her from getting into the car?"

"Would she have listened to me? Would anybody have?" Craig said softly. "I told you weeks ago that Brad was bad news, but nobody listened to me then, now she's dead, and you're asking me why I didn't stop her? I'll tell you why I didn't. That boyfriend of hers would have mashed me to a pulp, just like he did with every other freshman in that crummy school."

"Craig, Brad comes from a fine family, he wouldn't have done that, he liked you," Regina objected.

"No, that was just an act, he didn't like me, but that just shows that nobody listens to me. Did you know that before he left with Trisha that he cornered me in the band hall, and he looked completely strung out? Don't you understand; he was high, he shouldn't have been driving in the first place?" Craig said, his voice raising in pitch as it became more hysterical. "I'm sorry, but I'm going back to bed," Craig got up off the floor and walked slowly out of the room. In the hallway, he brushed past his father before going into the room and closing the door behind him.

As he came into his room, he sighed deeply, but as miserable as the young boy was feeling, he could not see that behind him, three angels stood and their expressions matched his own.

"Tess, what's going to happen to him now?" Monica asked weakly. "I didn't know that he was going to lose his sister."

"I didn't either," Andrew said softly. "I don't understand; why was Adam sent to her and not me? I'm an Angel of Death too, I should have been with Trisha when all of this happened."

"Baby, the Father sent Adam to her probably because He knew that Trisha would fight death. I'm guessing that He knew Adam had a few more years of experience with this kind of case than you have," Tess said softly.

"No, Tess, that's not the reason. I've had harder cases before, and I know how people can fight death, believe me, that can't be the reason," Andrew objected. "Why did He send Adam?"

"Andrew, it's not your place to question God's will," Tess said gently. "But, since you asked, that little boy seems to be responding better to you than to us. We're still going to be working with him, but he's going to be your assignment. This is about a young boy's future, Angel Boy, and God does know that you have a wonderful way with reaching young people."

"So I'm not really here as an Angel of Death at all?" Andrew asked.

"I don't know, baby, at this point in time, we'd have to rely on something Adam sometimes says, it could go both ways," Tess said sadly as the three of them continued to watch Craig.

*****

Andrew was standing alone in the band hall the following afternoon. It was no question, Trisha's death had left a profound impact on the rest of the band and the director cancelled rehearsals for the rest of the week. None of the kids had the heart to rehearse without Trisha and he could not help but notice that Craig had skipped class that day.

He sighed deeply as the doors opened and a lone figure walked into the large hall. He turned around and could see that Craig had come in, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down.

"Craig?" Andrew spoke the boy's name causing him to briefly look up and then his gaze fell back onto the carpeted floor in front of him.

"Hi," the boy spoke, his voice emerging with suppressed pain.

The angel walked over where he was standing, his eyes filled with compassion as he regarded the spiritually lost teenager. When he reached the boy, he extended his hand and rested it gently on Craig's shoulder. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Craig said softly. "I just didn't want to go home."

"Why's that?"

"My parents have a houseful of people and I didn't really know what to say, I mean; I saw…" his voice trailed and he looked despondently at the angel. "Andrew, why did I have to see this, why did I have to see her die?"

"I don't know, Craig, but I do know that she's not hurting anymore. Do you believe in God?" Andrew asked.

The boy shook his head. "I used to wonder if He existed, if He even cared, but now I don't know if I believe at all."

"Why, because of what happened to Trisha?" Andrew asked gently.

"No, just because of everything that's happened to me," he said softly.

"You know, sometimes when life gets hard, you have to find the strength to go on, Craig," Andrew said softly. "That means you often have to ask for the strength from God."

"Why would He listen to me? I've never even been to church and my parents are two of the people who rallied behind having prayer taken out of this school," Craig shook his head. "I don't think He would answer my prayers even if I did ask."

"Maybe He already did and you just don't know it yet," Andrew said softly. "All I know, is you're hurting, and nobody here wants to deny that of you. Nobody wants to you sink into the hurt and pain you feel. Craig, allow yourself to feel what it is you feel at this moment. If you deny yourself the chance to do so, you will not spiritually heal."

Craig looked around the room as he allowed Andrew's words to sink in. "I didn't want to come in here, I knew I'd remember Trisha and I'd feel so lost, more helpless than I have ever felt before. The worst thing now is just knowing that I can't quit."

"What do you mean 'quit'?" Andrew asked.

"My parents are even more determined that I will make something out of this band thing, that I will probably have to stay here and go through four years of this," Craig said softly.

"Are you really under so much pressure at home to do something that you don't enjoy?" Andrew asked gently.

"Look up at that wall," Craig whispered and Andrew did as the boy asked. All along the wall were old photographs of the former drum majors of the band, at one end for the classes of '65 and '67, were the photographs of Dustin Peters and Regina Cole.

"Your parents?"

Craig nodded, "yeah, and now that Trisha's gone, they want me to keep with the family tradition, eventually become drum major and lead this band to competition, but I hate it, Andrew, I don't want to."

"What do you want to do, then? Do you want your picture to hang on this wall too or do you want to find the path you're meant to follow and not the path paved out for you by your family?"

"What difference does it make what I want? If I even try to do what it is I want, then everyone will say that I'm being selfish for even trying to do what it is I like."

"Craig, it makes a bigger difference for you to do what you want to do with your life than what your parents expect. If you allow your parents to control you now, what will stop them from controlling you when you're an adult?" Andrew asked.

"I don't know," Craig said.

"I knew someone once, it was a girl whom I met when she was about your age, her name was Yvette, and she was absolutely passionate about her singing," Andrew began. "She would sing every day, and every minute that she couldn't, she dreamed of being on a stage, of giving her all for the music. She wanted to show the world that she had talent, and that she could do something special with her voice, but no one ever gave her the chance to try. I was sent to her school during her freshman year, it was right at the end of the year and her mother forced her to quit the choir, and stay in the band."

"Why?"

"Yvette told me that it was because her mother didn't like the director. Sadly, every dream that she had from that time until I left the school were centered around the wishes of other people and not on her own dreams. I saw her a few years later, it was when she quit the band and began to sing in the choir once again. This time there was a new director, and the woman was very thoughtless and unkind to her. Again, Yvette was never really given the chance to sing, she was not even allowed to audition for the top choir, she was stuck in a group that was not as experienced with music as she was, she wasn't cast for the musical, and her self-esteem was damaged beyond repair."

"What happened to her?"

"Today, she's grown up, but the scars are still with her, and she tries so hard to show people that everyone deserves the opportunity to do something special, that people are capable of being an endless source of surprise if given the chance," Andrew said softly. "I asked her the last time I saw her how she found so much strength, and she said 'it wasn't from my family like many people may believe, it came from my friends and from God, those were the ones who always believed in me'."

"Sometimes I wish I had those kinds of friends, right now what I want to do isn't important, the only thing that is significant is making my family proud, making Trisha proud," Craig said softly.

As if on cue, the door to the band hall opened and a tall, auburn headed woman walked into the room, her eyes brightening when she saw the angel standing in the middle of the band hall. "Andrew, oh my gosh, you're really here!"

Andrew turned and smiled when he saw her. "Yvette, what are you doing here?"

"This is my old high school, Andrew, don't you remember?" She asked, with a bright smile still on her face. "Didn't you think that I would not come back to the city without coming by here to visit?" When she saw the young boy standing next to the angel, she smiled warmly at him. "Hi, I'm Yvette, what's your name?"

"Craig Peters," he said.

"Nice to know you," she said but as she spoke, she remembered the name and she looked at Andrew, her eyes widening slightly. "I read about your sister in the paper, Craig, I'm terribly sorry to hear about what has happened."

"Yeah, well Andrew, I've gotta go," Craig said softly.

"Craig, the offer is still up, I still want to be your friend, not just your teacher," Andrew said, but before he could continue speaking, the door closed, Craig was gone, and the angel sighed deeply.

