Chapter 8 – October 2025

Previously in ‘Heaven, Hell or High School’…

Nuriel is, was, an angel. But now he’s trapped in the body of a 17 year-old guy. It’s God’s idea of tough love to teach Nuriel humility and not to make bets with any demons, especially not Lamia.

Luckily, he has his new friends Forrester and Esther to help him.

But first he has to get used to having a mortal body, a human body…

© Jane Harvey-Berrick

It had been a week, seven human days and nights since I encountered my true mortality for the first time. I wondered what plan God had for me—I felt so weak and unsure, so very human.

But I had friends. Human friends. Friends who were human.

And despite their youth and, well, humanity, I found them surprisingly wise, kind, and honest; also, at times mean, petty and bad tempered. And I embraced all of their perfectly imperfect and flawed humanity.

Forrester had named me ‘Rell’ on my first day and took it upon himself to ‘show me the ropes’ as he put it, although we were not on a sailboat nor could I see ropes of any kind. I was learning that humans liked to talk through elliptical images, their language colorful and inventive, but sadly, too often blasphemous. I did notice that Forrester did his best to restrain this baser side of himself around me, but it was not just him, it was everywhere: they all swore and cursed, even the teachers. But after the third day, I almost stopped noticing it. Almost.

Forrester was my weathervane for how teenage males are supposed to act, although he rejected the most extremes of macho posturing, for which I was thankful.

And as for Esther, well her kindness when she cared for me at the hospital was boundless, and I felt drawn to her warmth in ways that I couldn’t entirely comprehend.

I was confounded by emotion still so new to me, still so hard to manage, but also by humans’ lack of rationality. I felt fear, jealousy, pain, hunger and desire for the first time. I was learning, but it was hard. I was very grateful for my friends.

“There must be a special place in Hell reserved for math teachers,” sighed Forrester, running his hands over his hair in frustration.

“Only the ones who tried to raise Satan through calculus,” I replied.

Forrester busted out laughing but I wasn’t sure why.

“You kill me, man!” he gasped. “You kill me!”

I’d been with humans long enough to know that he wasn’t afraid for his life, but his comment was still puzzling.

Esther simply smiled.

“He just means that math isn’t his favorite subject.”

I was surprised.

“But mathematics is entirely logical and rational—one simply has to follow the rules.”

“Yes,” Esther grinned, shaking her head a little. “But Forrester has a teensy problem with following rules.”

I thought he would be upset by her words, a comment that I would have considered a great calumny, but he simply laughed.

“What can I say? I’m a rebel at heart.”

“Do not wish it!” I said alarmed.

“Ah, come on, Rell. You gotta break a few rules in school—it’s like, kinda, well, it’s pretty much expected … like a rite of passage, or something, yeah?”

I was already shaking my head before he had finished his meandering sentence.

“No, Forrester,” I said insistently. “Rules must be obeyed! Or we are all at risk of chaos!”

“A little chaos is good for ya, brother.”

“Don’t tease him, Forrester,” Esther whispered, casting a glance at Mr Eglon who stood at the front of the classroom, demonstrating partial differentiation, the multivariable chain rule, and Clairault’s theorem quite adequately.

But my thoughts tumbled—Forrester had called me ‘brother’ and something about his words breached the walls I had tried to assemble around myself, protecting me from the many frailties of humanity. But … to feel connection, to be claimed as a brother … his words moved me deeply, making it imperative that he understand that chaos was not to be sought.

“You are wrong, Forrester. Lucifer was the greatest, the brightest of all Father’s angels, but he was full of pride, desiring chaos and rebelling against God in Heaven. He dared, with pride, to test his strength and desires against God. And Lucifer was punished by being banished, falling like lightning from Heaven, and sent to live in Hell with his army for all eternity! No! You must not seek chaos! Do not wish it!”

I felt my pulse begin to race and sweat broke out on my forehead. I felt ill with anxiety that this fate could await my new friend … my self-professed brother.

“Rell, my man! Chill!” said Forrester, his eyes dancing with merriment and a touch of concern. “I’m just saying…”

“Mr Page!” the teacher called out loudly, his face creased with annoyance. “Mr Adams! Perhaps you’d like to share with the class what is so fascinating.”

Forrester waved a hand in the air.

