The Angels and Lisa

"Lisa has returned!"

Lisa held her arms to the heavens, daring the angels to try and take her again. She had a loaded water gun ready to drench their wings and pull them down to Earth if they tried. The water inside had been sitting for one year now, and it would sure make them stink if they ever came back for her.

She had come up with one way to ensure the angels never returned. She had committed to being the demon they'd never dare go near. Ha-ha, you evil angels shall know the eternal flames.

"Close the door and go wash your hands, sweetie," her father told her as he set the table.

"I will not," she said, folding her arms.

"Sweetie, food will be ready in about twenty minutes," her father reiterated calmly. Demons didn't know how to respond to that calmness. A demon was also hungry.

"I'll wash my hands," Lisa mumbled as she closed the front door to their apartment. She hunched her way a few steps to the sink.

The kitchen and dining room were connected, separated only by a counter stretching across the length of half the room. They ate on the table resting against it, the steam from the food wafting with a fresh vegetable smell.

Her father fiddled with his phone as they ate. Lisa saw his screen filled with the white document for his work. She ate her peas and sausages in silence, often stabbing one pea at a time hoping it would scream, until he put his phone away.

"How was school?" he asked. "Did you settle in okay?"

Lisa grunted and pouted. "They keep calling me Pirate Girl." She prodded the leftover carrots with her fork, rolling them around.

"Is that, er..." Her father cleared his throat. "Is that a friendly nickname?"

"No. There's a big girl called Stacey. I don't like her. There are more, but I don't know their names. They also called me Scar Girl."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Maybe if you tell them you don't like these names, they'll stop. Children can be more precocious than people think."

"I don't know what that word means," Lisa said. "But I know they won't leave me alone." She saw her father's expression drop. "But it doesn't bother me," she added. "They didn't do it for long."

Only every lesson. She would rather suffer death-by-carrots than tell her father that much.

"I'll ring the school tomorrow," he said, his mouth still drooping. "I'll let them know of the problem."

"It's fine, Daddy. It doesn't matter. We're getting a new student tomorrow, so I won't be the only one." Lisa sought another topic. "Do you want to see some of the drawings I did?" She lifted her school bag and flipped open her art book. "They look better than I ever will," she mumbled, regretting her words and hoping her father didn't hear.

Her father picked up their plates and kissed the top of her head. "You're gorgeous, sweetie," he said. "How about you show them to me as I'm doing the washing? We'll visit your mother after I've put everything away."

*

The graveyard always had that hollow and spooky feel, like it was rubbing your skin with its cold hands. Lisa liked it. Much better than anything heavenly and angelic and boring.

"Do you think this place is haunted?" Lisa asked with unrestrained hope.

"Probably," her father replied as they strode up the gravel path. "I believe that tree over there is where the zombies congregate."

"That's so cool. Are there any others?"

"Well, let's see." Her father searched the lines of graves and the grassy banks. "Oh, that bench over there - that's where the angels wait."

"I hate that bench," Lisa pouted.

"I hate it, too."

"And that over there... is your grandmother."

Lisa looked ahead. An older woman, who stood straighter than all other elderly people she had known, waited, watching them. Her dark hair was forced, and her mouth never rose. Lisa's steps slowed.

"Don't worry," said her father. "We'll put the flowers on your mother's grave, say a quick hello to your grandma, and then we'll be off."

Lisa nodded, but she already knew what was going to happen. They rarely met up, and every time was the same.

They rested the potted flowers in the impressions on the stone base. Red roses - her mother's love. She had adored the smell and the pigment.

"Elisabeth," her grandmother spoke. Lisa's blood froze at her birth name and the strict voice saying it. "Are you still playing silly charades, or have you grown up?

Her father's hand came to her rescue and blocked her eye. He patted her head, kneeling to her ear. "Thank you for placing the flowers. Your mother appreciates it and loves you. How about you run off and explore that tree I mentioned earlier? Just a for a few minutes, yeah?"

Lisa nodded. She snuck a look at her grandma - a mistake! - and ran away.

She didn't make it to the tree. Instead, she hid and crouched behind a thick tombstone belonging to a beloved aunt.

"Sorry," she mumbled to the deceased, not feeling the demon inside her anymore. She wanted to cover her ears, but a bigger part of her didn't - the curiosity a tether to her heart.

"Did you look into the makeup options?" That was her grandmother's voice: sharp and rich. "How about the surgery list I sent you? She can't be feeling normal wearing that thing over her face every day."

"She doesn't want a fake eye," her father said. "Nor does she need anything done. You need to stop this. She's beautiful with or without the eyepatch."

"Imagine how she feels looking at that scar every time she sees a mirror! She won't grow if you don't let her."

"She is fine, okay? She's strong and... she has a growing talent in art."