"You know, he reminds me of myself at that age, you know a little uncoordinated, shy, I mean he could be my little brother," Yvette said as she looked at the angel trying her best to shake what feelings she had about Craig. "It's been awhile since I last saw you, Andrew, how are you doing?"

"Worried," he mumbled.

Yvette looked back over towards the door, and then at him. "Let me guess, you think he might be suicidal, right?" The angel nodded and Yvette wrapped her arms around him. "You know, if there is an angel anywhere on this planet that I could have more faith in than what I have in you, I would love for God to show him or her to me. After all, I don't think there is anyone who can turn this mess around better than the fellow who is standing right here next to me. I know this is hard for you, but if you need me, I'll be around to help, but I'm only here for a couple of weeks, then my husband and I are heading back home."

"Maybe you can, Yvette, do you remember how to march?" He asked suddenly as an idea came into her mind.

Her eyes rolled, "Andrew that was over ten years ago."

"Yes I know, but marching is like riding a bicycle, you don't forget, or do you?"

"No probably not, I still walk in step with whomever it is I am walking around with," she said smiling weakly. "It's funny, I know, but it's so true. Why do you ask, anyway?"

"I have an idea, and I think you could help with it. There are a lot of kids here who are having problems with marching, and I just thought that maybe someone who used to do this themselves would be much better than an Angel of Death with no rhythm."

"You've got rhythm, Andrew," Yvette objected. "Don't put yourself down, God put you here for a reason, but now that you mention it, I think you've got a point," she said. "When should I come back?"

"Tomorrow maybe during sixth period, I'll arrange the rest," he said.

"OK, and Andrew?"

"Yes?"

"Don't worry, we will reach him," she smiled at him, her brown eyes filled with understanding.

"Yes, but will we reach him in time?"

Yvette held him tightly in her arms. "We will, somehow I think God knows what that boy needs, that's why He sent you. It's similar to when I needed to know the truth back when." As their hug loosened, Yvette walked towards the doors leading outside. As she walked, Andrew could hear that she began to softly sing.

As she disappeared through the doorway, he stood there watching her retreating back. Something's will never change, he thought to himself as he contemplated the young woman whose surprise appearance added an element of positivity to the entire assignment.

*****

At the same time, Trisha was seated on the ground next to Adam and she was looking around the beautiful meadow where they had been sitting since the night before when she had died.

"Trisha, you're being awfully quiet today, is everything OK?" Adam asked.

"I don't know, you've told me so much, I'm just trying to understand all of it," she said honestly. "I really can't believe that I'm sitting here in a meadow in this strange, but beautiful place and that my Angel of Death is seated beside me and I'm not freaking out or anything."

"You're surprised by this?"

"That's an understatement," Trisha said softly. "I never really thought about dying, I don't know if it's supposed to hurt, or if I would even know what had happened. Then when we got hit, I didn't feel anything, but you were there with me, and even though it helped, it frightens me that I don't remember why this had to happen."

"You know, sometimes God's plan is not our plan, Trisha, and He loves you so much that He was able to take your pain away, that's why your physical body died yesterday and why you're here now," Adam said gently. "Now, everything is behind you, and you are in the process of finding the road that leads you home, the only pain that could exist in this quest is emotional, and yet sometimes that's the hardest, and right now that is the same thing your brother will have to discover before he will fully heal."

"I'll never be able to go back to my life as it was, will I?" She asked weakly.

Adam shook his head. "No, your physical body has been dead since yesterday."

She could feel the tears in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that this was all just a dream," she whispered. "I really wanted to live."

"I know you did, and God knows that too," he said compassionately and as he spoke, he inched over next to where she was sitting and he pulled her gently into his arms.

"When will I be able to move on?" She asked him.

"You will move on when you're ready, Trisha," Adam said simply.

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know, but God knows and deep inside, you know as well," he said as he continued to hold her in his arms.

*****

It was raining the following day when Craig walked into the history classroom. He could see that Anthony had already arrived and was seated in a desk. He walked over to his friend and sat down next to him, his books hitting the desk with a resounding thud, thus causing Anthony to look up.

"Hey, you OK? I thought you'd be at home, I mean because of…" Anthony's voice trailed off.

"I decided to come today," he said softly.

"Man, are you OK?" Anthony asked.

"Yeah, sure, I'm great," Craig said sarcastically as the other kids filtered into the room, many of them showing their obvious surprise that the boy was actually in school that day.

"Why are you here?" Frank Goodman asked him as he sat down at one of the neighboring desks.

"I got sick of having to talk about the accident," Craig said.

"But you saw it," Frank said.

"Listen guys," Anthony stood up as Monica came into the room. "How would you feel if it was your sister and you were going through all this stuff? I mean, cut him some slack, already. If he made the choice to come to class today, that's his business, so why don't you try and put yourself in his shoes and show some compassion?"

"Hey, I'm sorry," Frank said.

Craig waved his hand in a gesture that everything was OK, but when Monica saw his face, she could tell that it was not OK. "Hello, I think today we're just going to have a study hall, if that's OK, seeing as this has been a pretty hard week for everyone. Just don't get too loud, we'll take up with Boston Tea Party tomorrow."

The groups of students nodded, moved their desks closer together and Monica came over to where Craig was seated. "May I see you for a moment, Craig?"

The boy stood up and followed the teacher over to the desk located at the front of the room. Once she had sat down, she motioned for him to sit down as well. Once he was seated she looked at him. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"You know, everyone's been saying that, but I'm OK."

"Are you? You looked pretty upset when Frank was talking to you before the bell rang," Monica said softly. "I know you don't think I saw what happened, but I did hear your voice out in the hallway, so I know that this must be very, very difficult for you. I want to help if I can."

"I'm OK, it's just been a terrible shock is all," Craig said honestly, and she could tell that he was trying without too much success to conceal his emotions.

Monica looked at the boy, her deep brown eyes staring into his and finally he had to look away. "You know, Craig, I really didn't think I'd see you here today. Why is it so hard to be at home with your family? That's where you should be right now."

"It's just too hard," he managed to say.

"Why?" Monica pressed.

"I don't want to talk about it, why can't you just stop asking me to," Craig said softly. With that he got up and left the classroom. Monica was tempted to follow him but when Tess appeared and she shook her head, the young Caseworker remained in the room. Dejectedly, she sat down at her desk.

*****

Craig walked down the hall towards the cafeteria, and at this point it didn't matter if he was caught or sent to detention for roaming the halls, at least he would have a reason to not go home at the end of the day. He sat down at one of the tables and rested his chin on his hands, his eyes filling with tears.

"It must be hard to go through the day without showing anyone how hurt you are, isn't it?" He looked up and could see that Yvette was now standing in the commons area, her brown eyes filled with compassion as she looked at the young boy seated there. She came over and sat down across from him. "You know this place hasn't changed a bit since I went to school here."

"What do you want?" Craig asked.

"I don't want anything, but maybe to help you out a little bit," she said. "You know, I graduated from this very school in 1989, just turned 30 last year, and you know everyone around me was freaking out because I turned 30, maybe they thought I wouldn't make it, I don't really know, but I don't really feel it either, I feel like I'm still a teenager at least here in my heart, but that's where it's important."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Yvette took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly before she began to speak. "Craig, you're not the only person who has lost someone you dearly loved at a young age, and you're not the only person who walks these halls feeling completely lost and alone."

"Why don't you go away?" He asked.

"I won't go away, because you need to know the truth," she said softly. "When I was your age, I had the same hang-ups as you do, I had the same problems, I had a nickname, everyone called me 'BS' and I allowed them to do it, because I wanted to be accepted by the older kids, the ones my older sister, Bridget, hung out with. But, do you know what? Being cool is nothing when it means you are being robbed of your dignity. You see, being accepted is special, but where you're accepted is also important, and if people are going ridicule you and hurt you, then you need to find another group to hang out with, and you need to understand that you're not alone. When I was going to school here, every Friday night before the football games would even start, they would have what is called an Invocation, do you know what that is?"

