Pariah

Being a tomboy did little to protect Lisa from bullying at school.
In fact, it probably made it worse, opening her up to abuse from the
boys she envied as well as the girls she despised. It was a small
school and word had soon spread that Lisa was an outcast, unwelcome
among the ranks of the properly adjusted. Even the other untouchables,
splintered into their own bitter factions, wanted nothing to do with
her. She was far too unpredictable for them to allow into their already
fragile lives.

If there was one event that had set her apart from the others, it was
the death of her father. She had assumed her infant school popularity
would continue into junior school, and she would maintain her place in
the upper echelons. But, only weeks into the first term, she suddenly
lost the one thing that had held it all together. Within forty eight
hours of hearing the news, she was sent back to school. Her classmates
ran around the playground, laughing and sneering and announcing her
loss to the world. The teachers were no help at all. Lazy and lacking
in empathy, they left the kids to it, and Lisa had never forgiven
them.

They gave her the chance to stand up in class and read out a prayer
that she'd written in the hope of conveying her grief. But the
playground taunts had broken her and, as much as she wanted her peers
to understand, she couldn't risk baring her soul to them.

In just a few days, Lisa lost all respect for the authority she'd
always obeyed and abandoned the God she'd always loved. Both, she
believed, had betrayed her, forcing her into an early maturity. It was
up to her to support her mother, to help with her oblivious younger
brother, and to shield them both from the ferocity of her own bitter
grief.

Almost inevitably, it seems, the strain proved too much. Within the
year, she was hauled up in front of the headmaster for playground
violence. He might even have thought he was helping, when he almost
reduced her to tears by trawling through the loss of her father.
Betrayed once more, by both authority and her own emotions, she
hardened further still.

As junior school passed by, she grew stronger and faster. She could
finally outrun the cruel teases she'd chased in vain only a couple of
years before. She was a force to be feared, and everyone left her well
alone - for a time.

But then the teasing began again.

When puberty dawned, Lisa's hardiness didn't make her immune. Along
with a handful of others, she was cursed with an early introduction to
womanhood. And she was abused from all sides. While the boys grew
increasingly lecherous, the girls who were still prepubescent sniped at
her precociousness, and her fellow early developers chided her for
rejecting her budding femininity.

By now, though, her aggression was far less explicit. She'd stopped
picking fights and was cultivating her role as a loner. But inside, she
was boiling with venom. In her vengeful mind's eye, she was summoning
vicious demons from the pits of Hell to tear her tormentors
apart.

It was in the fourth year that her dreams appeared to come true. A new
boy, recently relocated from Australia, joined the school at the start
of the year. He latched on to Lisa almost immediately, despite her
attempts to drive him away. He, too, had lost his father and, in time,
Lisa found herself coming to like him. By Christmas they were close
friends, and by January the teasing had lessened considerably.

It was during that month, the coldest on record, that Lisa learnt the
truth about Stephen, her new-found friend. They were playing on the
surface of a frozen lake, and Lisa was mocking Stephen's timid
insistence that what they were doing was dangerous. And suddenly,
without any warning at all, his fears were realised. As Lisa skated
across the centre of the lake, the ice cracked open and she toppled
into the freezing cold water. Within seconds, she was sucked under the
impenetrable ceiling of ice. And as she hammered in vain with her
fists, she could see Stephen's panic-stricken face peering down at
her.

It was as she was letting out the last of the air in her lungs, that
her tomb was torn open and she was hoisted to safety. It was Stephen
who rescued her, only he didn't look quite like Stephen. He seemed far
larger, almost terrifying had he not been saving her life. But she
didn't have time to think about it. As soon as she knew she was safe,
she lost consciousness.

She was at home in bed when she awoke, exempt from school for the rest
of the week so they could watch her for signs of pneumonia. Stephen was
there, too, refusing to leave her side until she was able to return to
school. Her mother and the headmaster let him stay, as a reward for
saving Lisa's life, although no one was surehow he'd done it. There was
no word from Stephen's parents, but for some reason no one found this
strange.