"Yes, I've seen them," she said with disgust. "Deranged things. You encourage her oddities despite it not being beneficial to her welfare."

"You want her to be miserable? You want her to stop being herself?" Her father was yelling. "Why can't you love her for who she is and not for who you want her to be?! I will stand by my daughter in everything she does. I will make sure she feels loved so she's able to look back on her childhood and not have it be shrouded in so much pain. I was hoping she'd have someone in her life who could act as the missing motherly figure. I guess I was wrong."

"Don’t walk away, Harry! My daughter wouldn't raise her child like this."

Her father stopped and turned. "She's my precious little demon. When you're ready to accept her, you know where we live."

An unsettling quiet fell on the graveyard. Her father's footsteps scratched the grass, closing in on her hiding spot. He stood beside her and reached out his hand. 

"Sorry, Daddy," she said as they headed home. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Her father squeezed her hand. "It's okay, sweetheart. You've done nothing wrong."

*

The next morning, Lisa had her art book out in science class. She scribbled notes from the lesson but spent most of her time on the drawings. She wanted to draw the flames today. The sketched angel would burn. Ha-ha!

"Hey, Pirate Girl." Stacey's voice. Lisa didn't have to look up to know the approaching girl wasn't alone. She closed her art book and shoved it in her bag before they did anything to it.

"I don't like that name," Lisa told them. "Or the other one. Please stop calling me them." She hadn't much hope in her father's recommendation, but it was worth a try.

The three smirking girls laughed. "Come on, give us a wink, Pirate Girl. Better yet, where's your hook? Argh-matey."

Lisa looked at the teacher. She was bending over and talking to a student at the front of the class. There were only five minutes left of the lesson, and she let students pack up and chat and walk around. Stacey and her stupid friends took every advantage of her leniency.

"Leave me alone," Lisa said. She put her notebook away and tried ignoring them, waiting for the bell.

"Do you have a parrot?" one of the girl's said, trying to hop out of Stacey's shadow. "Pirate Girl needs her parrot."

"Shut up..." Lisa mumbled. They’re not stopping.

"Do you want a cracker? They're parrot-shaped if that helps."

"Shut up..." Why couldn't they just stop?

"Do you know how ugly you are? I mean, really? You can never be pretty with that scar."

"Shut up!" They stopped smirking and everyone in class stared like tourists to a crumbling attraction. Lisa lost the connection between thought and voice. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" she screeched. "Why do you keep saying it?! Why don't you stop talking? Why, why, why, why?! Why don't you leave me alone? Words hurt. Words hurt so much and after you say them you don't always get to take them back!"

The classroom had gone deathly quiet. Even the teacher was speechless as she stared, open-mouthed and dumbfounded at the outburst.

Lisa ran. She ran through the horrible silence and out the door, her tears making it hard to see.

*

"We've called your father," the Student Councilor informed her, crouching and staring up at Lisa's eye. "He said he'll be here soon. Do you need anything?"

Lisa shook her head and slumped on a chair in the small vestibule where injured and ill children are often sent. Connected to the office, teachers who would never wander around school worked on desks and computers. She watched the ticking clock on the wall, willing it to go faster.

Why had they called him? Her dad had just started his new job; he shouldn't have to come here, not for her, not for something silly. She had let him down and cost him what mattered. She was a stupid demon.

Her father rushed through the door, out of breath and disheveled. His bag fell to floor, care for the laptop gone, as he came over to Lisa.

"Hey, sweetie," he said, kneeling. "Are you okay? I heard those nasty girls were at it again. I've spoken with the school and made a formal complaint, addressing one of the students by name." He rubbed her shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie. Don't let them get to you."

She had to be strong. Act like all was fine. Stop him from worrying. What sort of demon cries, anyway?

A weak one…

Lisa's eye began to pour. "I'm fine, Daddy. I promise.” She rubbed the tears from her face, her fingers catching the scar bursting from the eyepatch. It would always be there. She could feel it when the wind hit her face, she could see it in everyone’s eyes when they looked at her. Except her father’s. He had only love in his eyes. Why couldn’t anyone else see her as he did? Her grandmother’s words echoed in her head and made her sick. Surgery to be acceptable? Makeup to be partially normal? She didn’t want that. She just wanted to be liked and to have friends! But maybe she didn’t deserve anything like that.

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that you are not fine.” Her father dabbed her cheek with a tissue. “I’ll be here for as long as you need me.” His smile was thin and tired.

“But you need to get back to work," Lisa said. She couldn’t have him stay, not now. Now was not the time to be a demon.

"That's okay, sweetheart. If anything happens, I can find another job."

But this was the one you wanted... Lisa hugged her father and squeezed as tightly as she could.

"I'm fine, Daddy. Please, please, please go back to work. I'll be good. I'll be... an angel."