"No, what is it?" He asked weakly.

"It's a prayer, it's asking God to put His hand over this event, to guide each person home safely when it ended, to be there and protect all of us no matter where we come from, or where we're going," Yvette said softly. "Today, they don't have that anymore, and most of the kids your age don't have the spiritual guidance they need. I'm not talking about going to a specific church or practicing the doctrines of a denomination, I'm talking about the One who heals us when our spirits are broken, and yours is broken, Craig, you're hurting because your sister is no longer here, and that's painful for you, and it's OK to feel that way."

"How do you know what pain is?"

"I do know what it is," Yvette said softly. "When I was a teenager, my father walked out on us, and I went through my high school years without his influence in my life. Then when I was in college, my father died when I was 20-years-old, and that left me in a depression for over three years after his death. I grew up without any self-esteem, and I grew up believing that I had to do what my family wanted in order for me to earn their love. Today, I know that love should always be unconditional, but even in the knowledge, I know that it wasn't. Now, I see you, under the same kind of pressure. I don't have to know your entire story, Craig, I see it in you, because the same things are in me, and I know that Andrew told you about my issues regarding the choir, and I know that he did it because you needed to know that there are others out there who truly do understand you."

"You were really treated that way by the director your senior year?"

Yvette nodded. "There were people in the choir who were loved and revered, and the year we all graduated, one of the girls said 'what will I do without the choir?' Those were her words, and I thought about it and I realized that high school, although a milestone in my life, I was grateful that I didn't feel tied down to this idea of where will I go next? What will I do now? How will I make it through to another day? I realized that perhaps this director who disliked me so much actually did me a favor, she gave me a reason to let go when the time came to do so."

"What should I do?" Craig asked, his voice soft.

"I wish I could tell you which way you should go, or what path is right, but I can't, because each person must find their way, and sometimes people need a little extra help, and that's when God sends an angel."

"I don't believe in that," Craig said softly.

"Well, then let me give you a little word of advice, it's the only advice I an able to offer, but I can tell you this much, if you do it, you will find that it helps," she said smiling weakly at him.

"What?"

"Let Andrew in," she said gently.

"In, in what?"

"Into your world, Craig, let him help you break down those walls that surround you. Simply put, talk to him, let him be that friend you need right now," Yvette said softly. "He is a good friend, and he will help you if you trust him enough to allow it, don't run away from him anymore. I know this may seem un-cool, and he may be just a teacher to you, but I can tell you from my own experiences, he is much more than a teacher," she said smiling gently at him. "He's a good listener, and he truly does care for you."

She stood up and as she was about to walk away, the boy glanced up. "OK, I'll try," he said and, he too, stood up and started to walk away from the commons area.

Once he was gone, Yvette smiled and turned around to see that Tess was now standing next to her.

"You did well," the wise angel said.

Yvette nodded as Tess began to glow. "No great credit to me, I only told him the truth."

"Yvette," Tess said causing her to turn around. "You did more than tell him the truth, you shared a part of your past with him that will help him realize that he's not alone, and baby, that's a gift."

Yvette smiled thoughtfully at her. "Well, I would be careful with those things we call 'gifts', because in German, that word 'Gift' means 'poison'."

Tess chuckled and disappeared as Yvette walked down the corridor in the direction of the band hall.

*****

"Who is that woman who was sitting with Craig?" Trisha asked Adam. "I've never seen her before." The two of them were still sitting in God's Country, and Adam was showing the curious teenager what had been happening at the school she had once attended.

"Her name's Yvette, and she can relate to Craig on many different levels," Adam said.

"How do you mean?" Trisha asked.

"Yvette was a freshman, she had a sister who was a senior, and she was one of those kids who would wonder all the time where her place in the world was. The only difference between your family and hers was that Yvette's sister wouldn't let her into her world, while you really did try," Adam said. "Today, Yvette is rather strong, but it was through her experiences, which helped to define what kind of person she is now. She was in band too, and in fact, she went to your school, only it was during the 80's when she was there, but other than that, there was no real difference."

"You know, I used to call Craig a pest," she said softly. "I didn't mean it though, he was a great brother, but I knew he hated band. He wanted to quit, but our parents wouldn't let him. In fact, I'm scared that this pressure is going to get worse on him now that I'm…" her voice trailed off and she looked at him.

"Why do you believe that?"

"I don't know why, I mean; I loved being in the band, but I could march pretty decently even as a freshman, I guess I had to because the expectations were so great. Our parents met in the band, and my mom and dad thought that it was so fitting that I would date someone in the band as well, that was where I met Brad, but then after we dated for awhile, he changed, I can't explain how, but he did, and my parents thought it was just some passing, whatever you want to call it, fancy, but he became more violent, and reckless."

"Strung out?" Adam asked.

Trisha looked at him, her eyes wide. "I never thought I'd hear an angel say that, but yeah, he was constantly strung out on something, and I don't know why, but I was scared of him. I was so scared to break up, because I didn't want to hurt anyone, but…"

"You were hurting yourself," Adam said.

"Yeah, I guess I was," she whispered. "Brad was like two different people, Adam, around our parents he was nice and friendly, but when he was alone with Craig or with me, he'd hurt him and sometimes he'd hurt me too. My parents said that it was his 'good family' that was the excuse for him," she shook her head sadly and looked into the eyes of the angel. "But now, I'm … here." Her words emerged through the tears that were now streaming down her face and she once more sought the comfort of the angel.

"You know, Trisha, you have to forgive yourself for what happened," Adam said softly. "I think now would be a good time for me to take you home, what do you think?"

"Would God accept me, Adam?"

"Yes, He would. Do you see that light over there?" Adam asked as he stood up and offered his hands down to her. When she accepted them, he pulled her firmly but gently to her feet.

Once she was standing, she could see the golden light in the distance and she stared at it. "What is it? I-I mean, it's beautiful."

"Are you afraid of walking to that light? I will tell you, you have no reason to fear it, for God is here with you, and He is ready to welcome you Home," Adam said gently. He took the face of the young girl and made her look at him, his hands soft against her face. "No fear, Trisha, He loves you and when you feel His light on you, you will know that all the mistakes and all the things that happened in your life are embraced by God. He would not turn away from you, not ever."

"He loves me so much that He was willing to wait for me?" She asked softly, her voice shaky.

"Yes, He does," Adam began to walk slowly towards the light, and he smiled when she reached out for his hand. Once she held it, she began to walk slowly with him towards the light.

"Thank you so much for being so patient with me," she said. "Will you do me a favor?"

"What would you have me do?" He asked.

"Just go back and tell Craig that I think he should quit the band if that is what his heart is telling him to do, and that I love him," Trisha said softly.

"I will do that," Adam said gently, and with his arm around the young girl's shoulder, he led her to the light.

*****

Craig walked with weighted steps towards the band hall, the words from Yvette still resonating in his mind. He glanced around and could see the empty corridors and he wondered where he should go, back to Monica's classroom or to the band hall where he could sit and wait until the next period class was to begin.

Sighing sadly, he decided to walk towards the band hall. When he reached the large brown doors leading into the large classroom, he paused for a moment and then opened the doors and went inside.

As he came into the empty hall, he closed his eyes for a few moments, and after checking to see that he was alone, he sat down on the carpeted floor in the middle of the room and began to speak. "Trisha, you were the only person who ever understood me, and now you're gone. I don't know if I will ever get over this, I feel so lost, so alone. I want to be with you Trisha, and tonight I'm going to end it all."

As he stood up, he walked with weighted steps towards the doors leading outside. Once he disappeared outside, Andrew stood, the tears streaming down his face. Seconds passed and Yvette walked into the band hall, her smile disappearing when she saw that he carried a sad, almost heartbreaking, look in his eyes.

