"Skateboards," Ambriel repeated. He had seen those. They seemed to be invariably accompanied by boys with longer hair and pants in need of belts. What use would he have of a skateboard? "And other races." Ambriel was not sure if that bothered him. Was he supposed to be an ambassador of angels? He was not sure if he was suited for that. How much of an angel was he, if he had no knowledge of Heaven?
"The dance," he repeated, a touch of darkness in his voice, "the dance I will not attend. There is wilful misbehavior there, an evening full of it. I can't believe the Headmistress allows it." The Headmistress, a stern, seemingly reasonable woman, but Ambriel thought she was far too lax.
"But," he said, his features softening, a touch of hope in his voice, "I would like to see this chapel."