All His Angels Are Starving

What delusion am I convincing myself of right now so that I can pretend I’m okay? Jenny Huang picked at the thoughts fussing about in her head while she stared out the large windows of her first-period English classroom. It had stormed all morning, and the rain showed no sign of letting up. The sky, the street, and even the people rushing up and down the busy Manhattan streets all seemed drab and gray and dull beyond belief.

Mrs. Rivera droned on about The Scarlet Letter. The lesson involved something about symbolism and the Priest who’d committed a sin, but the words slipped into one of Jenny’s ears and escaped through the other.

All she could think about was how graduation was only a few weeks away. Then she’d be out of here. No more pointless schoolwork. No more dealing with her obsessive-compulsive mom. And no more pretending to be nice to her stepfather and stepbrother who still felt like strangers to her after a year. She’d escape all of it and begin life anew. She imagined finally being able to breathe, to be herself, and to figure out what being herself even meant. She wanted to have a wild amount of sex, try falling in love, and just… be.

Most importantly, she wouldn’t have to be her mom’s daughter anymore.

Jenny had had yet another argument with her mother that morning. It was always over some dumb stupid thing that didn’t matter, but there was always something. Who left the hallway light on? Electricity costs money. Who left their shoes in the wrong place? Stop taking so long in the shower; you’re wasting water. Don’t eat too much, you’ll ruin your figure. You’re too thin. What will people say? When are you going to grow up?

It went on and on and on, and this morning it had been not taking out the trash. Even though it was her stepbrother, Oliver’s turn. What was even the point of having a younger sibling and divvying up chores if Jenny still got screamed at when he didn’t do them?

She sighed and tried to pay attention to Mrs. Rivera. But try as she might, the only thought in her head was freedom. She’d gotten several fully funded offers from prestigious universities across the country, but the one she’d chosen, the one she’d bought sweaters and t-shirts from, was Stanford, the one furthest away from New York and her family.

It wasn’t a coincidence that as soon as her mom had read the acceptance letter, the conflicts at home became unbearable. It meant that her mom wouldn’t be able to continue burying those overbearing claws into Jenny. No more micromanaging things like when to eat, when to shower, homework and exams and grades.

That was one thing about The Scarlet Letter that interested Jenny. In the story, Hester Prynne was marked as an outcast and an adulterer for choosing love. The woman just wanted to be free and her society would not accept it. That was how Jenny felt.

She just wanted to breathe. Have her own space and not feel bitter and alone and compressed and hurt all the time.

“Please turn to chapter twelve,” said Mrs. Rivera, flipping the pages of her book and stepping in my direction.

First-period English should be illegal. Jenny just wanted to climb back into bed, curl up under a thick blanket, and read the book on her own. Wasn’t that more important than sitting in a class and dissecting a bunch of old words?

“Jenny?” said Mrs. Rivera. She stopped in front of Jenny’s desk and looked down at her expectantly through thick horn-rimmed glasses. She was an elderly Hispanic woman, stern but kind in her own way, and she’d often keep Jenny after class to talk.

But that also meant Jenny was always the first one called upon when it came to reading in class. She groaned and sat up straight.

“Would you please read for us, dear?”

“Sure,” said Jenny, sucking in a deep breath. Then she licked her lips. All of a sudden her mouth felt dry. Why did this still give her anxiety even though she’d done it a hundred times?

Jenny cleared her throat and read out loud, trying to keep her voice from trembling. After two pages, Mrs. Rivera moved on to Harry Kim who sat behind Jenny.

Jenny let out a long breath, feeling hot under her red Stanford sweater. The rain wasn’t even chilly; she’d only worn the sweater to spite her mom. Now she was regretting it because all she had on underneath was a thin tank top, and Mrs. Rivera would never let her sit there so exposed.

As Harry Kim read in that deepening voice he had, Jenny’s thoughts shifted to prom. Nobody had asked her out yet. She glanced over at Susan Brown who Jenny considered her closest friend. Susan always reminded Jenny of old movies; talking with her, and being around her made Jenny’s heart ache, and the closest word she could come up with to describe the feeling was nostalgia.

