Coffeehouse Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

sign didn't light up.
    What if he had a knife in that satchel of his? I could be in real danger.
    A school bus drove past, filled with swim teamers on their way to a meet. Vincent smiled at me from a window, then froze in mid-wave when he noticed the guy from the alley. Would Vincent be the last witness to see me alive?
    The guy was still staring.
    "If you follow me any more, I'm going to call the police." I punched the button again.
    WALK. Pumping my arms, I crossed that road at record speed. If he tried anything, I'd flag down a passing car and scream "HELP!" When I reached the sidewalk, I turned to warn him again, but he wasn't there.
    He had disappeared.
    Adjusting my backpack, I started down the steep hill, glad to have gotten rid of him.
    He had issues.
    A cold breeze carried the bay's salty scent up the hill. Winter came to Nordby in October and hung around until April. Week after week of clouds and wind was the norm. I shoved my hands into my pockets. Had that been the shadow of a ponytail next to Vincent on the school bus? What was wrong with me? Why was I worried about Heidi and Vincent? They had the swim team in common, that was it. Just the swim team.
    The nice thing about the Nordby High Swim Team was that most anyone could join.
    You didn't have to be a record-breaker. All you had to do was swim four lengths of the pool without resting in between and without any kind of flotation device. So, if you could do that, you were in. But if you got a side cramp and sank like a rock after the second lap, like I had, then you were out--even if you had bought a brand-new pair of goggles and a subscription to Swim Magazine because you had hoped that swimming would be your thing.
    "Hello." The guy from the alley was sitting on a bus bench just up ahead. When had he passed me? "I just want to make it perfectly clear that I'm not following you. I'm just resting a spell." His long brown hair danced across his shoulders as the breeze kicked up. "You didn't give me the opportunity to explain."
    My inner voice screamed, "Run! He's a freak. Get away from him." If I had listened to that inner voice I would have saved myself a whole lot of trouble, that's for sure. But heeding one's inner voice requires confidence, which I totally lacked. Fortunately an older man sat on the bench, reading a newspaper while waiting for the bus, so I felt safe--for the moment.
    "How do you know my name?"
    "It's part of my job." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small black book. It was titled, The Law. "I'm afraid I'm not handling this well. You see, I've not been in this situation for a rather long time. I usually just deliver messages."
    "You're a messenger?" I hadn't heard of any messenger services in Nordby.
    "That's correct." He showed me the side of his satchel. Golden letters read: Messenger Service.
    I decided that he was probably around my age, maybe a year older. Where did he go to school? Had he escaped from a mental institution? I looked at my watch. "I've got to get to work."
    "Wait." He leaned forward. "Just listen." He opened the black book and read. " 'If it doth come to pass that during the course of thy travels, an unsolicited, unselfish act of kindness is bestowed upon thee, then thou must reward the act by granting to the bestower that which the bestower most desires.' " He placed the open book on his lap.
    The pages were blank. "I must obey what is written in this book."
    The man with the newspaper looked at the blank book, then scooted away to the far edge of the bench. "RUN!" screamed my inner voice.
    If I ran, he'd probably follow. But if I let him reward me, then this crazy game might end. He could go on his crazy, freaky way and I could get to work. "It was just a few old pastries," I said nicely. "They weren't worth much. You can give me that pencil and we'll call it even." I pointed to a pencil that stuck out from one of his kilt pockets.
    He narrowed his eyes at me, then continued to fake read from his book. " 'Be