now he found himself abruptly tossed out of range.
Muttering viciously, his head throbbing, he worked his way back toward that tree—and found himself stopped short by the massive sword of a watch-care angel.
“You have been cast aside. Take your foul intentions away from here.”
The demon growled, furious that weeks of careful strategy had been ripped to shreds in one instant of connection between the accursed girl and his eternal Enemy. Then, looking over the angel’s shoulder, he saw the girl pull a yellow piece of paper out of her backpack, and his eyes narrowed. No, he would not force a further approach with the flaming sword at his throat. He might be invited back in soon enough.
He folded his arms haughtily and looked back at his adversary. “You are weak—always so willing to watch out for these pitiful ones who are so double-minded, so willing to work against all you are striving for. You could’ve been so much more powerful, so much more effective, in the hands of my master.”
He glanced over at the girl again and smiled with anticipation, eager for her destruction, her humiliation. I will win. It is only a matter of time .
Claire sat up and pulled her yellow class schedule out of her backpack.
Now what? She could technically get away with carrying only four classes, but no way would she face the admonishing gaze of Ms. Tabor-Brown. She needed to put something where choir had been. It would be nice to have a class that looked impressive on her freshman transcript. She had always been one of the smartest students in her high school classes and had always felt on top of things. But here everyone had been the smartest person in his high school classes, the most academically proficient, the recipient of the highest grades.
She was determined to prove that a midwestern girl from a Christian high school could hack it with the best of them. If Sherry could handle it, couldn’t she? Maybe eliminating choir was a godsend, a message to fill that slot with a really difficult or prestigious class—something that would set her apart from the pack. After all, she had to make sure that she would get that scholarship for next year. And she wanted something that would look good to potential employers, something that would impress all these confident freshmen sauntering by on the paths around her. So many students came to Harvard as if it were their birthright, from Exeter, Andover, or some other exclusive prep school. She wasn’t a second-class citizen, and she would prove it.
Above the tree behind her, a dark being smugly moved past the force that had been obstructing him and settled into his old position.
Claire rummaged through her backpack to find the fall catalog of classes. A week ago she had highlighted several dozen classes of interest, then narrowed them down. She flipped through the pages and scanned the other candidates again. Anthropology. Well, there was that Machu Picchu class, but she’d never be able to pay for it. Biology. She already had one, and most of the others required her current introductory class as a prerequisite. Economics. Yeah, right. Maybe later, once she learned the difference between a stock and a bond.
Another few pages. Philosophy. Now there were some interesting sounding classes she hadn’t noticed before. Existential Thought. The Gulf Between Sartre and Kant . Huh? Optimistic Humanism versus Nihilism . She kept flipping.
Religion. Ah. Reading carefully through the descriptions, she felt her spirits perk up for the first time since she had walked out of the music building. She recognized most of the Christian-based subjects, and several on other religious thought—even the advanced classes. Bible Writings and Interpretations—a study of both the Hebrew Bible and the writings of it’s commentators. Monday, Wednesday, Friday at one o’clock. Perfect!
And—wow—it was an advanced class, a cross-registration class between the college and the divinity school. Wouldn’t
Muttering viciously, his head throbbing, he worked his way back toward that tree—and found himself stopped short by the massive sword of a watch-care angel.
“You have been cast aside. Take your foul intentions away from here.”
The demon growled, furious that weeks of careful strategy had been ripped to shreds in one instant of connection between the accursed girl and his eternal Enemy. Then, looking over the angel’s shoulder, he saw the girl pull a yellow piece of paper out of her backpack, and his eyes narrowed. No, he would not force a further approach with the flaming sword at his throat. He might be invited back in soon enough.
He folded his arms haughtily and looked back at his adversary. “You are weak—always so willing to watch out for these pitiful ones who are so double-minded, so willing to work against all you are striving for. You could’ve been so much more powerful, so much more effective, in the hands of my master.”
He glanced over at the girl again and smiled with anticipation, eager for her destruction, her humiliation. I will win. It is only a matter of time .
Claire sat up and pulled her yellow class schedule out of her backpack.
Now what? She could technically get away with carrying only four classes, but no way would she face the admonishing gaze of Ms. Tabor-Brown. She needed to put something where choir had been. It would be nice to have a class that looked impressive on her freshman transcript. She had always been one of the smartest students in her high school classes and had always felt on top of things. But here everyone had been the smartest person in his high school classes, the most academically proficient, the recipient of the highest grades.
She was determined to prove that a midwestern girl from a Christian high school could hack it with the best of them. If Sherry could handle it, couldn’t she? Maybe eliminating choir was a godsend, a message to fill that slot with a really difficult or prestigious class—something that would set her apart from the pack. After all, she had to make sure that she would get that scholarship for next year. And she wanted something that would look good to potential employers, something that would impress all these confident freshmen sauntering by on the paths around her. So many students came to Harvard as if it were their birthright, from Exeter, Andover, or some other exclusive prep school. She wasn’t a second-class citizen, and she would prove it.
Above the tree behind her, a dark being smugly moved past the force that had been obstructing him and settled into his old position.
Claire rummaged through her backpack to find the fall catalog of classes. A week ago she had highlighted several dozen classes of interest, then narrowed them down. She flipped through the pages and scanned the other candidates again. Anthropology. Well, there was that Machu Picchu class, but she’d never be able to pay for it. Biology. She already had one, and most of the others required her current introductory class as a prerequisite. Economics. Yeah, right. Maybe later, once she learned the difference between a stock and a bond.
Another few pages. Philosophy. Now there were some interesting sounding classes she hadn’t noticed before. Existential Thought. The Gulf Between Sartre and Kant . Huh? Optimistic Humanism versus Nihilism . She kept flipping.
Religion. Ah. Reading carefully through the descriptions, she felt her spirits perk up for the first time since she had walked out of the music building. She recognized most of the Christian-based subjects, and several on other religious thought—even the advanced classes. Bible Writings and Interpretations—a study of both the Hebrew Bible and the writings of it’s commentators. Monday, Wednesday, Friday at one o’clock. Perfect!
And—wow—it was an advanced class, a cross-registration class between the college and the divinity school. Wouldn’t
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