"Andrew, what is it?" She asked practically running over to him and wrapping him in her arms.

"Craig wants to end his life," Andrew said softly.

"No, I just talked to him in the cafeteria, and everything seemed to be fine. I mean; this can't be true," she could feel her own emotions starting to get the better of her. "I-I told him to talk to you, and to trust you." As the tears began to stream from beneath her eyes she shook her head. "This is all my fault."

"No, Yvette, it's not," he said softly.

"Yes, it is, I was only trying to help him, because…"

"Because you saw so much of yourself in him," Andrew finished for her.

She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to stream from beneath her eyes, but all the while, she nodded. "He's decided without giving himself a chance. A chance…"

"Shhh, it's OK," Andrew consoled her gently as he wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly in his embrace. "You did more to help that child than you realize, Yvette, but ultimately, the choice will lie with him, not with you."

"Andrew, there was a difference between him and me, wasn't there?"

"Yes, a big one, you never gave up," he said. "You had as hard of a life as he did, but you believed that chances would come to you when you asked for them, not when you simply waited for them."

Yvette nodded as the angel continued to hold her tightly in his arms and she allowed the suppressed emotions to emerge. "I wish there was more that I could do."

"There isn't, the rest will be up to Craig," Andrew said gently.

"Do you think he'll make the right choice?"

"I don't know any better than you do, I only hope that he does," Andrew said softly.

*****

Craig came into the house that afternoon after taking a cab home from the school, his parents were there, as well as his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, and he had to fight his way through all the people to go upstairs to his room. As he reached the stairs, his father called out to him over the sounds of the people in the living room. As he approached Craig turned around and could see the concern in his father's stern face.

"You're home early. How was school?" Dustin asked his son, but Craig looked as though his father was somehow accusing him for causing this tragedy to befall his family and this angered and upset him even more.

"Fine," Craig said and looked around, when he saw the late bus driver standing amongst the relatives, he quickly excused himself and went over to where she was standing. "What are you doing here, I thought you were the bus driver?"

"I volunteer over at the community center and they asked me out here to help your parents cope with everything," Tess said smiling warmly at him.

"Oh, yeah, well thanks," he said softly.

"You going to be around here this afternoon?" Tess asked.

"Yeah, for a while anyway, then I have some homework to do upstairs for tomorrow," he said.

"Tomorrow's the funeral, don't you think you should go there and perhaps say good-bye?" Tess asked and her dark brown eyes regarded the youth with worry.

"I know, but I honestly don't know if I can handle going. I don't really know what to say, and I'm tired of people looking at me as though I'm at fault for it," he said honestly. "Tess, have you ever felt really lost as though everywhere you went you were just wandering aimlessly and not sure where you're supposed to go?"

"It must be hard for you, you feel like you are constantly living up to other people's expectations of you, but not even living up to your own," she said smiling gently at him.

"Yeah, I guess so, well, I guess I'd better get on that homework," he said. "I'll see you around." Once he left her standing there, he failed to notice that the angel had disappeared.

Instead, he practically broke into a run to get up the stairs and reach the safety of his bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door. "I want to go now," he mumbled to himself and ran immediately into the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. As he opened the medicine cabinet, he found various containers filled with pain medications. Those, he took down and carried them back into his bedroom and closed the door.

The teenager had no idea, but Andrew was now standing near the door to his room, dressed in a beige suit, and unspeakable sadness showing in his compassionate green eyes.

Please don't do this Craig, there must be some hope left inside of you, Andrew said softly, knowing full well that his assignment could not hear his words, but he deeply wished that he could speak to Craig, but all the while he knew full well that he could not interfere.

"He wants to try, doesn't he?" Adam's voice and Andrew turned and nodded to his fellow Angel of Death. Both angels remained in angelic form, neither of them seen or heard by the distraught teenager.

"Why are you here?" Andrew asked. "Isn't one Angel of Death enough?"

"Yes, but I'm not here as his Angel of Death, Andrew, you are," Adam said softly. In his hand, he carried a letter, and this he laid on the desk and backed away from it.

"What is that?" Andrew asked.

"It's a letter Trisha wrote to her brother. She held it in her hand when she died, and after I took her Home she asked me to come back for it and bring it to her brother," Adam explained. "I don't know if it will help Craig, but at this point, it can't hurt." He could see that the teenager was now trying to open one of the bottles of medications, and he shook his head sadly and continued to watch the youth's actions.

Craig looked around the room one last time after he had managed to open the pills, but when his gaze came to rest on his desk and he saw the small envelope, the bottle of pills slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, the capsules scattering across the wooden floor.

He went to the desk and looked down at the letter that was addressed to him, the entire envelope was decorated with Trisha's handwriting and hand drawn butterflies. He picked it up very carefully before cautiously opening it and pulling the contents out. As he unfolded the piece of paper, he looked down at the neat script of his older sister and read the letter from start to finish before folding the page and returning it to the envelope.

After reading the words of his sister, Craig could feel the tears brimming from beneath his eyes and were eventually streaming down his cheeks and he looked up from where he was standing in the room. "She loved me," he cried softly as he hugged the letter to his chest. "She really loved me."

"Yes, she did," a voice emerged and he looked up to see Adam standing in the room, the angel was glowing and he smiled gently at the young boy. "It was her love for you that kept her from going to Heaven for nearly two days, Craig."

"W-who are you?"

"His name is Adam and he was with your sister when she died," Andrew's voice emerged and the boy turned his head and was now looking at the younger angel and when he could see they were both glowing, he backed up against the wall, causing Andrew to begin speaking once again. "Don't be afraid, Craig, we won't hurt you, God has sent us both here to be with you right now, for in this moment you must make a choice."

As Craig looked up, he could see that both of them were still there and glowing.

"Y-you're…"

"We're angels, Craig," Adam said gently, but when he came closer to him, the boy backed up even further, the fear evident in his pale blue eyes. "No, don't be afraid, we're here to help you."

"Y-you were with Trisha?" He asked weakly.

"Yes, I was, and she asked me to bring you that letter because she wanted me to tell you how much she loves you, and how special you are to her," Adam said softly.

"I want to be with her, I need her. I feel so lost without her," Craig began to cry weakly, his voice emerging in hiccups as he sank to the floor.

"We know," Andrew said gently as he came over to where the boy was on the floor and sat down next to him. "Craig, look at me," he said softly and some moments later the young boy looked up at him. "I know that this is a bit hard for you to understand or accept, but Trisha is happy now, she's at peace in the arms of God. Now you must understand that God knows you're hurting in all of this and He does love you very much. No matter what has happened or will happen, He is always going to love you, and He's going to be there for you if you let him in."

"Yvette told me that I should let you in," Craig said softly. "But, I'm so scared."

"I know you are," Andrew said softly.

"Trisha was too," Adam said gently as he sat down next to the boy. "She was worried about you, she wanted to come back, but when I told her she couldn't, she needed time to work through all of this and I was there to help her, before I got to take her home."

"Home?"

"To Heaven, Craig, Adam and I are Angels of Death," Andrew said gently.

"W-who would have taken me if I had taken those pills," Craig asked weakly still looking at the capsules scattered across his bedroom floor.

"I would have," Andrew said gently.

"I'm scared to die, Andrew, but I'm scared to go on, too," he said softly. "I want to quit, but I'm afraid to tell my parents, I just don't know how. I don't know what I want to do with my life, and I know they will ask me and I'll just have to stand there unable to say anything."

"You know, most 14-year-old kids we've encountered don't know what they want to do with their lives, but that's why God gives you inspiration, and then one day you'll wake up and you'll know what you want to do. Let me ask you a question, Craig, and you don't have to answer it, but do think about it; what's the point of continuing to do that which does not bring you joy?" Andrew said and Adam nodded.

