to Great-grandma Mae. The story is that pink was her favorite color, and so her husband ordered those trees especially for her. Grandpa Pete remembers when they were planted.”
Koji listened patiently, biting his lip as if trying to contain some comment, but when she paused for breath, he blurted, “Is the oven supposed to do that?”
Prissie glanced away from the cutting board and gasped. Smoke was trickling out from around the oven door and drifting toward the ceiling. “Oh, no! My pie crust cookies!” she wailed.
Grabbing the oven mitts, she yanked the oven open, releasing a cloud of acrid smoke into the room. Neat rows of pastry strips that had been sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar were charred beyond recognition, and once she noticed that some of them were actually smoldering, she hurried the baking sheet to the kitchen sink and dumped the whole lot in. When she flipped on the water, it hissed against the hot pan, sending up a billow of steam.
“No,” she muttered grumpily. “That isn’t supposed to happen. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Koji blinked. “You did not want my help.”
Prissie threw down her oven mitts onto the counter and slapped off the faucet, then stomped to the kitchen table and sat, blinking back angry tears. “This isn’t fair!” she seethed. “Everyone else can do this!” Well, maybe not everyone, but that’s the way it felt. Grandma Nell’s fabulous pies consistently won ribbons, Auntie Lou’s entry was sure to impress the judges, and even her father could probably knock their socks off if he wanted to. Prissie wanted to show everyone that she could do just as well!
“I can see that you wish to do your best,” Koji cautiously offered. “But it is not good to compare yourself to others.”
“What would you know about it?” she returned waspishly.
Koji didn’t react to her tone; he merely answered her question. “I also have a mentor whose reputation precedes him. My placement with Shimron is a distinct honor, and I wish very much to excel.”
Interest lurked behind Prissie’s sulky expression. “What’s he like?”
“Old. Wise. Patient.” Koji’s eyes shone with admiration for the angel he’d been assigned to work with. “Shimron is one of the First.”
“First?”
Koji nodded. “He remembers the creation of this world and has looked upon all of time!” Sobering somewhat, he added, “He also remembers the Rebellion.”
Prissie wasn’t sure exactly what he was talking about, but it was a relief that Koji could sympathize with her plight. “Does he make everything look easy?”
The young angel considered her question, but he didn’t answer it directly. “My task was to watch, to remember, and to testify, but in the midst of my responsibilities, I was seen.”
“By me,” she supplied, her mood shifting. “Did you get into trouble?”
Koji shook his head. “Shimron was pleased that I was given this chance. He was also able to meet a human and speaks fondly about his experience. They also became friends.”
“Someone else who could see angels?” Prissie asked, intrigued.
“Yes. It is not unheard of … just rare.”
“Who did Shimron meet?”
The young angel’s eyes took on a mischievous shine. “Elijah.”
Prissie gawked at him. “The Elijah?”
“Indeed.”
13
THE PARTY GIRL
Koji edged closer to Abner, wriggling his toes in the soft grass of their garden sanctuary while he waited to be noticed. The silver-haired angel stood in a veritable cloud of yahavim; the little angels dipped and spiraled around the Caretaker, vying for his attention. Once each bright member of his flock had been counted and coddled, Abner turned his attention to the young loiterer. “What is it, Koji?”
“May I ask a favor?”
Abner clasped his hands behind his back. “You may ask.”
Koji nodded solemnly. This was the way of Caretakers, whose powers were awe-inspiring. “I have a friend …” he began nervously.
“Do you now?” Abner gently prompted.
“Prissie,” Koji replied breathlessly.
Abner chose a seat at the base of a tree and beckoned for the boy to join him. “Why don’t you start by telling me more about your friend?” he invited.
With a grateful smile, Koji did just that.
Early on the morning of Margery’s birthday party, a soft tap sounded at Prissie’s bedroom door. “Who is it?” she called quietly.
“Koji. May I come in?”
“I guess,” she replied, sitting up in bed and pulling her blankets close.
He slipped into the room and carefully closed the door before whispering, “I have something for you!” Plunking down in the center of her rug, he proudly displayed a small apple basket mounded with distinctively blushing apples.
“Are those from Great-grandma Mae’s trees?”
Koji was positively beaming.