The week was uneventful. Stephen smothered her with doting attention.
He wouldn't let her do anything for herself, and forced her to stay
wrapped up in bed, surrounded by everything she might possibly want or
need. She tried several times to embarrass him out of being so
mothering, but he wouldn't be diverted from his mission. "What are you?
My guardian angel? My fairy godmother?" she would groan at him. But he
would only grin, and fix her another mug of hot milk and honey, while
her mother looked on in amusement.

They went back to school as celebrities. Nevertheless, though they were
mentioned in the morning assembly - along with the often-repeated
warning not to play on ice "no matter how safe it seems" - they were no
more popular than before.

Within a few days, Lisa was in trouble again, thanks to her archrival
Jules Harrigan. Jules was a wide-nosed grubby child of considerable
size for his age. While Mr King was writing sums on the board, Jules
snatched Lisa's pencil case from her desk. Then he took out the
matching eraser and returned the case with an evil glint in his eye. A
moment later, he launched the rubber at Mr King's balding head and
looked down at his open text book.

Mr King span round and glared at them. He picked up the rubber and
quickly made the link with Lisa's pencil case. He took a deep breath
and fired a torrent of chastisements across the classroom. Lisa opened
her mouth to declare her innocence, but Stephen was on his feet and
protesting before she'd managed to speak.

"I might have known you'd stick up for her," Mr King scowled. "So who
are the two of you going to blame for this insolence?"

"Nobody, sir. It was me," Stephen told him.

"And why, pray, did you decide to throw this&;#8230;
object&;#8230; at me?"

"Don't know, sir. Just seemed the right thing to do at the time,"
Stephen said with nothing but sheer sincerity.

Mr King sent him straight to the headmaster, who decided his
punishment. Stephen was to give up his lunch breaks and an hour after
school for the whole of the following week so he could help the
caretaker clean the various buildings. Jules seemed happy enough with
his result to give Lisa a pretty wide berth while Stephen was away. But
in Lisa's fevered imagination, Jules spent the week at the mercy of her
terrible demons.

She waited every day after school for Stephen friend to finish
detention. And, when his duties were done, they'd head into the woods
to play. Be it Cowboys and Indians, Knights of the Round Table or Space
Marines, they'd always be comrades in arms. At Lisa's hands, their
enemies would die hideous, lingering deaths, while Stephen sent them
off quietly with his pistol, tomahawk, sword or phaser. And every game
ended the same, with Lisa coming to Stephen's rescue, wielding some
weapon of awesome destruction.

It was on a day like this, that they ran into trouble once more.

Like all the other kids, Lisa had always assumed that the wild dogs of
the forest were a myth, dreamt up by parents to keep their children
away from the best playground of all. But the dogs were real, very
real, and the harsh winter had left them hungry and desperate. In their
search for food, the packs had strayed closer to the edge of the
forest, and as Lisa and Stephen wandered deeper with each passing day
their second brush with death became almost inevitable .

The sun was already dangerously low in the trees, when they stumbled
across the pack. The two friends always came well-prepared, and they'd
been making their way by torchlight. The pale beams shone ahead of them
into the snow-filled clearing. They lit the dogs like spotlights as
they tore at the remains of a fox. There clearly wasn't enough to go
round, and they fighting each other for scraps. But the torchlight drew
their attention and they turned to fresh prey. Sniffing the air, they
edged their way forwards, their eyes glinting hungrily in the
glare..

Lisa was frozen to the spot. She knew that, if they ran, the dogs would
chase them, and there was no way they could make it to safety. But the
way the blood-spattered jaws snapped and slavered in the torchlight
filled her with terror. How could she and Stephen stand and fight? The
dogs were mad with hunger and, even with sticks, they couldn't hold
them off for long. And there was no point climbing a tree and waiting
for the dogs to leave. They'd probably be up there all night, and might
easily freeze to death.

She looked at Stephen and began to cry, her walking-stick-cum-longsword
slipping from her woollen grasp. The dogs seemed to sense her loss of
nerve and they stepped even closer, their fox long forgotten.

Stephen leaned over and placed his hand on Lisa's cheek where a tear
lay ready to fall. "Here," he said, handing her his own gnarled stick.
"You hold onto this. I'll get rid of these mangy old dogs."

