21
“Bryant,” a beautiful angel called my name. “Bryant!” The angel was mad. “Bryant, wake up!” The angel smacked me.
“Ow!” I coughed. Water tumbled from my mouth.
“Oh thank God!” The angel was Elizabeth, and she pulled me into her soaking wet, foul-smelling arms.
Devon sank to the ground next to me, his whole body shaking, his face a mixture of exhaustion and relief.
“You okay?” I asked him. My voice came out all raspy like I’d gotten overly enthusiastic at a football game.
“I’m good.” Devon nodded, flopping his hair into his eyes.
“I told you we would all make it.” Eric was not hovering worriedly over me. He stood away from us on the other side of the white room.
All four walls were made out of the same pure white marble as the floor. There were no lights in the room, just a warm,
