“Are you Thomas Avery Sade?”
“Yes,” he replied, “You’re an angel?”
“Is there something wrong, Tom?” Thomas’ teacher interrupted.
“No,” Thomas replied.
“Could you come outside of the classroom, please?” the angel continued. “We need to talk.”
Thomas paused, and then raised his hand. He smirked at the idea of an angel contacting him; he wasn’t the most religious teenager.
“Yes, Thomas?” his teacher said, pausing her lesson. The whole class turned to look at him.
“My stomach hurts; may I be excused?” he said flatly, not even bothering to fake a stomach-ache. His teacher was underpaid, overworked and most of all hated children. She would take any excuse to get rid of a kid. Especially a kid that creeped her out as much as Thomas did.
As expected, the teacher waved her hand to shoo him. Thomas stood up and then walked out the room.
In the hallway, he paused for a second just to hear that satisfying slide, click of the door closing. Then he made his way to the library, the only deserted place in school.

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