And then he strode into the clearing. Lisa could only watch in terror,
the tears continuing to roll down her face. It was dark now. The sun
had set and the forest was black beyond the clearing, forming a stage.
And on it, the pack was closing in on her friend.

It was as the first dog launched itself at him, that Stephen suddenly
vanished. In his place was a pillar of blazing fire, a billowing
cylinder over ten feet tall and at least a yard across. The leaping dog
was flung, yelping, at the rest of the pack and the whimpering
creatures botled as one from the clearing.

All that remained was an unnaturally serious Stephen, stomping his way
back to Lisa and avoiding her slack-jawed gaze. He passed her, lifting
her fallen stick in lieu of his own, and continued walking. "We'd
better get back. It's late," was all he said.

But that wasn't all that befell them that cold, wintry evening. Stephen
was soon laughing and joking again, leaving Lisa feeling too awkward to
ask even one of her many questions. They slowed to their usual homeward
pace, and that was why things turned out as they did.

No sooner were they out of the woods than they found themselves faced
with a gang of much older boys. Their leader was Danny Harrigan, Jules'
older and by all accounts nastier brother. While the others stood there
menacingly, puffing on cigarettes and guzzling from cans of Special
Brew, Danny did the talking.

"So, what have we got here, then? Two young lovers out for a bit of
nookie in the woods, eh?"

Lisa and Stephen glanced at each awkwardly, and the gang's threat faded
as for the first time they saw their friendship from a very different
perspective. Danny lost patience.

"Don't just gaze into each other's eyes like star-struck morons. You'd
better have something pretty good to pay the toll with, or you'll get a
sound thrashing from the boys here."

The Boys smiled at the promise of action.

"You can stick your toll where your boyfriend sticks his fingers, Danny
Harrigan," Lisa shouted, proud of her scathing wit and confident that
Stephen would protect them. "We pay no toll to no man."

Danny Harrigan smacked her to the ground with one heavy fist. Lisa was
no weakling, but Danny was a powerful lad, fourteen years old and
already a force to be reckoned with. Nobody insulted Danny
Harrigan.

Lisa lay in the slushy remains of the snow, wiping the first trickle of
blood from her nose. She was waiting for the tower of fire, or for
Stephen to become something else that would reduce Danny Harrigan to
jelly.

But Stephen did nothing of the sort.

"Wait," he said, when Danny leaned down to drag Lisa up off the ground.
Then he stepped forward and held out his gold watch in tribute. The
watch she'd never seen him without; the watch his father had left him -
the only thing his father had left him.

Danny took the watch, then he unstrapped his own and tossed it to one
of The Boys. "A perfect fit," he declared. "Rich pickings today, lads.
Rich pickings indeed."

He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with match and
cupped hand.

"This is for you," he mumbled and tossed the matchbox at Stephen. "And
this is for you," he laughed as he flicked the flaming match at
Lisa.

Lisa leaped up, determined to get Stephen's watch back. She was both
bewildered and furious that he'd failed to stand up for himself when
he'd been so quick to see off the dogs. She grabbed Danny between the
legs, and was about to give him a nasty squeeze when Stephen pulled her
away.

"Yeah, you'd better keep your missus under control, boy, or she'll get
the two of you in real trouble one day," Danny growled at them as he
adjusted his crotch. Then he turned and led The Boys away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Lisa screeched when Stephen finally
released her. "You could see off a pack of wild dogs, why not Danny
Harrigan and his gang?"

"The dogs were already scared," Stephen shrugged. "They were just cold
and hungry."

"They may have been scared, but they'd still have torn us apart," Lisa
snapped back at him. "And Danny Harrigan would have run through two
packs of dogs to get away from you, if you'd pulled that trick with the
fire."

Stephen looked embarrassed.

"What's going on, Stephen? Back with the dogs, I've no idea what you
did, but I know I didn't imagine it. It's like when you pulled me out
from under the ice. I'd have let that pass, if it wasn't for what
happened in the woods. How do you do it, Stephen, and why won't you do
it to stop the Harrigans making our lives a misery?"