Her father tensed. He gently let her down onto the seat. "Be yourself, sweetie." He held her hands. "Just be yourself and do what makes you happy. The bullies will stop their games - I'll make sure of that." He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you at home. Let me know if anything else happens, okay? I’ll be here for you, no matter what. I promise things will get better."

*

Lisa sat at the back of the class as usual. Stacey and the others didn't even look at her. Maybe one of the teachers had said something to them. Maybe her father’s complaint had taken effect. She brought out her art book once more as the lesson began.

"Quiet, please, class," the short, elderly teacher said. "We have another new student today. Would you like to come in and introduce yourself?"

Lisa glanced only once and went back to her drawing. The girl had long hair, deep in the shade of night. It looked cool and silky.

"I'm Hana Yuki,” the girl said. “I'm from Osaka, Japan. Please take care of me." She bowed. Her accent wasn't that strong, but she took her time with each word.

A murmur of greeting spread over the class at the teacher’s request. “Why don’t you take the free seat at the back.”

When the teacher stopped his boring lecture and had everyone work from the handouts and books, the new student from Japan leaned in close to Lisa.

"That drawing is so cool!" she said.

Lisa’s eyes poked out. Her brain couldn’t find a response. Was it fake interest? Did she really think it looked cool?

"Thank you," Lisa said, opting for simplicity. She lifted her drawing to show her. The drawn angel on the ground was screaming in pain while on fire. It was a new personal favorite of hers.

“That’s amazing,” said their new transfer student. “I’m Yuki. What’s your name?”

“Lisa.”

“What’s your family name?”

“Robertson.”

"Robertson-san, that drawing is amazing."

"Just Lisa will do."

"Lisa-chan, I love that drawing."

Lisa tilted her head, perplexed. What was a ‘chan’? “You’re called Yuki?”

“Hana Yuki. But you can call me Yuki.”

Lisa nodded, all words for conversation choosing to leave her when she had a glimmer of hope in a friend. There was no way she’d be your friend. You don’t deserve one, anyway. Not after making Daddy come here and lose his job.

Yuki continued staring at the drawing. “Do you like angels?” she asked.

"I hate angels. They took my mother. And they picked me up and decided to drop me when we were in the clouds. I woke up in the hospital and Daddy was crying. That’s why I want them to burn."

"I'm sorry," she said with more sincerity than anyone else had.

Lisa finally took her in. Aside from her cool hair, she had a friendly smile. She was about the same height, maybe a little shorter.

"Um, thank you." Lisa wanted to be cautious. This person could easily grow disgusted of her and–

"Can we be friends?" said Yuki. "I don't know anyone yet, and I find it hard to approach people."

Lisa felt her eye water. No, she’s not your friend. She’s just… joking around. “How come you approached me?”

“Because you look so cool with that eyepatch.” Yuki’s eyes gleamed. “And we sit next to each other. I thought we could be friends and study buddies. And I draw, too.”

Lisa stopped herself from screaming in sheer joy. She stopped herself from crying tears of happiness. She almost stopped herself from accepting Yuki’s friendship.

“I’d love to be friends,” she said, the giddiness coming out in every word. She bounced on her seat. “And I want to see your drawings.”

“I can show you them at lunch.”

"I know the bestest place where no one will find us," said Lisa. “We can draw in secret.”

“I’d love that!”

*

Lisa stayed at the library for an extra forty-five minutes to give her father time to finish work and return home before she did. He had offered to pick her up, but she didn't want to go in a car ever again. She hummed, though, after what had started off as such a terrible day, it had ended wonderfully. She couldn’t wait to speak to Yuki again, and she couldn’t wait to tell her father she had made a friend. He’d be delighted and she would get to see him smile again. A real smile.

She stopped her humming. She had promised to be an angel and now she had a friend because of it. Angels always played dirty. She sighed and headed home.

“I’m home,” she said. She didn’t burst through the door, and she kept her voice down. The saucepan on the hob hissed as her father came around, shocked.

“Um, welcome back,” he said. His face dropped. “How are you doing? You didn’t announce yourself.”

Lisa shrugged but perked up. “I made a friend today. She’s called Yuki and she’s from Japan and she draws too.” Lisa waved her arms. “We’re friends now because… because I’m an angel.” She stopped.

Her father came over. “Your heart is purer than any angel, but you are not one of those foolish beasts who dropped you. You are so much more than the fake heavenly creatures. You are Lisa: the demon whom I cherish, and you announce yourself when you come in because it’s what you want to do, not what others want you to do. Now, do you want to try it again, or do you want to come in?”

Lisa’s heart ached and she shook her head. She loved her father with everything she had.

She wiped her eye and stepped back into the hall outside their apartment. Her father closed the door for her.

With a deep breath and a smile, she barged inside.  

"Lisa has returned!"