Purpose

I have a purpose. I mean, I know we all have a purpose but I mean, I have a specific purpose, which is the very reason I am here on Earth. All of my kind has a purpose.

If that sounds cryptic, it's because it's a mystery to me, too. It has yet to be revealed to me. Moreover, I don't know how to talk about something that I've never actually talked about before.

I think the best way to describe what my kind is what you would call angels. There's really no word that's more accurate and even "angel" is pretty inaccurate. But I guess we'll have to settle for "angel".

Some of us are Impulses. Impulses have one task to fulfill like saving someone from a car crash, leaving a book at a table where a specific individual is meant to pick it up, dropping a glass. Impulses are meant to do one task just at the right moment, which would set off the wheels of fate. Most Impulses vanish after and that makes sense because they really only had one purpose and since it was accomplished, Impulses usually have no reason to live on. They're intensely single-minded.

Some of us are Messengers. They are meant to speak something to someone. Maybe it's to inspire someone, deliver a message, or write a letter, a book. Their purpose is to convey something specific that continues to push the world. Messengers can live for a long time or a short time, it really depends on the kind of message they're delivering. Like Ray Bradbury. You wouldn't know it but he's one of us, too, an "angel" if you will. His book, Farenheit 451, influenced many people everywhere but most importantly, it was supposed to inspire an individual who will not yet be named because it is in the Divine Plan and you're not supposed to reveal the Divine Plan. That is, if you even knew it, which most of us don't.

And then there are Guardians. We're meant for a person. Guardians are kind of complicated in that you might be needed for a short time or sometimes, you're meant to be there for a long time, throughout someone's life. Of course, once a Guardian fulfills his or her task (and really, there's no way to really tell if you have. You just know, at some point, that you're done), they live on because they've already built a life here and they may live on if they have a reason to. Like if they have a family, a lover, friends, a job. But you can be a Guardian all your life if you're meant to constantly be a support, a friend, etc. A Guardian's job is the most puzzling because there's really no set guide on how to be a Guardian. Most of the time, I hear, you end up accomplishing it without realizing it, like it's wired into our beings.

Of course, our purposes can change over the course of time.

But we never really know what we are, an Impulse, a Messenger, a Guardian, until we receive our purpose. Being a Guardian sounds like the best option to me, to be pouring a purpose into someone but of course, I need to see my purpose before I know what to do.

And I've been starting to get flashes of mine.

The air suddenly feels thinner and it's like I'm about to faint. Right when I close my eyes, I see the backside of a girl. A cheerleader specifically. She has on one of those cheerleader outfits, red with white and black stripes. It's frustrating because I'm close enough to reach out and yank her, see her face and find out who she is but I never do.

I can feel my lips parting to say her name. Her name is just on the tip of my tongue but… that's when it ends.

"Luce! Come on, get up," Judy pops her head into my room. "You have school."

"You know, Judy, you'd think being angel or whatever would excuse me from this school crap," I mutter into my pillow. "I already can pass high school anyway."

It's not hard for me, especially since I've started getting inklings of my purpose. I'm definitely faster, stronger, smarter, all that supernatural jazz you'd expect from a Twilight novel. Judy says we're wired that way so that we can focus on our purpose without too many obstacles. I always tell her that it's pretty a divine sign that I can stop going to school but she never really listens. She says it's good for me to be among the humans. Humans, she says it like we're totally different species. I guess we are but I forget, especially I'm forced to go to school like any other high school student.

Judy is my mentor. I think it's what most people would consider a mother but we definitely don't have that relationship. She cares for me, of course, and does her best to reveal my destiny and educate me about our nature. I know her purpose transformed and she was assigned a second one: me. She's cryptic, in my opinion. I think most of the time, she's communicating with the Network, which is basically the hub-hub of angel communication. Consider it the social network of angels but not on a computer. It's more like a dimension in your mind. I haven't exactly ventured in it too far, mostly because I'm without purpose so I haven't needed to or wanted to reach out to the Network.