"It's like you said before, I'm an angel," he said bluntly. There
wasn't the slightest hint of humour in his eyes, and said it as though
it was normal. But then she was already convinced. How else could she
explain what had happened?

"So what are you doing hanging around with me?" she asked him, not
unreasonably. "And does Danny Harrigan have some big bad angel who
scares you more than a pack of wild dogs?"

"I'm hanging around with you, Lisa, because you're special. And, no,
Danny Harrigan doesn't have any angels or devils in his gang - not in
the literal sense, anyway. Dogs are scared of fire, so I showed them
fire. They'll have forgotten what they saw in no time. They might be
more wary of children in future, but that's not such a bad thing. But,
those boys, to see what the dogs saw could easily have sent them mad.
Dogs don't think about whether things like that are meant to happen,
but people do and their whole world would have been turned upside down
by it. Now, they may be bullies but for now they're still only boys.
There's plenty of time for them to change, and maybe they will. But,
even if they don't, it wouldn't have improved things here and now if
they wound up locked in an asylum."

"But they hit me," Lisa objected. "One day they could wind up really
hurting someone. Surely it would be better that a bunch of bullies were
locked in a loony bin, than some innocent person found themselves in
hospital?"

"I don't deal with 'what if's and 'maybe's, Lisa," Stephen frowned.
"Only what's really happening now, and even then only when it effects
you. I'm here to look after you, to make sure you don't come to any
harm. But while I'm doing so, I have to be sure I don't hurt anyone
else. I want to show you that brute force isn't necessary in these
situations and that, sometimes, it can only make matters worse."

"And why do I get all this attention?"

"As I said before, you're special. You have a certain power, so when
you called I had to come."

"What sort of power?" her ears pricked up.

Once more, Stephen glowed with embarrassment.

"Let's just say you have a certain talent for reshaping what's close at
hand."

She looked incredibly disappointed. "So, I'm going to be a sculptress
when I grow up, then?"

"I couldn't say exactly how things will turn out. After all, it's up to
you how you choose to use your talents - but you'll certainly be a
formative influence in some way or other."

"For someone who says he doesn't know anything about the future, you
certainly use the word 'certain' a lot," Lisa pointed out.

Stephen shrugged. Best leave the future, she thought to herself. After
all, she really didn't want to know. She'd always found it wonderfully
exciting to think that her whole life lay spread out before her but was
shrouded in a veil of mystery. True, it was annoying that someone else
might know what was coming, but then Stephen was special so she'd just
have to come to terms with it.

Besides, what was far more important now was that she had a power, a
special talent with which she could summon an angel.

"So you're not going to tell me what makes me special?" she pressed
him.

"Your different to a lot of other people. The way your brain's laid out
makes it easier for you to tune in to the world around you. This allows
you to effect it in ways most people can't."

"So I can do magic?"

"Do you think it's magic?"

"Well, you make it all sound quite normal. You even managed to make the
fact that my best friend is an angel seem normal."

"Isn't it?"

"It's not something that happens every day, is it?"

"It is to me," he said blankly.

"I suppose you're right," she agreed, "But you don't make it sound very
spiritual. I mean, you tell me it's my brain that gives me the power to
make angels my friends, and to do whatever else it is I'm supposed to
be able to do. You don't mention my soul."

"You don't believe in a soul. You told me that - when your dad died -
God, Heaven, souls, all of it, went out of the window."

"Yes, but so did angels. I don't... - didn't, believe in angels,
either."

"Well, I think finding out you're wrong about one thing of that
magnitude is probably enough for one day, don't you?"

"But what about God and the rest of it?" Lisa asked frustratedly.

"It's a matter of faith. That's the whole point."

"And angels are different?"

"No. You still have to decide for yourself whether I'm an angel or not.
You can't prove it."

"Okay. You're confusing me. Let's try something else. If I've got this
great power, how come I get you when what I really want to do to the
Harrigans of this world is punish them? You always let them off - you
even took the blame for Jules and gave Danny your watch."

"Actually, I took the blame for you, and what would an angel need a
watch for? I only had it, so I could give it to Danny to stop him
hurting you. Lisa, what you're talking about would only lead to all
kinds of trouble. I'm here with your best interests at heart. Only
someone with quite a different agenda would offer those
services."