"Trisha told me a lot about this marching band stuff, but one of the things she told me was that she felt pressured into it by your parents, as well. This is probably something she never told you, but she was always sensitive to it," Adam said gently. "She told me before I took her home that you should follow your heart and listen to your conscious, Craig, and that will never lead you astray."

The boy nodded numbly. "I don't know what to say, I've never really believed in God before."

"We know, but do you know what?" Andrew asked and when the boy shook his head, he continued. "God never stopped believing in you. He loves you, Craig, and He's waiting for you to talk to Him."

"H-how do I do that?" Craig asked.

"Like you would with a friend," Adam said and disappeared.

Once Craig and Andrew were alone in the room, the teenager looked up at him. "W-would you still want to talk to me?"

"Yes," Andrew smiled, "I would."

Craig looked at him. "Why did God send you to me?"

"Because He knew that you needed a friend," Andrew said softly.

"I always felt so lost, Andrew, like I was trying to find something, and my parents kept telling me what was important to me, but they never accepted what I said that was important to me," he said softly. "You know, there is something I want to do, but I can't because my parents won't let me."

"What would you do?" Andrew asked.

"I told my friend Anthony about it, and he thought it was a great idea, but I guess I can tell you about it too. I wanted to help out over at the nursing home maybe go and talk to the people. I mean; I like history a lot, but I'd rather hear it from people who lived through it, instead of reading about it in a book. Does that make sense?" He asked.

"Yes, it does, and maybe all you need to do now is show that letter Trisha wrote to you to your parents, maybe then they will realize that a picture on the wall is not as important as that feeling of fulfilling what it is that one is being led to."

"Yvette was right about one thing," Craig said softly.

"What was that?"

"She told me today that you are much more than just a teacher, but I was scared to talk to you about everything, I was afraid that you would think that I was being silly," Craig said honestly, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"I wouldn't have done that to you, Craig, when I said that I wanted to be your friend, I meant it, those weren't just my words, they were the truth," Andrew said softly. "See, I knew that you were under pressure from the start, but I also knew how important it was for you to openly talk about it. An angel can tell you a lot of things about yourself, simply because God gives us the information we need when we need to have it, but sometimes you have to realize those things before you reach a point when you're ready to listen to the truth. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Not really," Craig said softly.

Andrew looked at the teenager. "Let me ask you a question. Would you have believed me if I told you I was an angel three days ago when we first met?"

Craig shook his head.

"You believe me now, yes?"

"Yeah," the boy mumbled.

"Three days ago you were not ready to know the truth, though I knew from the start that you would find it out in time," Andrew said softly.

"Why am I so afraid?"

"I don't know, sometimes facing the truth can be a very frightening thing for people to do, but right now you have so much fear and sadness inside of you along with all the difficulties you face with your parents, that well, it is truly no wonder you have felt so lost, but Craig, suicide is not the answer. If Adam hadn't come here with that letter, you would have tried to end your life, wouldn’t you?"

The boy nodded numbly. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"I couldn't interfere, Craig, you have free will and under no circumstances am I to interfere with that," he said gently.

"Is God mad at me?"

"No, He loves you and I would guess that He is rather relieved that you have decided to not go through with it. He gave you the gift of life, and that gift is so special, Craig, and when your life does not go as you wish for it to, the Father waits to help you discover why, but first you have to ask Him," Andrew said softly.

"How?"

"Have you ever prayed, Craig?" Andrew asked gently.

The boy shook his head, and the angel took the teenager's hand in his and he smiled gently. "Close your eyes and bow your head," Andrew instructed. "Now tell Him what you want Him to know."

Craig tried to find his voice, but when he couldn't, he opened his eyes and looked at Andrew. "I can't, I don't know how."

The angel squeezed the boy's hand. "It's OK, I'll show you and then you will be able to talk to God whenever you need to." Once Craig had nodded, he closed his eyes, and eventually he could hear that Andrew had started speaking. "Father, Craig and I are here today and we would like to thank you for your love not only for Craig but also for his family and all of Trisha's friends. Please Father, help your child, Craig find his way in this world, he has much to learn about you, but he has much to learn about how to speak up for what he wants and to find where his path leads. Please, give him the courage and the strength to follow where his conscious will guide him. We love you Father, and we trust that you will help not only your child, but also all the people who were touched by this tragedy."

As Andrew stopped speaking, Craig opened his eyes and looked at the angel. "You just talk to Him like a friend?"

"Like a friend, a father, a confidant, all those things, Craig, because God is all there is, and He is love. He doesn’t want to see you sad by what has happened, but He knows that you're saddened because of Trisha and that's perfectly OK. He hopes you will not lose yourself because of all of this and more than anything, He wants to be there for you, and He will be there for you as long as you acknowledge His presence, and seek out His wisdom."

Craig nodded numbly, his eyes filled with sadness. "Andrew, I'll try, but it's hard."

"I know it is, but if you give Him all the hurt you feel inside, you will eventually, heal," he said softly. "That means you have to allow yourself to grieve that which you have lost."

"It's hard for me to do anything, I feel at fault for what happened," Craig said softly.

"You're not at fault, Craig, you did not cause this accident to happen. Trisha made the choice to get into the car with Brad, you didn't force her to do so, and Brad made the choice to drive even though he was not fit to be behind the wheel of a car. It was an accident, and no matter what your family says, you must never believe that you're at fault for what happened." Andrew looked intently into the soft blue eyes of the boy.

After a few moments had passed, Craig nodded numbly. "Andrew, can I ask you an unrelated question?"

"You can ask me anything you want," the angel said softly.

"Does Yvette know that you're an angel?" He asked.

"Yes, she learned this when she was 14 as well," he smiled gently at him.

"Why didn't she tell me when she talked to me earlier?"

"Would you have believed her?" Andrew asked.

"No, I would probably have thought she was nuts," he said softly shrugging his shoulders. "Did you know that this was going to happen to Trisha?"

"No, I didn't, Craig, none of the angels sent to you knew that this was going to happen," Andrew smiled gently at him.

"How am I going to find my way without her?"

"You will, because God has every intention of guiding you, Craig, all you have to do is ask Him, and He will do the rest," Andrew said gently, and when he could see the tears in the eyes of the young boy, he pulled him into his arms and for the first time since Trisha's death, Craig Peters was finally able to release all the pain he felt and properly grieve all that he had lost.

*****

On the other side of town, Brad Summer woke up in a hospital bed. He had been in a coma since the accident had happened and he was completely confused, but also in a great deal of pain. As he tried to sit up, he realized that this was simply not possible and when he reached up to touch his face, all he could feel was the soft gauze that was wound around and covered his face.

He looked around where he was lying, but at this point, he was unable to see much of what was around him. He could not recognize where specifically he was or why he was even there. All he was able to remember was seeing Trisha's little brother, Craig, standing in the band hall at the school and him taking after him to beat him up again.

Now he was here, wherever that was, and right now whenever he would try to move his legs, he couldn't, and as a result, he became aware of how much this frightened him. "Mom? Dad?" He moaned and all the while he was trying desperately to find any semblance of familiarity in this room, but it was no use, he could not see anyone that he knew and more than anything, this scared him.

Not far from his bed, Monica stood in angelic form, her eyes watching the young man with sadness as he lay in the hospital bed. "Miss Wings, Brad Summer is your new assignment," Tess' voice brought her back to the present.

"Am I the right angel for Brad, Tess? My heart really went out to Craig, and it was Brad's actions that hurt that wee boy so terribly," Monica said softly. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Keep the faith is all I can tell you, Miss Wings," Tess said and disappeared.

"Who's in here?" Brad's voice abruptly emerged and Monica looked down at her clothing. She immediately recognized the starched white nurse's uniform she wore and she glanced around and noticed that she was standing in human form next to the window. She opened the shades before she turned away from the window.

