Angel on a Mission

Chapter 2

Gabrielle's POV

I find myself staring at the vehicle before me for a moment, contemplating whether or not I should drive it. After all, I can always teleport or even fly, so what’s the real purpose of this?

To blend in, perhaps?

Maybe that is it.

With a slight shake of my head as if to clear my thoughts, I hop into the car and turn the engine over. I decide to just go with the flow, as if it's the most natural thing to do.

I start driving, and before I know it, I’m on the road that leads directly to school.

Yes!

I don’t have to worry about traffic at all—what a relief!

I pull the car into a parking space in the school lot and step out, carrying my backpack as I make my way inside with a piece of paper clutched in my hand. I’m looking for the 'faculty' room, where the 'professors' would be.

Fortunately, I find it right away and meet up with the class 'adviser.'

“Good morning! My name is Gabrielle Martinez, and I’m the transfer student from Vernon, California,” I politely introduce myself. The female teacher stares at me for a moment in a daze, but she quickly snaps back into reality and returns my greeting with a warm smile.

“Miss Martinez, I’m Phoebe Garcia, your homeroom teacher and adviser,” she says, extending her hand for a shake, which I gladly accept.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Garcia,” I reply, which earns another smile from her. She glances at her watch and then says, “Perfect. We should head to your class shortly.” With that, she stands up and gathers her books.

I assist her with the books, and we make our way to the classroom. Even from the hallway, the bustling noise of the class is already audible.

Ah, human teenagers. How typical.

Miss Garcia pauses in front of the classroom door, taking a deep breath before offering me a small smile.

“Please be patient with them; they can be a bit… difficult,” she warns.

I respond with an assuring smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Garcia. I’ve dealt with 'difficult' people before,” I tell her.

She lets out a small giggle, seeming to relax a little before we step inside.

As we enter the classroom, no one stops what they are doing.

I take a breath and sigh.

How rude they are being to their teacher.

“Class!” Miss Garcia shouts, but still, no one pays attention.

“Class!” she screams again. She glances at me apologetically, and I offer her another supportive smile.

I didn’t really expect much from anyone; I had anticipated this would happen.

“Excuse me,” I say softly, but my voice somehow captures their attention, and everyone turns to look at me. I smile at them warmly.

I see their faces transform into expressions of awe and disbelief.

Miss Garcia gazes at me, her expression one of shock.

Of course she’d react that way after my subtle influence to garner their attention.

“Go on, Miss Garcia,” I encourage her politely. She clears her throat and looks at the class.

“Class, please sit down,” she instructs, and finally, everyone begins to move while still staring at me, their curiosity piqued.

I give them a small smile and a wave.

“We have a transfer student this year. Please introduce yourself to the class,” she says, offering me an encouraging smile of her own.

“Hi! I’m Gabrielle Martinez, but please call me Elle. I truly hope we can get along well,” I say, flashing a bright smile at them. At that moment, the guys in the room erupt into cheers.

“Quiet down!” Miss Garcia snaps at them, but they continue to nudge one another, their eyes glued on me.

While scanning the room, my gaze lands on a pair of familiar eyes.

Oh.

It’s him.

I almost forgot about him.

“Miss Martinez, you can take the seat next to Miss Carter,” Miss Garcia says, pointing at an empty chair beside a girl with striking red hair and warm brown eyes.

“Okay, thank you, Miss Garcia,” I tell her, and she gives me a nod and a smile.

As I walk toward the chair, a few of the guys whistle in my direction.

Really, that’s not a very gentlemanly thing to do.

But then, the guy from yesterday, who I remember is named Alex, unexpectedly stands up and grabs me by the arm, staring at me intently.

Oh no.

“Mr. Smith!” Miss Garcia calls out after him.

“What are you doing here? Are you a stalker or something?” he hisses at me.

I look at him with a calm expression.

“A stalker?” I echo, tilting my head to the side innocently.

He tightens his grip on me, his demeanor growing more aggressive.

“Mr. Smith, what are you doing to Miss Martinez?!” Miss Garcia intervenes, but her intervention does nothing to loosen his hold on me.

“I swear to God you’d better stay the hell away from me,” he warns.

My brows furrow in confusion.

“You don’t swear in the name of God; that’s a sin,” I reply earnestly.

His anger intensifies at my response.

“Dude…” another guy tries to intervene, halting him.

I realize I should probably resolve this escalating tension.

“Fine. I happened to be in the right place at the right time. While that may not fully explain everything, it’s all I can offer because that’s the truth,” I say firmly.

“Please, let’s avoid making a scene and causing discomfort. I’m not here to get you. If you’d prefer to talk more about this later, we can,” I suggest calmly.