The thing with Judy is that she only answers questions; she won't provide me with any more or any less than what I've asked. My education has been a searching one, as in I search for the right questions to ask to find answers.

"Don't say crap and hurry up," Judy calls as she walks away from my room.

I sigh as I stand up.

And that's when it comes. My breath feels shallow, like the air is thinning. Ribs contracting like there's suddenly too much pressure in the room. Grey dots floating in front of me, my vision fuzzy before everything flashes black. All I can think is this is what death must feel like…

I see her, only her backside again, in the sunset. She's tightening her raven-dark hair, her red cheerleader uniform pristine and crisp. Turn, turn, turn, I will her. I want to see her face but all I can see is her silhouette against the setting sun.

I squint my eyes, trying to lift the haze of the flash. She turns three-quarters, just enough for me to make out the "WMHS" on her uniform. WMHS, where the hell is WMHS?

"Hey, come on!"

The dark-haired girl and I both turn towards the voice. A tall, bubbly blonde is calling her from her car. I curse myself for turning with the dark-haired girl because I miss my chance to catch her face. Instead, I see her backside as she runs towards the car and hops in. She leans in for a hug; I can catch snippets of a sentence. Something "Coach" and "moves".

Just as they drive away, it strikes me to look at the license plate.

It's something with red, white, and blue, in that order. I squint my eyes but the car is moving away too fast. There's small cursive and–

I smack my hand to my forehead. Red, white, and blue license plate, great. We live in America. Reeeeeal helpful, Lucy.

"Judy, I think it's a little clearer now," I sighed as I sat at the table.

"Do you have your notebook?"

I pull out my black moleskin. You should know, in general, I write a lot but this notebook is about my purpose, all the clues and things I can glean from it. The more I know about my purpose, the more I know about me. Like am I messenger? An Impulse? A Guardian?

"Okay, so what happened?" Judy asks, sitting in front of me, sipping her cup of coffee.

"She goes to a high school called 'W-M-H-S'. Has a blonde friend." I'm scribbling the details down furiously before they can escape me. I look up with frustration and complained, "I saw what the license plate looked like but the numbers were too far to see, and the car was moving."

Judy gets up and brings over her laptop. "Okay, well, let's try comparing it to different plate designs. There can't be too many." Her fingers make a clack-clack as she searches.

I watch Judy type away, her eyes focused on the screen. The question that's been on my mind bubbles up before I can even stop it, "What's going to happen once we find out where she is?"

"You're going to go to her."

"How?"

"The plans are already set, Luce, you know that. Things will be taken care of and I've reached out to the Network about your pending purpose." Right, Divine Plan.

The thought of moving somewhere, alone, terrifies me. I have a life here. My friends at school. I do drama club and take part in the school musicals. My teachers like me. And there's Emma, my best friend.

"Do I have to?" I already know the answer before she even responds with that knowing look. I sigh, "I know, I know."

If I wasn't meant to save this girl, I think I'd resent her a lot. My kind has two heartbeats. One is your normal human heart that pulses and sends blood to and fro. The other is our Divine Heart. It has to do with our purpose. And I want to resent this raven-haired girl who would rip me from the fabric of my life but I can't; I can feel the Divine heartbeat that calls me to her, to appear to her as she needs me. It's nice to be needed.

Judy pushes the laptop in front of me before any more resentment can build up. "Here. Scroll through and see if anything looks familiar." She leans back, pleased that she can help, clearly.

It's not a California license plate, I know that. I live in Los Angeles and even though we play the license plate game a lot, the only one I can actually remember is the one I grew up looking at. It sure as heck (because "hell" isn't the best word for us to use) not familiar.

"It's not Alabama or… Montana…" I quickly scroll through the list. "Not California, New York or Jersey."

And then I see it. I stab my finger at the screen and exclaim, "Ohio!"

Judy comes over to my side, her cup in her hand, weighing this new information in her mind. "There can't be that many high schools with those initials. I'll research this while you're at school today."

Things are moving too fast all of the sudden. "Wait, what does that mean?"