“Nah, that’s okay, man. You carry on.”

Some of my classmates gasped at Forrester’s impudence, but several laughed out loud. I watched with alarm as Mr Eglon’s face turned red then a curious shade of purple, somewhat resembling an eggplant.

“Get out of my classroom!” the teacher seethed. “As your conversation is so important, perhaps you’d like to share it with Principal Evans. Get out! And take Mr Adams with you. Now!”

Sighing, Forrester began to pack his textbooks into his school bag. For a moment, I was frozen in shame until Esther nudged my elbow, waking me from my trance.

Hurriedly, I picked up my books and stood with my head hanging, wondering what punishment awaited us.

I knew from personal experience that God may well see fit to punish us appropriately, but I wasn’t sure what that might be. God disciplined His children through various means—hardships, losses, or ailments, an attack of boils, perhaps—to correct their behavior, to make them more mature, and guide them away from sin. I mean … to guide me away from sin. Sometimes, God simply allows the natural consequences of a human’s sinful actions to take their course. Would I be arrested for our crime of anarchy?

I began to sweat—definitely one of God’s punishments.

In silence, I followed Forrester out of the classroom, Mr Eglon pausing only to hand us each a slip of paper which I presumed we were to give to Principal Evans.

“Sorry about that, bro,” said Forrester as I closed the classroom door behind us. “Sometimes my mouth writes checks that I can’t cash.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I muttered, mortification swirling through my body.

He sighed, but didn’t explain, instead loping down the corridor until he reached Principal Evans’ office where an older woman sat in front of a computer screen.

“Hey, Mrs Mackenzie!” he grinned. “May I say how lovely you’re looking today?”

She shook her head at him but didn’t attempt to hide her smile.

“Uh oh, what did you do now, Mr Page?”

“Just telling my new friend Rell a few home truths about the way life works,” he said expansively.

Mrs Mackenzie turned her kindly gaze to me.

“Ah, you must be the new transferee. Welcome to Red Rock,” she smiled warmly. “But a word of advice, young man, if you want to graduate with the rest of your year, you’ll take Mr Page’s words with a pinch of salt.” She sighed. “Well, go on through, but you won’t find Principal Evans in a very forgiving mood.” She lowered her voice. “He has toothache.”

Forrester winced and nodded, as if in understanding. But I didn’t know how a tooth could ache. Surely only muscles, skin and flesh were so insubstantial as to be subject to the wear and tear of living?

I filed the information away to examine later and followed Forrester into the lion’s den. I was beginning to get the hang of metaphors, although in this case … I shan’t describe the ranting monster I encountered inside that office; I will only offer that I had expected more from a leader of the school, a doyen of learning. I was a divine being—but the principal was talking to me like I had a pissy attitude.

Forrester and I were each punished with a week’s worth of detention for talking in class.

“Coulda been worse,” Forrester muttered as we left the school two hours after everyone else that day.

I was tired, hungry and saddened by this outcome. I felt tarnished to have been so chastised and made a figure of ridicule and punishment.

“Sorry to get you into trouble, bro,” Forrester said sincerely. “I know this is kind of a big deal for you.”

“Yes, the deal is very big,” I nodded sadly. “But I am honored that you consider me your brother.”

He gave me a huge grin then shocked me by punching me in the shoulder. It wasn’t very hard but I stumbled slightly, then realised that I recognized his gesture as one of solidarity. Tentatively, I punched him in the shoulder, too.

His eyes widened, then he started laughing.

“You’re something else, Rell.”

“Yes, I am,” I agreed. “I am truly something else.”

“See you in detention tomorrow, bro.”

“I shall look forward to it,” I said in earnest.

Mulling on this strange day, I mounted my clanking bicycle and rode home, lost in thought.

When potholes overtook the path to my home, I dismounted and walked the rest of the way, pushing the old bicycle.

Anahita was in the front yard, tinkering with several pieces of metal that appeared to have two wheels attached.

“What is that?” I asked, puzzled and intrigued.

“This,” she said happily, “is a 1942 Indian Scout 500—an iconic motorcycle manufactured on this continent. I’m converting it to run on hydrogen—the only emission is water. Humans have had the technology for decades; they just don’t choose to use it.”