"I'm Monica," she replied as she came over to the bed. "It's nice that you've decided to come back to us, Brad. The doctor should be in very soon to check you over."

"What happened to me?" He asked weakly, his voice scratchy and the angel reached for a plastic cup, filled it with water and handed it to him.

"You and Trisha were in a car accident, two days ago," Monica answered.

"Trisha? Where is she, what happened to her?" He asked, but as his spoke, he tried without success to sit up in the bed.

"I'm sorry, Brad, but Trisha did not survive the accident, and your parents are now over at her house offering their condolences to the family," Monica said softly as she tried to adjust his pillows.

"Y-you mean, she's dead?" Brad looked at her.

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry, Brad," Monica said softly. "From what I understood, she died instantly and didn't feel any pain."

"I didn't mean for it to happen," he cried out.

"Why did this happen, Brad?" Monica asked him gently.

"I don't know," he lied.

"Yes, I think you do know, the diesel driver said that you were darting in and out across the yellow line. He reported that it wasn't him that hit you, but you that hit him, the side of the car where Trisha was sitting was completely crushed from the impact," Monica said gently.

"I don't know, the last thing I remember was taking that speed, and now I'm here," he whispered.

"You were on drugs and driving?" Monica asked.

"I've been taking them to help me stay awake," Brad said softly. "I guess things got a little bit out of hand. Monica, why can't I feel my legs?"

"Your legs could not be saved, Brad," Monica said softly.

"You mean I've been punished for all of this?" Brad asked.

"No, you're not being punished, but you have hurt many people, Brad," Monica said softly. "You have devastated a family, and in the process you have also hurt your own family because of drugs."

"What's going to happen to me?"

"You're going to be checked into a physical therapy program as well as a drug rehabilitation center," Monica said softly as she checked the clipboard that was lying on the nearby table. "It's going to be a rough road ahead, Brad, but I think the prognosis is rather good."

Brad nodded numbly, but closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Monica glanced skyward and began to pray, her voice soft. "Father, forgive me for questioning your will, but am I really the right angel for this? I don't know if I can do this without getting upset at him for what has transpired. Please Father, fill me with your everlasting love and help me to practice forgiveness. I love you."

As she left the room she could feel the loving light of God encompassing her, and with that, she felt her confidence boosting with regard to this particular assignment.

*****

Yvette was waiting outside of the band hall the following afternoon. She smiled weakly when she saw Andrew walking towards her. As he reached where she stood, he embraced her and she held tightly to him as the cool autumn breeze wafted through her short red hair.

"Is everything OK?" She found herself asking him. "I wanted to see you again before we leave to go home, but I wasn't sure what had happened. Did Craig…?" Her voice trailed off and although she noticed that the angel looked rather tired, she released her held breath when Andrew shook his head.

"He didn't, Yvette," the angel said gently. "My friend Adam found something that helped encourage him to keep living."

"I'm really relieved, but you still look a little worried, is everything OK?" She asked, her sympathetic brown eyes looking intently at him.

"It's about the boy who was driving the car when Craig's sister was killed," Andrew began. "He's in the hospital, and…"

Before Andrew could continue speaking, Craig came walking over to him and threw a fistful of torn up paper at him. "It's all your fault," the boy yelled and he looked at Yvette. "You told me to trust him, huh? Well, I did and now things are worse."

"Craig, what happened?" Andrew asked weakly.

"I showed my parents the letter, and that's what's left of it," the boy turned on his heels and walked away.

Andrew tried to collect the pieces of the ripped letter, but the wind had started to blow, and this sent Yvette running after them. As she ran towards the flying pieces of paper, she managed to salvage some of them. She returned to him. "I could only get part of it," she said, and he could see that she was out of breath.

The angel looked at the human woman standing next to him. "I don't know how much it will help make things better, Yvette."

"Maybe you don't but I have an idea," she said and grabbed his hand. "I think we need to pay the parents a little visit."

"I can't do that," he said.

"Then I will, do you know the address?" She asked as she took the pieces of paper and stuffed them into her jacket pocket. "Andrew, we both know that that boy can't take much more of this, he needs to be free to choose for himself. I mean, if we don't say anything, then he's just going to be as lost and aimless as he always was. We can't do that."

The angel took a deep breath and after a minute, he nodded. "OK, let's go."

They walked over to the parking lot, got into Tess' Cadillac and Andrew drove them to the home of the Peters family.

As they got out of the car some five minutes later and walked up to the front door, Yvette wiped her nervous hands down the front of her sundress. As she rang the doorbell, she waited and eventually Regina opened the front door.

"Yes?"

"Hi, my name is Yvette, and this is Andrew, we're friends of your son, Craig," she began.

"Come in," Regina said softly.

"We don't mean to interrupt, but your son is dealing with a lot right now," Andrew said. "I'm actually the assistant band director at his school."

"Well, this is a surprise, but what are you doing here?" Regina asked. "My husband's at work right now, but you can talk to me about whatever is going on. We're always happy to support the band."

"Yes, we know, but did you know that your son wants to quit?"

"He can't quit, this is something that is very good for him, and the sooner he realizes it the better," Regina said.

"Better for whom?" Yvette asked calmly.

"I don't like your tone, Miss," Regina said crossly.

"I am not a Miss, I am a Mrs. and I know how Craig feels," Yvette said calmly trying all the while to keep her voice steady. She looked at Andrew, and when the angel nodded, she continued to speak. "You know, I was in the band there too, I graduated in 1989, and I still have dreams about the band, those horrible summers when it was over 90 degrees outside, I was sweltering and trying desperately to remember how to mark time, or take 8 steps between each of those white lines, and having my peers literally yelling at me if I don't do it right. I had the band director right up in my face once screaming at me because I didn't get it right. See, Craig and I have a lot in common, Mrs. Peters. While I was struggling to balance what I wanted to do with what my family expected, I lost myself in all of it. Today, you have a son, a very smart young man, and he's just as lost as I was."

"I want you out of here," Regina said. "You have no idea what my son is doing."

"Perhaps, I don't," Yvette shot back. "Perhaps the band you were in and the one I was in were two different things, or perhaps you have this romantic image of marching band that I don't understand, but what I feel isn't important, Mrs. Peters, what is, is that your son hates it. Your own daughter wrote a letter to him, and you tore it up because you didn't want to see the truth." She pulled out the scraps of paper and laid them on the coffee table. "You know, both of your children were pressured into band, one of them was good at it, and was the drum major. But the other one, bless his heart, didn't feel complete there, he wanted something else, but the minute he gunned up the courage to tell you, his last reminder of his sister was destroyed, and he was left feeling that because he's a child that he's 'supposed' to do what his parents say. But, when the will of his parents takes over and begins to rub out who he is, then when will this child be able to grow up expressing himself without having to do the will of someone else?"

"You should go…"

"My father died when I was 20-years-old," she continued interrupting. "One of my most valued possessions was the last birthday card he ever sent me before he died. I have something with his handwriting on it, something that he gave me, something that told me that I mattered to him. This letter to your son, was that reminder of his sister, and now it's gone, you destroyed it. It's no wonder your son is so angry with Andrew and with me. The one thing that connected him to his sister is now gone. My heart aches for him."

With that she got up and walked outside and closed the door behind her, Andrew looked at Regina.

"Your friend is very vocal," Regina said softly.

"Yes, she is, and every word she said was the truth," Andrew said softly. "But there is something else that you don't know, something that your son has yet to tell you."

"What?"

"This letter that you destroyed was the one thing that prevented Craig from destroying himself," Andrew said as he began to glow.

"What's happening?"

"I'm an angel Regina, I was with your son the day after Trisha died. You were down here and he had gone upstairs with the intention of killing himself. My friend Adam was with Trisha when she died, Regina, and he had talked to her about that one thing that your family and this community had denied her; he told her about God. Trisha was frightened and she wanted to help Craig understand that he is special." He reached for the pieces of the letter, this time the letter was once again whole and he opened it.

