Bright lights and loud music greeted the people who came to the party. The hosts were too drunk to know up from down. Mingling in the crowds were the smells of sweat, vomit, and cheap beer. The partygoers seemed to move as one to the snack table as each song ended.

Elisa Simmons was getting a headache. This was definitely not the party her best friend Amanda had promised. There was nothing to eat but chips and beer and nothing to do but avoid drunk guys. She'd had enough. She stood from the flowered sofa she'd been sitting on the edge of and was immediately absorbed into the dancing crowd. Hands were grabbing her, wanting to dance. She pushed them away and headed out to find Amanda.

She found her sitting on a sofa locking tongues with a boy Elisa had never seen before. "Amanda, c'mon," Elisa said, leaning way too close so she could talk.

"Oh, this waz just startin' to get intrestin'." Amanda's words came out in a drunken slur and the stench of beer on her breath almost knocked Elisa over.

"No," Elisa demanded, "we're going now!" Her words came with the sharpness of a blade and cut through Amanda's drunkenness enough that she could comprehend that Elisa meant business.

"OK." Amanda's voice cracked and came out as more of a giggle. "I'll drive." Amanda held up car keys and started laughing at a joke only she had heard.

Elisa grabbed Amanda's arm and pulled her out the front door, where the cool fresh air that hit them was like the breath of an angel on Elisa. It wasn't as nice for Amanda. Elisa held Amanda's hair out of the way while she threw up by some bushes, narrowly missing a couple who were too drunk to notice them. When she was done she leapt up and staggered toward her car.

"No!" Elisa shouted, and ran toward Amanda. "You can get it in the morning. We're walking!"

Amanda responded by passing out on the lawn. Elisa dragged her over and put her in her car, locking the door, That would keep her safe until she was sober again.

Elisa started walking. She would go to her grandparents' house. It was only a half mile from this party and she didn't think she could make it to her apartment safely. It was after midnight and this wasn't the best neighborhood.

Elisa heard a rumble of thunder and could feel raindrops hit her cheeks. The rain was like a warm shower to her, washing away the stench of the party. Still she pulled her gray hoodie closer around her and walked faster. Then she heard the sirens. Must be the police coming to break up the party, she thought, and wondered how many of the people had been under age. Amanda certainly was. Elisa wondered if she should go back and hide Amanda from the cops, but then she'd be an accessory to a crime. She had worked hard to keep her record clean and wasn't going to let this screw it up. Amanda made her own decision. She's been drunk before and has been arrested before. She has to learn from her mistakes and take the consequences. Still, Elisa felt guilty for abandoning her friend.

The rain was making the streets slippery and she was losing visibility. I need to get home fast, Elisa thought, or I'm gonna catch a cold or get lost or something. She sneezed and shivered from the rain. Granma makes the best chicken noodle soup in the world. If I do get a cold that will be the place I want to be.

Elisa stepped into the road and began to cross. Then she saw headlights. Her pace quickened but she knew she had the right of way so she wasn't worried. As the car approached her it didn't slow down. She began to run but it was too late. With a burst of speed, the car shot through the crosswalk. Its front bumper connected with her body. She was thrown through the air and hit the pavement with a sickening crack.

She was dead before she hit the ground. The drunken driver got out to see what he had hit and, seeing nothing, stumbled back to his car. he drove off, leaving Elisa's body to be found by police in the morning and leaving the police with the sad job of informing the relatives.

Mr. Picksworth was roused from a comfortable sleep by an insistent pounding. As he cleared his mind from sleep he realized that the noise was coming from his front door. He pulled a robe over his pajamas and made his way out of his bedroom to the door, slipping on slippers on the way. He opened the door and found himself face to face with two grave-faced policemen.

"Officers, is there a problem?" Mr. Picksworth was surprised.

"Are you Mr. Arthur Picksworth?" the taller of the two responded.

"Yes," Mr. Picksworth answered. "Why?"

"Mr. Picksworth, last night at 12:35 your granddaughter Elisa was walking home after a party. She was hit by a drunk driver and killed. We have apprehended the driver."

Mr. Picksworth was in shock. "Elisa," he whispered in disbelief. The police saw pain fly across his withered face. "Th-thank you, officer. Yes, I uh--" he stopped in mid sentence.

"We're very sorry to have to tell you this, sir. We know how hard it must be for you. We'll leave you alone."