"But that's the point. If I've got this&;#8230; power&;#8230;
you're talking about, surely I wouldn't need anybody to fight my
battles for me. That way I wouldn't owe anybody anything."

"But you don't owe me anything," the angel reassured her. "I'm your
friend. Friendship has nothing to do with debts."

"No," she said quietly. "I can't accept that. How can you be my friend
if you had to come when I called you. Surely that makes you my
slave."

"When I said I had to come, I meant it was something that needed doing.
The fact that you could call meant you had a certain gift. I came to
make sure you didn't misuse it, as much as to protect you from
harm."

"So you're not a guardian angel?"

"In the sense that you mean it, yes I am. I will do everything in my
power to protect you, but that doesn't mean I have to follow your
orders. I'm blessed with a little more knowledge of the ways of the
world than you are, and that helps me see when your desires might prove
dangerous to yourself or others."

"Well, I'm not happy with the arrangement," she snapped, turning and
walking away.

"I'm afraid that's just the way it has to be," he called after her.
Though she didn't see it, there was a dark frown on his face as he
watched the steam rising from the footprints she left in the
snow.

It was Sports Day, Lisa's last before she headed off to Secondary
School after the imminent summer holiday. One hundred metres was all
that separated her from the medal she was sure she'd take home. It
would be the perfect symbol of her victory over the kids who'd taunted
her for the past four years. In the autumn, she would be a small fish
in a big pond again, just as she'd been when her father died. Only this
time she'd be prepared. There'd be no one stronger or faster in the new
playground, no one to run rings around her, tormenting and teasing her.
She had a deep, brooding strength and she would use it to her
advantage. She'd be just who she wanted - maybe a loner, or maybe a new
Danny Harrigan. Whatever she chose, she would be in control this time,
no on else.

She snapped into focus at the sound of the starting pistol, and
launched herself onto the track. Legs furiously pumping, she sped
toward her goal. She was leading from the start, forcing the gap ever
wider with each long stride. Win, she told herself, and as always her
body obeyed. Ten metres, twenty metres: all thought of the future left
her; this was her crowning achievement. Thirty metres, forty metres:
she paid no attention to Stephen, whose presence she felt on the
sidelines. Fifty metres, sixty: with seconds to go, she was clearly the
leader. Seventy, eighty: the taste of victory, her own sweet vengeance,
filled her mouth.

A stone hit her clean in the eye. She staggered and stumbled, tripping
over her own quivering legs, and fell to the ground. The other runners
thundered past.

She looked up at the finish line to see the ribbon fall to someone
else. It didn't matter who; all that mattered was that it wasn't her.
Her eye began to swell and her knees to sting, and she turned to look
at the sidelines. And there he was, just a few feet away and grinning
from ear to ear as his friends chuckled beside him. Jules
Harrigan.

The rage welled up inside her and she rose to her feet, determined to
exact her revenge. But, before she could move, the school nurse was
bending down over her, asking if she was all right. She helped Lisa
onto her feet, and led her away for First Aid. And, as Lisa limped
away, she fixed her vicious eyes on Jules', and she nodded him a
promise that, this time, he was going to be punished.

It took nearly three hours to find him, but when she did he was with
his friends in the small recreation ground near the school. She
crouched behind a wall, her eye bandaged up and her knees still
stinging, and waited for him to make his way home.

Sure enough, at six o'clock, the group went their separate ways and
Jules made his own way home. She trailed him unnoticed as far as the
alley to the footbridge that led over the railway. The near side,
rimmed with high fences that were scarred with graffiti, was a place
that had filled her with dread as a child. It was a place where the
slightest sound could a lone walker's heart racing with fear.

It was there that she chose to confront him. Rearing up to her full
height, she called the boy's name. The voice wasn't hers; it was
something unearthly she'd been longing to use to teach her tormentor a
lesson. She was going to make an example of him. She'd give his brother
and all of their bullying kind a horrible and appropriate warning.
She'd make all them feel the terror they'd spent their lives instilling
in others.