Susan had dyed her hair blue for the New Year and wore it tied up in a messy bun. At least she called it messy. Jenny thought it was graceful and could never get her long dark hair to do the same. She’d thought about asking Susan to do it for her, but that thought made her blush, and she could never go through with it.

As Mrs. Rivera called upon the next person to read, Jenny wondered if anyone was going to ask her out. Or if she should ask someone out. Several boys in her grade seemed friendly and cute.

Again, she glanced towards her right, but this time she met Susan’s eyes. Susan’s lips curled up slightly, and heat rose to Jenny’s face as she pretended to adjust her grip on the book and turn the page. She tried to follow the words, but all she could think about was how warm it would feel to press her cheek against Susan’s.

Mrs. Rivera worked her way up the aisle and called on Susan next. Jenny shut her eyes and listened intently to Susan’s soft, gentle voice. Susan had the perfect reading voice. She gave each character a slightly different pitch, and she always emphasized exactly the words that needed weight to give the story its proper momentum.

It was something Jenny always looked forward to when they gamed together. Shooting other people, hearing her laugh, talking about random bullshit. Susan always took charge, shot calling and helping everyone, even strangers. She was always so sweet, even if she was having a bad day, and Jenny loved talking to her. Chatting about nothing till 4 am, just keeping each other company when they couldn’t sleep.

A part of Jenny wanted to ask Susan to prom. As friends, maybe. Susan’s boyfriend had dumped her recently. He’d wanted to take Leslie Garcia instead, and he’d broken Susan’s heart.

Then again, Jenny couldn’t even bring herself to look up from the book and glance at Susan's way again. Besides, what if Susan said no and things got too weird and they never spoke again?

“Jenny,” said Mrs. Rivera again.

Jenny perked up, her heart racing wildly all of a sudden. Would she have to read again? That wasn’t fair. And she had absolutely no idea where she would have to pick up from.

But all Mrs. Rivera said was, “Please sit up.” Then she made her way to the front of the room.

Susan smiled sympathetically, and Jenny shook her head, embarrassed.

Mrs. Rivera cleared her throat. Then she asked everyone to put everything away and take out a sheet of looseleaf. A few students groaned.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s time for a short pop essay.”

“This blows,” whispered Susan as she put her books neatly into her cute leather bag.

Jenny picked up the Jansport she’d had since middle school. “Yeah,” she said. “Still better than us acting out the scenes.”

“Oh, god,” said Susan with a laugh, setting off a flurry of butterflies in Jenny’s belly.

Mrs. Rivera wrote a quote out on the chalkboard. Susan turned slightly in her chair to face Jenny, and she looked like she was about to say something.

Jenny's head spun. Was this a good time to ask Susan to prom? Would it be weird? Hey, do you wanna go to prom together? Like, just to hang out? But before either of them could say anything, she felt a trembling underneath her feet. As though the floor had started shivering and couldn’t stop.

“Do you feel that?” asked Susan, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Mrs. Rivera dropped her chalk. Then, all at once, the tables, the chairs, and everything shook violently. Susan dashed out of her seat and caught Mrs. Rivera who’d lost her balance. Books tumbled off the shelves in the back. Someone shouted, “Earthquake!”

“Underneath your desks, everyone!” came Mrs. Rivera’s voice from the front.

Jenny dropped to her knees as Susan helped Mrs. Rivera under the teacher’s desk. The lights flickered out, and suddenly everything was dark. Glass shattered and rained down around Jenny, who squeezed her bag tight and shut her eyes, and prayed.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it was over. A heavy silence filled the classroom, as though the whole world had decided to hold its breath. A ghostly white glow came from the windows now that the lights were off.

“Is it over?” asked a girl.

“There could be aftershocks.”

“What you know about earthquakes?”

“Earth Science, bitch.”

“Everyone stay where you are,” said Mrs. Rivera, sternly. “Is anyone hurt?”

Jenny looked at all the glittering bits of glass around her. She guessed one of the lights got knocked loose and collapsed on top of her desk. She turned and glanced at Harry whose face had turned red. Everyone seemed alright.