Dear Craig,

I never told you before what I am going to tell you today, but I love you so much and I admire you for your ability to remain strong even though there are people like Brad out there who push you around. Your strength is really wonderful, and I wish I had some of that in myself. The truth is; I am only good at following orders, whether they be from a band director, or from Mom and Dad. I'm not any good at offering people the beautiful things you can with your kindness and good heart.

I love you, little brother, and no matter what happens, whether you become the best marching band member, the worst, or you follow your heart and quit, the fact will remain, you will always be my brother. Craig, you're not a pest or anything else that they say, you're someone whom I've always admired and loved. You are my best friend, and you always will be that, no matter what happens, don't ever forget that.

Your Sister,

Trisha

"These are the words your daughter wanted Craig to know, she wanted him to follow his conscience, she wanted him to find a place where he belonged, and she knew all along that this wasn't manifest in a portrait hanging in a band hall. Trisha knew that what Craig wanted was to belong somewhere, to be that person that she admired and loved, not the person his parents expected or molded him into being," Andrew said softly.

Regina looked at him. "How could you do this to us?"

"I am doing nothing," Andrew said softly. "God sent me to be with your son the day he saw this letter. He sent Adam and me on that afternoon when Craig wanted to end his life. Now, He has not only sent me to give you the truth, He has sent you a young woman who knows the pain of being told what to do and what kind of person to be. She survived because she's strong, but how strong is your son, Regina, how strong is Craig?"

Before she could answer, Andrew was gone, and she reached down and picked up the letter that lay on the coffee table. As she read the words on the piece of stationary, her eyes filled with tears and blurred the words.

*****

Outside, Andrew approached where Yvette was standing along the curb next to the car. "Hi," he smiled gently at her.

"I hope I didn't ruin things, sometimes I'm too blunt for my own good," she said softly as she wiped the tears from beneath her eyes. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she looked around where she was standing.

"No, you gave her some things to think about," he smiled gently.

"I guess I should get going," she began and started to walk away, but when she felt his hand on her shoulder, she turned back around to face him.

"I won't forget how you helped with this, Yvette," he said softly. "You may not believe it, but you really made a difference here, and perhaps that is what you ought to hold onto, not all those past experiences, which held you back and denied you what you really needed. Those are things you cannot change, you'll never be able to change them because they are things in the past and they cannot be changed by anyone. What you can do is to allow them to be the memories, whether precious or not, but believe me, you will achieve far greater things in your life if you release the pain they brought you and hold, instead, to the things that brought you joy."

"Like singing?" She asked.

"Like singing," he smiled and nodded at her and she wiped the last of the tears from her eyes.

"You know, maybe this is a bad time to say so, but shouldn't we be out looking for Craig? I mean, he could be in some kind of trouble. After all; he did look pretty upset when we saw him at the school."

Andrew nodded, "come on, let's get back to the school."

Yvette quickly got into the passenger side of the car and waited for him to get in. Once there, he started the car and they quickly drove back in the direction of the school. As soon as they got there, the angel and the human woman got out and looked around.

"Where was the last place you saw him go?" Andrew asked.

"I don't know, but I do remember a place where I used to go when I was bummed about things, maybe that's where he went," she said softly.

Andrew looked up and could see that Tess had come out of the school. "Angel Boy," she said softly.

"What is it, Tess?"

Before Tess could answer, Yvette ran off, for some reason, she knew where the teenager had gone, and more importantly, she knew that time was of the essence. She didn't look back, but she could see that Andrew had started to follow her as soon as Tess had said what she had to say.

*****

The large junkyard not far from the school provided Craig a place to hide. He had never been there before, but this seemed a good time to go there. No angels, no meddling women, he could just stay here for good. He used to like this place, he could go there, walk around, and find things to put together in his parents' garage.

Sighing sadly he walked slowly towards the inner recesses of the yard. He knew that the car his sister had died in was brought to this place, but instead of trying to find it, he wanted to run from any mass of metal that was red in color.

"The last place you saw her?" He turned around and could see that Yvette was standing in near the entrance.

"Go away, can't you see I want to be alone?" He snapped. "All you have done has made things worse."

"Have I?" She asked. "I spoke the truth, you were the one that ran away, well you can't run away Craig, if you do, you'll be running for the rest of your life."

"Go away," he said, his voice lowering considerably and she could tell that he really didn't want her to go away, in fact, he found himself almost comforted by this woman's presence.

"Do you want me to go?" She asked weakly.

"N-no," he looked up at her. "B-but, why do you do this?"

"Because I care," she said simply. "It may not make sense to you now, but when you're older, it will."

"I can't do anything," he said softly.

"Have you tried? I mean; really tried? Craig you talk about wanting things to change, but do you really make the effort without getting angry or shoving those people away? You know, I know you're pretty devastated because of Trisha, but ever since I met you, I have never seen you show it, I've never seen you cry. You just get angry, angry with me, or with Andrew, who is only trying to help, and you know, even he can be just as lost in the process of all this as you are. You lost your sister, someone you love, but yet all you show is how much you hate being in the band or how angry you are with your parents."

"I-I don't really hate the band, I'm just not good at it," he whimpered.

"What is it then?"

"Brad would threaten me, he would beat me up, and Trisha wouldn't do anything," he said softly. "I kept hoping that she would and now…now…"

"Craig, it's OK, you can cry, you need to," she came over to him and sat down on the ground near where he was standing. "Come here, it's OK." Once he reached her, she grabbed his hand, pulled him onto the ground next to her, and took him in her arms. "Now, let it out, let all those things out that hurt you, you have a friend now who wants to be there for you, and yeah, more than anything, she understands."

Craig shook his head, "I-I can't."

"You can't or you won't?" She challenged him. "Cry, just cry, scream let those things out. You know, I didn't let go of my past for a long time, and finally meeting you helped me to do that, it put everything into its proper perspective. You are like a ship sailing through the ocean without a compass, there's no direction, but now you have people, you have angels who want to give you that compass, and because you're angry, you're simply not taking it. Now, you can."

"H-how?"

"Let the emotions go through you, with them you will know what to do, but if you do nothing, then that bitterness, that anger, will be like a poison that rages havoc on your soul, and then you will lose yourself," she said gently as she continued to rock the young boy in her arms. "When my father died, I remember being lost, and I remember looking for friends to help bring me back up, but they never did because they were false friends, they didn't care. Today, I know who my friends are and I know that no matter what happens, that the true friends will help when my world crumbles before my eyes."

"How did you say good-bye?" He asked.

"I prayed one night, this was about five months ago or so, and I asked God to tell my father that I loved him and that I said good-bye," I said. "You know, Andrew is right about one thing he says, God does love you, Craig. I know this because today I feel His love with me, even during those times when I feel lost and drifting."

Craig could still feel the woman's arms around him, and within seconds the barriers broke and he began to weep softly in her arms. She ran her hand through his hair and stroked his head gently.

"That's it, just let it out," she whispered as she held him and he cried in her arms.

Some ten minutes later, they were still sitting on the ground, and Andrew and Tess approached the two of them, behind them Regina stood and she watched as her son wept in the arms of the young woman. "Craig?"

The boy looked up and could see his mother was now standing not far from the entrance and he crawled away from Yvette. The younger woman stood up and she smiled gently at Craig. "Go talk to her, I think she's ready to hear the truth now. Are you ready to tell it?"

He nodded and walked slowly towards where his mother stood. When Craig reached his mother he looked around and could see that Tess and Andrew were smiling encouragingly at him. "Craig, I'm sorry, will you forgive me?" From her pocket, she pulled out an envelope and the teenager immediately recognized it as the letter Trisha had written to him.

"How did you get this?"

"Your friends brought it," Regina said softly.

"They repaired it?"

