“You think I’ll get another demerit? ‘Cuz one more demerit and. . .” Zing pointed down. “I get demoted.”
Nell’s head felt as if it were going to explode. She sputtered questions as fast as she could think of them. “Demoted? Your fault? What’s going on here? Where am I?” Then her eyes widened. She looked at Zing. Then at Annabelle. Then at the marshmallows, which she now thought looked a lot like clouds. “Am I in heaven? Am I dead? Are you angels?”
But before Nell’s questions could be answered, a big, booming voice said, “What the hell is going on here?!”
“Uh-oh,” Zing said. “I’m in trouble now.”
“Who was that?” Nell asked in a whisper. “Was that. . . God?”
“That’s our boss,” Annabelle said. “Her name is Bertha.”
At that moment, Nell saw a faraway figure striding out of the gates and coming toward them. The figure was a woman. A big, black woman with an imposing Afro. She was also wearing a white toga and gold Crocs. She had a frown on her face.
“That’s Bertha?” Nell whispered.
“Yep,” Zing said. “And she’s not happy.”
“Why? What did I do?” Nell asked.
“It’s not you,” Zing said. “It’s me. You see, I’m your guardian angel. And I was supposed to save you from that manhole.”
“You’re my guardian angel?” Nell asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you. I’m dreaming or something. This can’t really be happening. Angels don’t wear Crocs.”
Zing laughed. “All angels wear Crocs. Who do you think invented them?”
Bertha strode up to them and commanded, “Stop talking! You know it’s against the rules to converse with your human.”
Zing and Annabelle straightened their backs and saluted Bertha.
Nell looked up at Bertha. She was big – at least six feet tall. “Listen,” Nell sputtered. “Can I wake up now? I’d really like to wake up now. I want to go home.”
Bertha dismissed Nell with a wave of her hand, saying, “You. Human. Stay here.” She looked menacingly at Zing and Annabelle. “You two. May I have a word with you over here?”
Zing and Annabelle followed Bertha over to another cloud out of Nell’s earshot. Nell watched as Bertha shook her fist at Zing and appeared to be shouting.
They can’t be angels, Nell thought as she watched them argue. They don’t have wings or halos. And where are the harps?
That was the last thought Nell had before she was falling again. Falling, falling, falling. . .
***
When she landed, Nell opened one eye just a tiny bit. She saw Zing and Annabelle sitting in a corner of a white room. She was lying in bed. Her head felt huge. And, boy oh boy, did she have a headache.
She listened as Annabelle and Zing talked to each other in low tones:
“You can’t stay,” Annabelle hissed.
“I have to. Look at her,” Zing said, pointing at Nell. “I can’t leave her now.”
Nell quickly closed her eyes so they wouldn’t know she was awake.
“This is my fault,” Zing continued. “If I’d been paying attention she wouldn’t be in the hospital with a big bandage around her head. Did you know they shaved a part of her head to put in the stitches? I’m responsible for that baldness as well.”
“Hair loss is the least of your concerns.” Annabelle sat down heavily in the plastic hospital chair. “Remember Bertha is furious with you.”
“I don’t care about Bertha. She can be as mad as she wants. If I’d been paying attention like I was supposed to, Nell Parker would be making the world’s best donuts with a full head of hair.” Zing lowered her head and sniffled.
Annabelle sighed and studied her large wristwatch. “Well, you have exactly twenty-three hours, fifteen minutes, and seven seconds before you have to be back at HQ.”
“Or what?” Zing said, “I turn into a large, round, orange-colored fruit?”
“It’s called a pumpkin. No pumpkins are involved. You know what happens and you don’t want that.”
“What are you talking about?” Zing asked.
Annabelle gaped at her. “You’ve never read The Guardian Angel’s Handbook?”
Zing shook her head. “I’m not much of a reader. I figure if the book’s any good, it’ll be made into a movie.”
Annabelle said sarcastically, “You never cease to amaze me.”
“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do—amaze people?” Zing glanced over at Nell and said, “In times of crisis.”