Judy looks at me, her eyes a little sad. "It means you'll be leaving. Immediately. Your purpose's location is only revealed to you when you're meant to go there. It may not always be clear but you're supposed to be on your way."

I freeze and slowly ask a question with possibly a terrifying answer, "Am I going… alone?"

She nods.

"I don't have money, a house, or guardians. What if I need signatures for stupid field trips and stuff?" I ask frantically, thinking of all the ways that I could die if I were dropped off at Ohio alone.

Judy laughs, "I told you those things will be taken care of. I'll technically be your official guardian so I'll sign those things. The Network's money will supply you with more than enough money, luxuries, and all those things." The Network, by the way, is loaded. It's what happens when you have a secret society of individuals who are all powerful, brilliant, talented and also contributing money almost all the time.

"What will happen to you?"

"I'll be mentoring someone else," Judy replies but quickly reassures me as I feel horror creep into my expression. "I'll still be available to you and will answer your questions. Anything you need, the Network will provide And these things will be taken care of, I promise."

My friends ask me what's wrong all day. My teachers ask me if I feel sick. They're not used to seeing me anxious. And when I'm anxious, I don't know what to say so I end up staying silent. It's a relief when the school day is finally over and I can go home.

"Luce!" I turn to find Emma running to me. She runs straight into me, crashing into me as her way of hugging me, "Wanna grab coffee later instead of running?"

I scrunch up my face, practically tasting the bitter residue of coffee on my tongue. "You know I don't like coffee."

"I know," Emma grins. "But there's a new café I want to try and I checked: they serve really good tea. Just for you," she winks, making me blush.

Emma Reese is kind of a heartbreaker, if you couldn't tell. She's tall and fit, like all of our track team. Her legs are toned in that way that makes you feel guilty for every donut you've ever even thought of. We run together almost every day, we hang out way too much, probably.

Strawberry blonde hair with freckles. It's not like I have a particular type but I'd say I like strawberry-blonde with freckles. The thing about extraordinarily gorgeous people is that it's much like unattractive people; after awhile, you forget about how they look and they just look normal. Sometimes, I forget though, like now, when she appears really suddenly and unexpectedly. Then I see her like everyone else does: that California runner, her almost-red hair set ablaze in the sunlight.

When the blush finally fades, I reply.

"I can't," I sigh. "I have some stuff to deal with at home."

Her excitement immediately melts away into concern. "Are you okay? What's wrong at home?"

"Nothing," I poke a finger into her cheek to make her grin. When she flashes her grin in response, I call, "But I'll catch you later!" I spin and jump off the last steps. When I turn back to wave bye, I notice a particular expression on her face. Emma looks at me with a certain intensity I noticed only recently.

Emma once told me that she loves my hair in the sunset light, that there's a particular glow about it. I told her it comes with the territory of being blonde. She reached out and touched my blonde hair, feeling how fine it is between her fingers. I felt nervous, having her stare at me so intensely, like she wanted to say something but didn't know if there were really words for it.

She has that same look when she's watching me rehearse my songs. She perches her chin on her palms and lets me serenade her. Sometimes, when she can't sleep at night she'll call me and ask me to sing to her. I've sang quietly to her at four in the morning more times than I can remember.

I waggle my fingers as I head to my car.

"Judy!" I call out as I slip in through the door. "I'm home!"

Two steps into the house and I feel it. The air thinning…

"Hey, come on!" I hear the blonde's voice again.

I'm closer this time. The dark-haired girl is already halfway in the car and I'm right next to her open window. I can see the blonde's face but not the girl. It's frustrating enough that I want to pound on the car door to get her attention, make her look at me.

"Sorry to make you wait, Santana. Coach Sylvester wanted me to teach Riley moves. I don't know why she makes me do it. I know Riley already hates me," the blonde said sadly, her big blue eyes casted down.

Santana.

Finally, a name.

Santana.

"Santana." I whisper it to myself, feeling her name on my tongue.

Like she heard me, she turns and glances out the window, looking straight at and through me.