She wanted to call out and ask if Susan was alright. She didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened to Mrs. Rivera if Susan hadn’t acted so quickly and selflessly.

“Is anyone getting reception?” came Susan’s voice from the front of the room, and Jenny felt some of the tension ease.

There was a flurry of motion as people reached for their bags. Jenny grabbed her phone and powered it on. No signal. Not even the school wi-fi.

Nobody else seemed to have any connection either, and everyone started murmuring with worry. Jenny pushed broken glass away with her bag, trying to clear out a space for when she could get out. At least it wasn’t pitch darkness, she thought. Even with it storming and gloomy outside, there was enough light to see…

Wait. She held her breath and focused. Other than the hushed voices of her classmates, it was quiet. Unbearably quiet. She turned slowly, grabbing the legs of her table to maneuver herself, and looked up at the windows.

There was no rain. The sky was gone. The storm, Manhattan, all of it. There was only a blank pale emptiness outside. It wasn’t darkness nor light, but something in-between that Jenny couldn’t describe. A renewed sense of dread clogged her throat.

Someone screamed.

“What happened?”

“Look out the windows. It’s….”

“Maybe it’s cause of the blackout?”

“Dumbass, how does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Quiet!” Mrs. Rivera shouted as she stood up in front of the classroom.

Everyone stopped talking and waited for her to say something. Something to explain why there was nothing but a void outside. But she said nothing. She walked over to the windows and gasped.

Someone whimpered. Other people threw out theories: It must be some strange weather thing. Like a really dense fog caused by the earthquake. What if we’re all dead?

Jenny started shaking, and for a second she thought it was an aftershock, but then she realized it was just her.

Was her mom okay? Her stepdad? Oliver? Oliver was two floors below her right? In his freshman math class? Jenny prayed silently that he’d gotten under his desk or somewhere safe and that nothing had happened to him.

Suddenly, the fight from this morning felt stupid and far away. Jenny rubbed the letters that spelled Stanford on her sweater. They had earthquakes in California, right? Was this a sign she shouldn’t go?

A sharp pain began on the left side of her forehead, right above her eye. She pressed her palm against it, crying out in pain. Mrs. Rivera and everyone else did the same.

The pain blossomed through Jenny’s head, spreading throughout her skull before blinking away. Words appeared. A series of messages.

Welcome to the Veil.

The Survival Challenge is in effect.

The victor shall be rewarded. Best of luck.

Human Population remaining: 851

“What?” whispered Jenny. The pain was gone, but the words… they showed up the way notifications did on her phone. But instead of on a screen, they appeared inside her head. It was as though her mind was a pool of liquid, and the messages emerged one by one as fully formed thoughts. Except they weren’t her thoughts.

Was everyone else getting this too? Survival challenge? Human population?

She had a feeling like some other message was about to emerge. It felt oddly like trying very hard to remember something that was just on the tip of her tongue. But before the message could show, Mrs. Rivera cried out. A shadow flickered across the room.

Jenny looked up to see her teacher stumbling backward toward her desk, her frail arms reaching behind her trying to find support. Jenny followed her gaze and felt her heart thud to a stop when she saw what had frightened Mrs. Rivera.

Something was climbing up the outside of the windows. Its thin figure illuminated by the pale glow of the void. With long blond hair, translucent skin, and big eyes that were just the white part... it looked human, but a dizzying uneasiness told Jenny that it wasn’t. Another message appeared:

Tarnished Angel (Level 2)

It looked like a naked woman, except emaciated and so skinny that Jenny couldn’t help but think of the pictures she’d seen of famine victims in her World History class. She could see almost all of its bones. Its ribs stuck out painfully, and its face was just skin stretched over a skull.

Yet, it had an eerie, unsettling beauty like a fragile glass sculpture. It stopped climbing once its entire body was in view. Then it opened its mouth and what looked like blood gushed down its chin. Before anyone could react, the angel let out a nightmarish scream.

It raised a fist and smashed through the window.