Angel Eyes

Schoolyard Mystery

“Angel Eyes”

She lived in an old two-story house on a dirt road on the edge of town.

We all laughed behind her back, whenever she passed by.

She walked to her first day at the new school with her older brother Calvin, while everyone else took the bus. And as the bus went by, the girls giggled and the boys pointed at the house that always seemed to be crying out for a new coat of paint.

The garage sagged and seemed to prop itself up on will alone. In the back yard was a garden, where one of her three brothers or two sisters, were said to be seen weeding, planting, or picking.

There was a rumor that there was something planted in that garden, near the blueberry bush, but exactly what was never made clear.
They all wore hats while they worked. They all also seemed deaf to the cat-calls that came from the bus window, as it sped by.

All in all, it was a mysterious family that kept to themselves. It was also said that there were hidden secrets within that house, but nothing seemed to bother them.

We called her Angel Eyes at school, because that was a whole lot easier than saying Angelina. It became easier because she just refused to answer to Angelina, so my two other friends, Marian and Francesca, just shortened it up to that name.

And the more we watched her, the more fascinated we became.

She loved insects, snakes, and worms. Our teacher did not find it amusing when she brought in all three, in a shoebox for science class. Angel Eyes had us all scrambling, climbing up on to our desks as she managed to pick up the runaway ant, coax the snake to coil up around a stick, and lifted up the worm with two fingers, and then slid it back into a jar filled with dirt.

On the first day of school, she sat at the back of the class. She was a slender girl with hair that always seemed a shade lighter, when the sun that streamed through the window, caught it just right.

And she had a way about her.

When puzzled by a math problem on the blackboard, Angel Eyes would wrinkle her small nose, and with thumb and forefinger, gently push her coal-black glasses back into place.

However, when called on that day, that fateful day, she always had the right answer, speaking in her sing-song voice. And with all of that, Angel Eyes was just an average student. She was that kind of girl who could easily get lost in a crowd.

But then, there was that moment in the playground, when Angelina, also known as “Angie,” earned her nickname, “Angel Eyes”.

A boy lost his grip on the monkey bars, landing hard, flat on his back. A loud wheezing sound came gurgling out of his mouth. He lay on the ground helpless, motionless. The other children quickly surged around him, like moths drawn to an open flame.

Then Angel Eyes stepped through the playground crowd. Placing her left hand on his chest, with her right hand on top, she began pressing down hard. Seconds later, the boy’s eyes blinked open, and he was breathing normally.

And before the young, first-year teacher arrived, Angel Eyes had already helped him back up on his feet.

“Where did she go?” asked the teacher, looking around frantically.

“I don’t know,” said the boy, brushing playground dirt off. “But when she looked down on me,” he said, with his eyes filled with wonder, “there was a bright light all around her, like she was an angel or something.”

“Matthew Kurtz,” said the teacher, sounding annoyed, “are you telling one of your tall tales again? I want the truth now, where did she go?”

“Who?” he asked. “Angel Eyes?” “I think I heard her saying that she was going home now. “And then she said to me, in a real, low quiet voice, “that it was her time to go, to leave.”

The children giggled, with the new name ‘Angel Eyes’ repeated amongst themselves in the crowd.

“Matthew, that’s enough!” his teacher said, gathering the children, leading the way back to the classroom. “I don’t want you calling her by that name again. Do you understand?”

“Sorry, Ms. Pearson. Then what is her real name?” he asked, walking carefully now.

The next day, Ms. Pearson went to the principal’s office.

“No one at this school,” he said, folding his hands, while taking off his glasses, “is registered here with a first name of ‘Angel’.”
“Also,” said the principal, looking over a stack of paperwork, “when that girl does return, from wherever she wandered off to, I will get to the bottom of this.”

The following day, Angel Eyes failed to appear.

“Where is she, Ms. Pearson?” asked the shy little girl in the front row. “Where is Angel Eyes?”

“I don’t know Karen, “said her teacher, with an edge in her voice. “I’m sure Angelina will be in tomorrow. Now class, let’s begin by reviewing yesterday’s math homework.”

But when Angel Eyes went missing for the rest of the school week, Ms. Pearson gave herself her own homework assignment.

“I just want to find out where she lives,” she said to the suspicious clerk in the school’s front office. “Since I have yet to meet her parents,” Ms. Pearson said in a patient tone, “I’d like to learn a little bit about her, that’s all.”

The clerk didn’t look up from her computer. “There’s doesn’t seem to be a number anywhere,” she said finally.

“Oh, well thank you for looking.”

“But wait, that’s odd,” she said, digging deeper into another program, “I do have a home street address, if that’s any help.”

“I’ll take it,” Karen said, taking out her phone.

“110 Eternity Lane.”

Telling no one, Ms. Pearson took a drive after school.

Entering the address into her phone, directions already told her that the address was well beyond the school district limits.
And as she drove, she found herself leaving the city limits. She was surrounded by new construction. An hour and forty-five minutes later, her phone told her that she was at 110 Eternity Lane.

On top of a primitive, wooden pole, sat an unsteady metal mailbox, and with printed black letters, read “110 Eternity Lane”.

Beyond the mailbox stood an empty lot.

As if on cue, a strong wind blew. And as it blew, it seemed to ripple through the long, tall blades of grass that nearly covered the abandoned cement grey foundation, of where a house once stood.

The next day, she reported her findings to the principal.

“These kids today,” he said, turning away from his computer, “they’ve got quite the imagination, don’t they?”

“This Angelina, who doesn’t seem to have a last name, an oversight on our part. She’ll show up in a day or two. It’s probably some family thing, it always is. When she returns, then, I’m sure, we’ll get the full story.”

“Say, while you’re here,” he continued, “your class picture, taken on the first day of school, is here. You’ll find it in your mailbox.”

Opening up the 8 x 10 manila envelope, she felt a sudden ice- cold chill running up the back of her spine.

At first glance, it looked like your normal class picture, full of confident, smiling kids. Then her eyes went to the end, in the back row, on the left- hand side. The girl standing there, her face was out of focus, a blur. All of the other children stood side by side, identified, their images looking back at the camera, crystal clear.

All except for a girl named Angelina, a girl also known as Angel Eyes.

“Maybe she was an angel,” Ms. Pearson whispered to herself, as the children filed back into her classroom from lunch.

“Or maybe,” she said, speaking now to herself, as the students took to their seats, “she was a ghost.”

“What did you say, Ms. Pearson?” asked the nosy girl in the front row. Oh no, did I say that out loud?

“I said that it’s time that we get back to work,” she said, closing up the envelope, sliding it back into the top upper side drawer.

Eight months later, cleaning out her desk, at the end of the school year, she looked at it again. This time, Angel Eyes had completely disappeared, leaving a blank space between her classmates.

She was never seen or heard from again.

And what became of 110 Eternity Lane?

Then, in order to put an end to the school rumor, the principal himself drove out to the listed address.

By now, the mailbox had disappeared, and what remained was the same empty lot.


THE END