His jaw clenches angrily before he releases my arm with a sudden, aggressive motion and storms out of the room.

“Mr. Smith!” Miss Garcia shouts after him as the other guy also follows him out.

Miss Garcia lets out a sigh as they leave.

She glances at me, a look of concern written across her face, while the rest of the class also gazes at me warily.

“I’m fine, everyone. It was just a misunderstanding,” I assure them, trying to ease the tension in the room.

“I should take you to the clinic,” Miss Garcia offers, still visibly worried.

I shake my head firmly.

“No, thank you. Please, continue with your class,” I insist.

She hesitates, eyeing me cautiously, but I give her an encouraging smile.

With a deep sigh, she relents and nods.

I take my seat beside the girl Miss Garcia referred to earlier, smiling at her. She seems startled by my gesture and nervously adjusts her glasses.

“I’m Elle. What’s your name?” I ask her softly. She gulps slightly before answering.

“M-Mikaela,” she stutters. I smile warmly at her.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mikaela. I hope we can become good friends,” I express. Her wide-eyed stare indicates she’s taken aback.

“M-me?” she asks, pointing to herself in disbelief. I nod affirmatively.

“Of course, you! Is there any other Mikaela in the room?” I question playfully. She shakes her head, and I smile at her again.

“Exactly,” I confirm. She responds with a nervous, shy smile.

Then, her gaze drifts to my arm.

“Are you really okay?” she inquires, concern evident in her voice.

I nod reassuringly.

“I'll be fine. It’s really not a big deal at all,” I tell her.

“Um, the guy earlier… Alexander. He has a bit of a temper. You might want to stay away from him,” Mikaela advises cautiously.

I return her concern with a small smile.

“I’ll definitely take note of that,” I say, which causes her to blush.

As the class progresses, Mikaela and I listen attentively while Miss Garcia shares some important information.

I can still feel numerous eyes on me, and I can't help but think that it’s not very polite to stare.

Eventually, Miss Garcia concludes her announcements, and another teacher enters the room.

The class is about to begin.

I realize I wouldn’t actually need to learn much of this material.

In fact, I already know almost everything being taught.

I even possess knowledge about each student in the room—their names, ages, birthdays, family members, family histories, everything and anything.

“Miss Martinez,” the male teacher calls out, directing his gaze toward me.

“Yes, sir?” I respond politely. He clears his throat, eyeing me thoughtfully.

“Do you know why it is that time seems to flow only in one direction?” he asks as I stand up.

“Well,” I begin, gathering my thoughts, “since Einstein, physicists have conceptualized space and time as forming a four-dimensional structure commonly referred to as ‘spacetime.’ However, space differs from time in some crucial ways. In space, we can move freely as we wish. When it comes to time, we find ourselves constrained to a singular path. We grow older, not younger, and while we’re able to remember the past, we cannot recall the future. Time, unlike space, seems to possess a distinct direction that physicists aptly call the 'arrow of time,'” I elucidate with confidence.

The teacher stands there, left in shock, as does the rest of the class. I flash them a smile while the teacher clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

“Very well explained, Miss Martinez,” he compliments, and I take my seat once again.

“That was amazing!” Mikaela exclaims, her eyes wide in admiration. I chuckle lightly.

“I’m sure you already know that too,” I nudge her playfully. She blushes, clearly flattered.

The class carries on until it’s time to transition to our next class.

“I have French next. How about you, Mikaela?” I ask, glancing at her as we prepare to leave. She looks a little flustered but gathers her thoughts.

“I have French too,” she replies, barely louder than a whisper. I can’t help but smile.

“Shall we walk together?” I suggest. She hesitates for a moment but ultimately nods in agreement.

We make our way to French class side by side.

“Are you sure it’s alright for you to be seen walking with me?” she asks, her head lowered in uncertainty.

I ignore the eyes that are now following us, filled with awe and confusion.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t it be? I’m sure everyone will envy me for walking with such an amazing girl like you,” I respond, nudging her encouragingly. She lifts her gaze towards me, and I can see a spark of hope in her eyes.

“You think I’m amazing?” she asks, her voice filled with anticipation. I nod decisively.

“Absolutely! You’re genuinely amazing, Mikaela,” I affirm, and her smile lights up her entire face.

We arrive at our French class and chat a bit more before the next session begins.

Mikaela comes across as very quiet and shy, but she also displays a sweet, kind, and loving demeanor. It’s evident that she has been raised well by her parents.

When the time arrives for us to separate for our third class, we promise to meet up for lunch later.

Oh my goodness, I actually made my very first friend!