She drew upon all that she'd taught herself in the months since she'd
spoken to Stephen. Then she summoned the power he'd been drawn to, and
forced her body to change. She had no idea whether the change was real
or just an illusion. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was the
fear in Harrigan's heart.

The boy turned to face her, his face already ashen. His breath caught
in his throat. He staggered backwards and fell on the steps, his jaw
shuddering and tears rolling freely down his cheeks. He whimpered
helplessly, and Lisa felt a smile stretch her lips as her malice fed on
his fear.

And then she lost control. The nightmare vision she had sculpted just
for Jules wavered and started to shrink. It deflated and her skin
became tight as her body sought its natural form. But was no failure of
her own. She'd known enough false starts to feel the difference. This
was something outside her. This was competition.

Jules drifted unconscious and lay limp on the steps of the bridge. Lisa
ignored him and looked around for her attacker. A few yards back down
the alley, a mass of creepers hung over the fence. Stephen slipped out
from behind them.

"I had a feeling it would be you," she sneered, her shape returned to
that of an eleven year old girl.

"Who else?" he smiled pleasantly. "I am your guardian angel."

"Seems to me that you've defected," she snorted.

"Not at all. I just don't see how scaring eleven-year-old boys is a
worthwhile use of your talents."

"He was only getting what was coming to him."

"And what was that?" Stephen asked, pushing past her and kneeling
beside the fallen boy.

"Just a bit of a scare. Nothing too serious."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Stephen's voice was grave and his expression
dark as he held Jules' limp wrist in his hand. "I think the shock was
too much for him."

Lisa's mouth hung open.

Stephen sighed. "He's dead, Lisa."

"What do you mean, he's dead?" she cried out. "I didn't touch
him."

"No, you didn't. And, to think, you were just warming up."

"Don't go blaming me," she insisted. "Why didn't you stop him firing
that stone at me if you were so concerned for his safety?"

"You have to learn to stand on your own two feet sometime, Lisa."

"Oh, come on. I was standing on my own two feet. That's why I was here
in the first place. And before you showed up I was doing just fine
looking out for Number One."

"Standing on your own two feet means being responsible for your
actions, not just looking out for your own interests," Stephen told
her. "You have a gift and it's up to you to use it wisely. You can't go
foisting responsibility onto others, just because things didn't work
out quite the way you'd planned."

"So where have you been all this time, while I've been working on this
gift you told me about? Why weren't you here to guide me and stop this
from happening?" There were tears in her eyes.

"There you go again," he said, shaking his head. "I wasn't here because
you drove me away. I wouldn't do things the way you wanted them done,
so you didn't want me around."

"Well, you should have been more persistent. What kind of a father are
you, anyway?"

"Lisa!" His tone was shocked. "I never claimed to be anything of the
sort."

"Liar," she screamed.

Her anger cracked out like a wip. It tore into Stephen with a force she
had never imagined, slamming him into the steps. Her rage mounted,
pouring out of her in a torrent of agony, wringing what was Stephen
from what lay underneath, tugging at the very essence of her old friend
and protector. She was determined to see the truth, to see this
impostor for what he really was.

She'd expected a fight, to pit her infant power against an angel's,
perhaps to win, perhaps to lose. She'd imagined all of the elements
beating about her, threatening to tear her apart as she fought for
control - a true battle of gods. But Stephen offered no resistance, and
his face spoke of nothing but sorrow as her fury rained down upon
him.

And, at last, the child came free, shredded into nothing by the force
of her will. What remained was equally unreal - not the blazing pillar
she'd seen in the forest, not her father's image, not some winged
being, but a simple looking man of early middle age who would have
easily gone unnoticed in the street. It was certainly not the face of
an angel.

"I'm sorry, Lisa," the man said sadly. "I cannot allow this to
continue."

And he reached out his hand, not to touch her but simply to point. She
felt the world grow dim around her. The ground was no longer solid
beneath her feet, the warmth of the sun faded from her cheeks and the
sound of a passing train seemed distant and hollow.

"I can think of no other way to keep you from harm and be sure you will
never harm others," was the last thing she heard as she was surrounded
forever by darkness.