"Andrew did, and he told me a few things that I guess I really needed to hear," Regina said softly. "I didn't realize that what we were doing had hurt you so much, but I know that it did."

"I was just hurt because of Trisha," Craig said. "Yvette said that it was OK to be upset, but I didn't really believe her. She and Andrew have been trying since it happened to get me to talk about it, but I wouldn't."

"You know, after you left, the hospital called," Regina said softly.

"They did. What did they want?"

"They said that Brad is going to recover, but that he will be checked into a rehabilitation clinic for drug dependency," Regina said softly. "You were right about him all along, Craig, and neither your father nor myself wanted to admit that that boy had problems. His parents were over here to apologize earlier and I really didn't know what to say to them. I'm not angry with them, but…"

"You're angry with Brad?" Craig asked.

"Yes, I guess I am," Regina said softly. "I figure when your father comes home from work, we will decide what we will do with this situation, but I don't think I will be able to look that boy in the eyes without being reminded of what we lost."

Craig nodded numbly, but reached out to embrace his mother. "I'm sorry, Mom," he said softly. "I shouldn't have gotten so angry, but I didn't really know what to do, I've felt so lost, and then Trisha died and I felt even more alone in all of this."

Regina nodded. "I should be apologizing to you, I had no idea what we were doing to you. But, I'll tell you what, though, if you really want to quit the band, I won't stop you and I'll make sure your father doesn't either."

"Thanks Mom," he said smiling weakly. "I don't think I will quit, but…" he turned back towards Yvette who was standing alone some three feet away from them. "I could use some pointers, you remember how to march, don't you?"

"I'll do my best," she smiled weakly.

*****

Three days later, Craig and Yvette met at the practice field and she began to help him work on his marching. "OK, let's give it a try," she said smiling weakly as she remembered the days back when she was in the high school band. She began to clap her hands as she shouted to the young man. "Mark Time Mark…and one and two and three and four…step off, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right…stop."

"How was that?" He asked.

"Try again, this time allow yourself to count out loud as you keep the rhythm," she said. "You get the steps down, and then you'll manage to play, but the key to it is always remembering that the rhythm of the music should determine the speed in which you march."

He smiled broadly after he had tried the steps she suggested and managed to execute them successfully.

"Good job," she smiled at him. "But let me ask you something, isn't this more fun when you feel you want to do it, rather than feeling that you have to do it out of obligation?"

"Yeah it is, I think I really could grow to like this stuff," he said smiling weakly at her.

"OK, let's give it another try." As before she began to clap her hands, and she counted him off, as he marched across the field, she smiled. He was really getting it, now that he didn't seem so afraid of it; he was allowing himself to show the rest of the world that he could really enjoy this and also get something out of it.

In the distance Andrew appeared and was watching, and Yvette glanced over and flashed him a smile as she gave him the thumbs up sign. With that the angel disappeared and the young woman could see a dove flying overhead and disappearing in the distance.

Three Years Later

As the Wilkins High School band took the field for the final football game of the season, Yvette and her husband sat in the stands together and watched. She smiled as she could smell the familiar odors of popcorn and cold drinks or as she heard the sounds of the band as they were getting up off the bleachers to take to the field for their halftime show. "This is my favorite part of this whole thing," she said to her husband, as three people came and sat down directly behind her.

Unaware of whom it was behind her, Yvette continued to listen as the announcer's voice could be heard throughout the stadium. "The Wilkins High School Band is under the direction of Harold McDonald the drum majors are Craig Peters and Missy Summer"

"Did he just say, Craig Peters?" Yvette asked.

"Yes, that's what he said," the voice of the man emerged causing her to look around and see that Andrew, Tess, and Monica were now seated behind them.

"Andrew, what are you guys doing here?" Yvette stood up and hugged him. To Tess and Monica, she offered a warm smile.

"Craig's last football game," Andrew said smiling. "Just watch."

She turned around and began to watch the presentation and immediately she was caught up with memories. Contrary to all the hard times she had had while in band, she probably wouldn't have changed those four years for anything in the world. As she watched the band march the program, her eyes were constantly on the young man standing on the podium directing them. "Do you think he would want to see me?" She turned around to ask Andrew.

"I think he would, you're the reason he's there," Andrew said softly.

Twenty minutes later, Yvette could see that the band had now returned to their seats, and she looked at Sven. "I'll be right back," she said smiling at him and then at the three angels.

Moments later, she had reached the railing which was right next to where the band was seated. "Craig," she called out.

When the boy didn't turn around, three of the young band members smiled weakly at her and then turned back towards where Craig was standing and they called his name causing him to turn around. "Yvette?"

She nodded and smiled weakly at him. "Hi, Craig."

"Listen, you've got to come down and say 'hi' properly," he said and she nodded and went up the stairs and came down through the middle of the band and he wrapped her in a big bear hug. "Hey Band!" He shouted out as soon as their embrace loosened.

"Hey What?" Came the shouted back response.

"This is Yvette!" He shouted once again.

"Hi Yvette!" the screamed response was almost deafening.

"Hi," she smiled.

"She plays the…uh," He shouted, but immediately looked at her. "Quick you never told me what instrument you played," He smiled sheepishly.

"Flute," she replied and once he repeated it, all the flutists screamed their approval.

"She's a…" he sighed deeply when he realized that he couldn't give her a classification because she was no longer in high school. "She's a…an angel," Craig shouted, but the roar of the students was even louder than before.

After things quieted down somewhat, she looked at him. "Craig, I'm no angel, I'm just a friend," she said, but her face flushed and she could feel the tears in her eyes as her friend once more embraced her.

"You see that girl over there?" He whispered while still holding her in his arms.

"You mean the other drum major?" Yvette asked.

"She's Brad's little sister, and…she's my girlfriend," Craig said smiling broadly.

"What happened to Brad?"

"He made it through all his physical therapy. Then when he got through rehab, he started working with messed up kids over at the community center," Craig said. "I think everyone here is really going to be OK, and through Missy, I've learned to forgive him for what happened with Trisha."

Yvette smiled. "I'm really glad that everything worked out. You know, you really make a great drum major."

"And you make a great friend, not to mention a very patient one, and as far as I know, your friendship has been a bigger honor to me than what I do here," he said and handed her a small round metal object.

When she looked down at it, she nearly gasped when she realized that he had given her a small hand held compass. "It's to help you find your way just like you helped me to find mine."

With tears streaming down her face, she gave him one last hug, went up the stairs, and returned to her seat. When she got there, she realized that the angels had disappeared and Sven was looking at her with concern is his deep-set brown eyes.

"Are you OK?" He asked.

"I'm fine," she said softly.

"I thought you had gotten lost in all of those people up there," he said.

She held up the compass and showed it to him, "no, honey, I don't think I will ever lose my way again."

As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around him and they glanced skyward. Overheard a white dove was cooing happily and as it disappeared, the band began to play 'Tequila' and she and Sven stood up and began to dance.

The end

*******

Dear Reader,

All places in this story are fictional, but the characters of Sven and Yvette are real people, they are my husband and I. I have written a number of stories with my personality in them, but never have written a story with me as one of the characters and this proved to be a lot of fun, especially when I could hug Andrew. <g>

In case anyone is wondering, yes I really was in band in high school, and though I didn't like it so much at the time I experienced it, I really am glad that I stuck with it for the four years that I did. As the inspiration for this story came after I had watched one of our old marching band videos, I wanted to dedicate this story in memory of Mr. Cunningham, the band director from my old Alma Mater. 'Mr. C', as we all called him, was a very talented musician, a dedicated band director, a creative marching program designer, and someone I respected. The last time I saw him, it was a year after I had graduated from high school and he still called me by name even though he had over 150 other students to remember. This truly meant a lot to me; but less than two years later, he was no longer with us, he had died of illness, but his memory does live on, if in no other way but through those he inspired.

God bless,

Yvette Jessen

August 10, 2001

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