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school and did my assignments. I helped out at the nursery. I had a LOT of early nights. Oh, and one time Lola and I went shopping.
    Actually that was weird. I almost bought heaps of things. Like, I almost bought a bag. Ohh, heavenly bags are just divine. This one had a really subtle camouflage design, but was way more girly than that sounds. Inside were all these cool little pockets, making it ideal for field trips. Then, with a strange little pang, I remembered there wouldn’t be any more field trips, and quickly put the bag back on the display.
    Know what I bought in the end? One measly CD! When I got it back to my room, the guy had given me a CD of traditional Japanese harp music by mistake!
    The Universe was setting me up, big time, but I didn’t notice.
    I felt really weird that week, too, in a way that’s hard to describe; as if part of me was listening out for sounds or voices just beyond my normal range. It made me feel v. slightly deranged.
    It’s a good thing you’re not going to be an agent, Melanie, I thought gloomily. When it comes to promoting Peace on Earth, a nutty angel is not your first choice of personnel.
    I’m embarrassed to tell you that I still hadn’t told my mates about my decision. They knew something was off, obviously. They’re my mates. I think maybe they didn’t like to hassle me.
    That night Lola and I had arranged to hook up. I’d mentioned that Indigo had recommended FEATHERS, and she was keen to check it out. She turned up looking completely angelicious in a gauzy fairy dress with clumpy boots, that shouldn’t go, but actually totally did!
    Me? I was wrapped in a glamorous Angel Academy towel. Water dripped pathetically from my hair. “I’m late, aren’t I?” I said guiltily.
    Lola gave me the look we call her La Sanchez look. “This is getting to be a habit, angel girl. Being late, leaving early, cancelling at the last minute.”
    “I’m really sorry, Lollie. I just got, you know, held up.”
    “Yeah, in your bathroom,” she said in a sour voice.
    I desperately tried to fake some party sparkle. “No, I swear, I’ve been looking forward to this for days!”
    “Oh, I know.” she said insincerely. “What’s that B-thing you’re always saying? The best buzz about being an angel, is boogying with buddies who just saved your booty’? Funny,” she added. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say that in a while.”
    She knows , I thought.
    I took a shaky breath. “I really didn’t mean to tell you like this, but I don’t think I’m actually cut out to be that kind of angel.”
    I’d like to tell you that my soul-mate was v.v. understanding.
    She wasn’t. She was unbelievably hurt, and when Lola feels hurt she always has to hide it by blowing her top. We had a hugely distressing conversation, in which I never once managed to say how I really felt. It was only after Lola had stormed out, that I realised what I should have said. “I can’t be your kind of angel, because I can’t bear to see anyone get hurt EVER, like the PODS hurt you in Jamaica.” Now it was too late.
    This wasn’t the first time we’d had a big fight. But that night it truly felt as if it was the last.
    I was so upset that I actually did what they tell you in advice columns. I lit a LOT of scented candles, ran a hot bath, squirted in my fave rose bath essence, and climbed in for a good cry.
    I’d deliberately put my stereo on continuous play. Unfortunately I’d left the Japanese harp CD in. I was up to my ears in bubbles by the time I realised, so I just let the atmospheric sounds wash over me. Actually it was kind of soothing, so when I went to bed, I left it on; and fell asleep with Japanese harps plinking in my ear.
    When the phone rang I was so deeply asleep I couldn’t find the handset for ages, then when I did pick it up I was still so groggy that I immediately dropped it again. “Melanie speaking,” I mumbled. “Oh, hi, Michael! I thought you were away.”
    “I was,” said the