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They sent Jodie to the Home because her head is full of angels.

The angels talk nonstop. They talk about things from the past, things from the future, things that are happening right now-- but they're not always talking about this world, this universe, this timeline, so more often than not, even when what they say finally makes sense, it's usually wrong.

And they never stop giving advice. Sometimes it's useful advice, like reminding her to brush her teeth before bed. Sometimes it's bad advice, like to bite the kid next to her at school. And sometimes the advice seems harmless and useless: put that pen in the floor. No not there, there. Take that rock and leave it on the counter. Throw that penny into the street.

Jodie never, ever takes their advice anymore. One time when she was ten, she did. She moved a rock into the middle of the sidewalk, right where they said, and instead of leaving like they asked, she stayed.

A cyclist hit the rock and spilled into the street. A car stopped just short of hitting them, and a truck at the intersection plowed into the car, full speed, sweeping it away.

Even now, Jodie has nightmares about it, and about all the times before she'd done as the angels asked. They never gave her an explanation, they never tried to excuse themselves. Sometimes it was like they didn't even know she was there.

The staff at the Home try to help her, as do some of the other kids, but it feels useless. She knows she's not the only one, but she doesn't feel ready for help yet.

Until then, she spends her days trying to ignore the echoes of angels in her head.

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