I was impressed by her handiwork. Although, of course, Heaven is full of every piece of knowledge in existence; our library is large and without comparison.

“That is odd,” I agreed.

“Very. Humans are exceedingly peculiar.”

“I’m a human now,” I pointed out.

She smiled at me.

“Yes, and you’re very odd.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“That’s what I mean. Sarcasm is saying the opposite of what you mean. That’s odd, don’t you think?”

She was right. I brightened at the realization—I was becoming more human; I was becoming like them. And for the first time, I found that I didn’t mind so much. I had to trust that God had a plan for me … and I was certainly learning more than I could ever have imagined.

“They talk to Him more often than I expected,” I admitted. “Almost every sentence begins with ‘Oh my God’, although I’m not sure some of the things that follow that are … appropriate.”

“Perhaps it’s hormones,” she said philosophically. “The teenage body surges with hormones; it’s bound to make them irrational and quixotic.” She glanced across at me. “You’re late home today.”

“I had to do detention,” I admitted, once again hanging my head in shame.

Anahita cocked her head on one side.

“Fascinating,” she said. “And what happened there?”

“I finished my math homework, my science homework, read War and Peace, and then my friend Forrester gave me this.”

I held up a square packet that gave an oddly pleasing tactile response when squeezed, rather like popping bubble wrap, or so he told me. I could tell that there was something soft and rubbery inside, something circular.

“What is it?” Anahita asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But he said it might be useful.”

“Fascinating! Why don’t you open it?”

I fumbled with the small package, perplexed when I pulled out a somewhat moist, thin rubber tube … or rather … a rubber sock, since one end was closed.

“I believe that is a condom,” said Anahita. “It is placed over the male member to prevent procreation.”

I felt as if a fire of embarrassment had been lit inside me, rushing upwards and heating me from the inside out. I dropped the item on the table, staring at it in horror.

“Oh,” I said, my throat dry. “I’m not sure Our Father would approve,” and I poked the slimy thing, hastily trying to force it back into the packet.

“Condoms aren’t mentioned in the Bible,” said Anahita blithely.

“No,” I replied cautiously, glancing Heavenward, just in case, “but I have heard of these things—they prevent the woman from becoming with child … and intercourse is for the purpose of procreation. The Good Book definitely says that.”

“True. But perhaps you should look on it as practice. Eventually, Esther will want to have children.”

I stood. I stared. I gaped at Anahita.

My mouth worked but no words would come.

How could she think that I would co-mingle with a human? It was an utterly repellent idea.

And yet…

And yet…

I found that I was not utterly repelled by the thought after all.

In fact…

I liked the idea of it.

I could imagine Esther, her belly swollen with child, her skin glowing and luminous.

But then I thought that it would be another man’s seed that filled her, and the thought seemed unbearable.

“Precisely,” nodded Anahita, apparently glad that we’d cleared up the issue. 

My head was still spinning.

“And the Bible is the Word of God,” she added.

“Exactly,” I agreed, realizing what this meant for me and Esther.

“But,” she went on, “it has always been interpreted by men … and only a very few women.”

“What difference does that make?” I asked.

Anahita rolled her eyes. I couldn’t imagine where she’d picked up that habit.

“It makes a big difference! Think about it, Nuriel, God has given Man the pleasure of the orgasm—an experience that you yourself have said is highly desirable.”

She studied me critically.

“Are you blushing?”

“No,” I lied.

My first ever lie. It didn’t feel as bad as I thought it would.

“Hmm, then I think you have sunburn,” she said.

“What’s your point?” I sighed.

“Well,” she said, “you don’t need an orgasm to spill a small amount of your seed into a woman, do you?”

“Um, no. I suppose not.”

“And the woman doesn’t need to orgasm to become with child.”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then why do you think God created orgasms?”

I must admit, I was at a loss.

“For pleasure!” she said, as if I was being particularly dense.

I probably was. I seemed to have dropped an inordinate number of IQ points since becoming human.

“God gave orgasms to humans for sheer pleasure—to make intercourse a more pleasurable experience.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “After all, the act is so ridiculous—your member swelling to allow you to penetrate a female. Really quite ridiculous.”

“Thanks,” I said, a hint of sarcasm in my tone.

“You’re welcome,” she beamed.

Angels don’t do sarcasm—I’d have to remember that.