Cristine was not very popular, when I realised that she carried a secret, she was an angel.
She is a student at my school. I don't see her as my friend, but most people don't see her at all. Christine was a not a very popular student, not a clever student, in fact she did not even have any friends. She would sit away from all the others, in another table, in another world.
In every class she did not try to improve, or not even try at all. The subjects that I knew she enjoyed was art and music. Her paintings were beautiful, the colors seemed to glide on the paper and was completely original. Her singing was pure, it was soft, not too loud and clear like water.
Christine was a plump girl and had plain, gold, scruffy hair that needed a good brush. She never seemed to get a parent signature in her diary, but got used to the yelling from our teacher. Christine did not talk about her family or her personal life at home. No one had seen her mother, father, or any other siblings. But what I had discovered that Friday afternoon changed my life.
After packing my bag and ready to go home and enjoy the weekend I looked around. The only ones remaining were me and Christine, we were the only ones still packing our bags. I left but over my shoulder I said,"Bye Christine."
"Bye," she mumbled not even looking up. I wondered what was wrong with her, she always ignored everthing. That was when I suddenly remembered I had forgotten my English folder. I rushed back up to the lockers when I heard someone sing. I was still on the stairs and did not know who the lovely voice belonged to. The voice was getting louder as I stepped up. The song was beautiful and her vocals were extroadinary. I peeked around the corner and saw Christine.
The first thing I realised was that this was not Christine. She was wearing a white, silk tunic with her hair neatly set into a bun with a white bow. She wore a dark blue satin sash just above the waist. She was not as plump and her skin was cleaner and clearer. My eyes feasted on the image, Christine not knowing that I was looking. But there was more, gentle wings were set behind her back. The feathers were neatly aligned and white as snow. I then realised something:
Christine was an angel.