She's gorgeous. I mean, I live in LA so I've seen my fair share of gorgeous but wow. Her dark eyes are striking, almost too intense to look directly into. A perfect shade of caramel skin, with high cheekbones, full lips. There's something real and intense about her.

She turns back away, toward her friend. "It's because you're the best, Brittany," Santana smiled gently, trying to reassure her friend. Just as I consider how incredibly sweet it is, the way that Santana is looking at Brittany, her words and gestures, her expression hardens unexpectedly, her next words just as unexpected. "And if Riley gives you shit about anything, I'll go all Lima Heights on her." Her voice is laced with venom.

I'm suddenly back, still standing in the doorway. Judy, who wasn't there before, is looking at me from the hallway, patiently waiting.

I grin, "Her name is Santana. Santana. But… she doesn't seem to need my help? What am I to her?" I send a questioning look at Judy.

"Guardian," Judy replies simply. I suspect she's known all along and waited to tell me at the right moment. "You are to be her Guardian."

Guardian, I like the ring of that.

And that's when I see it, a neat stack of books in an open suitcase, just off to the side of the hallway. On top are shiny cards, something like…. an Ohio driver's license.

"What is that?" I point a shaky finger, backing away and stepping back out the door.

Judy shook her head, "I told you we have to move fast. Your purpose is coming."

Emma crosses my mind, filling me with panic. I breathe out, "But it's too soon. I have school, friends. I'm supposed to be singing in the school musical, you know that. I'm not ready."

"You are." To Judy, it's simple. Fulfill your purpose. It's more complicated when you're a teenager who has to leave all her friends. When there's someone you like.

But I have no choice. Even as I feel resentful of this Santana girl, there's a powerful force that calls me to her. It's a magnetic tug that I couldn't resist even if I tried. So I don't try.

"Let me say one goodbye at least, please," I ask quietly. "And then I'll go."

Judy nodded, knowing where I was going to go.

"What?! Why?!" Emma's horrified expression reflects my own. I dragged her out to buy her that cup of coffee and I told her as we were walking home, our paper cups in hand. It's the least I could do, considering the bomb I was about to drop on her.

My own horror has settled to sadness and submission.

"I have to," I try to explain without really explaining what I am and what I have to do. "I didn't even know until I came home today and–" I stumble on my words, remembering, to everyone else, Judy is my mom. "My mom had my stuff packed for me."

"When are you leaving?" Emma looked her cup like it could tell her the answers.

"Tomorrow morning. Everything's been taken care of." I realized how much I sounded like Judy. "I even have a house there already. They enrolled me in William McKinley High School. I'll be in Ohio," I scoffed, trying to make her laugh at how different it will be at a high school in Ohio.

For the rest of the way to Emma's house, she's silent. I don't know what to make of it. I want to cry and yell; I want her to cry and yell. Scream it's unfair.

As we reach the steps, she's still silent. "I'm sorry," I blurt out, even though I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for.

When she looks at me, I see a thin film of tears. The world seems louder, brighter, vivid when she's staring at me.

Just as I want to say goodbye, trying to leave before I feel the sorrow of leaving settle in, her hands drop the cup and reach around the back of my neck.

Before I realize what's happening, her lips are on mine, strawberry-blonde hair making a curtain in front of me.

I can taste mango lip balm and the salt of her tears. She whispers against my lips, "I'm going to miss you." Emma lets go of me, staring into my eyes like it's the last time she's going to see me. I can see my own green eyes tearing up, reflected in her glistening eyes.

I lean in and kiss her briefly once more before I spin on my heel and run. I run because if I didn't, I'd never leave. If I didn't leave, the balance in the universe would be upset because I didn't fulfill my purpose. And God knows what consequences that would have.

So I go to my purpose.

But as I leave my house, board a plane, fly across the country, and drop my bags in an empty house, much too large for just me, I taste her mango lip balm and for the first time, feel resentful of my purpose. Profanity isn't really approved considering our nature but all I can think is, Damn Santana.

A/N: This is just a story that was inspired by a whole mess of books. I'm not sure if I'll continue the story but I figured I would put it out there. Enjoy!