"Yes, thank you," Mr. Picksworth murmured, and quietly shut the door. There he stood for half an hour, unmoving. When he finally did move, it was to the basement, where he entered a bright room full of stone slabs and statues. Mr. Picksworth was a master stonecraftsman. People loved his work, saying his statues seemed to be so lifelike they could hardly believe they were made of stone. He dragged out a huge slab of marble he'd been saving for something special, picked up a hammer and chisel, and started to chip away.

A year later, the mayor cut the ribbon on The Haven, a new outdoor mall downtown. In the center of The Haven's main fountain stood a tall marble angel. She had long flowing hair, a thin figure and tall graceful wings floating out of her back. She was the exact image of Elisa, minus the wings. But the most magnificent part of her was her fingernails. They were made of diamond. Each fingernail was worth over $1,000.

A plaque near the statue read, Elisa Simmons, 1983-2003. Stop drunk driving.

Everyone who came to the mall loved the angel. Some came just to see her. She seemed to be alive, to look down on people with a gentle, loving smile.

The next autumn, when the mall's fountain was shut off but it was not cold enough yet to freeze the water, a teenaged boy named Brian Davis sneaked into the mall around 12:30 p.m. He needed a get-rich-quick solution to his money troubles. So he brought simple tools with him and very carefully and quietly pried off the angel's fingernails until all ten were gone.

He'd just seen the security guard go past on his rounds, so he wasn't scared of being caught, it was just that as he worked he felt as if the angel was watching him. He looked back. Was it just a trick of the light or was she glaring at him? As soon as he had the fingernails in his pocket he left very quickly.

Throughout the next day Brian acted very jumpy, and kept looking over his shoulder. His family was sort of worried, but he told them he was just tired because he'd stayed up late studying. His mother was surprised, but pleased. Usually he spent all his time thinking about football. Brian was captain of the football team, and the coach must have told him he had to get his grades up.

At school, Brian went straight to his friend Michael's locker. Michael was there chatting with a friend. Brian waited until the other boy was gone, then leaned in close to Michael. "Did you see the news this morning?"

Michael said, "Yeah. So?"

Brian said, "Oh, nothing. I just missed it is all. I overslept. What was the lead story?"

"You know that angel statue at the mall? Some moron pulled off its diamond fingernails. The police said they didn't know who it was yet, but had some leads."

Brian paused, then said, "Some moron?" He leaned in closer. "That was me. Think Britney, that head cheerleader, will go out with me if I've got more money than she ever dreamed of? I bet she'll drop Chris in a second when she sees me flashing hundred dollar bills!"

"Cool. Make sure you pay off that CD you owe me."

That night as Brian lay down he was very pleased with himself for what he had done earlier. Now he could buy a hot new car and get a stereo for his room. In his mind he'd done so well he was considering doing bigger thefts, like a bank. If it was this easy to get money. . . .

As he was just drifting off, dreaming of the millions of dollars he would steal when he was older and all the things he could buy with it, he heard the front door creak open. He checked his clock. It said 12:33 p.m. Who would be coming in at this hour? It certainly wasn't his father. His dad worked nights, but today was his day off.

Suddenly it occurred to him--it was probably his best friend Michael, who Brian had bragged to about the angel. Michael was probably trying to steal his diamond angel fingernails. Brian decided he would crouch down by the door, and then jump and out and surprise Michael when he came into his room. Brian could hear Michael coming up the stairs. He was walking heavily, as if they were carrying something big.

But what was that other sound? Was it . . . water dripping? Why would there be water dripping? Was a faucet leaking? The plumbing in the house was brand new. And if it was a faucet leaking, why hadn't he heard it before?

Now Brian could hear Michael coming down the hall, and he was sure he heard water dripping, louder now. Crouched by the door, he got ready to spring. Wouldn't Michael be surprised!

He got up on his toes as the door slowly opened. . . .

The police came to the house the next morning, summoned by Brian's mother's frantic phone call. They offered their apologies to Mrs. Davis, scratching their heads and wondering how her son had sleepwalked to the bathtub, and drowned in his sleep. She stood in his bedroom as emergency personnel swarmed the hall and bathroom. Brian's room had always been messy, but it looked worse than usual today. Had he been up all night studying again, tried to wake himself up with a bath, and fallen asleep in the tub? How could this have happened?

As the police were leaving the Davis house, the news came on the television, which had been blaring unheard since before Mrs. Davis had called the police. She slumped onto the sofa, her hands over her tear-reddened eyes.