by Judi Calhoun
News about Joey Miller traveled around school at the speed of light. They said he had been in a knife fight, attacked by Big Foot, a werewolf, a vampire (close). I even heard someone say he was the victim of a terrorist attack.
Supposedly, he lost his legs, his arms, his head, anything and everything but the truth. Even if they heard the truth, they wouldn’t believe it. Who would believe that Joey Miller had survived an attack from a twelve-foot demon?
Outside third-period History, I spied Nate drawing something on Gabby’s cast. She was smiling, listening to what he said, like they’d been lovers forever. It was going to take me a long while to get used to the idea of seeing the two of them together as a couple.
Lately, Gabby and I hadn’t had much time to talk. Today it was the same story. She headed off to Drama, and I went to lunch alone.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the cafeteria was a smoky mist gathering around the ceiling lamps, as if there had been a fire… in the kitchen?
There was something very wrong going on here. The room was stifling with Underworld poison. I could sense it, smell it, that old familiar sulfur alerting the Slayer inside me that demons were near by.
I could see them because I was a Slayer. They were invisible to everyone else in the lunchroom. Ian’s evil student body government…his spies…sitting unnaturally still, at a table in the corner. Like Nate said, MIBs. They may have been dressed in black, but they were not men. That was for sure.
This was the first time I’d seen them all together in one place. What freaky thing were they up to? My best guess was that this was another sign of Ian’s dominion, and a play to weaken my power against it. Their eyes locked onto mine. I sneered back, not letting on how vulnerable I was feeling… naked…exposed, as I slid past their watchful eyes.
I snatched up a salad and a bottle of water and dropped down on the bench across from Nate.
“Where’s Jake?”
“Principal’s office,” Nate said frowning.
“When did he get called down?” I asked.
“Ten minutes ago,” David snapped. “What’s so important?”
“I…I was just wondered how Joey was doing?”
Nate huffed in disgust. “Don’t pretend you care about him. We know the truth.”
Was I crazy or were the Cross brothers in a really bad mood?
“I do care,” I said, getting a little annoyed by his accusation.
Now I wondered what Jake might have said to them. Maybe he’d told them how disappointed he was in me because of how it all went down at the cemetery. Here, with his friends I felt like a pariah.
The entire table on my left erupted in screams and fighting, a crescendo of glass breaking, voices yelling…madness. Hatred stunk like old socks. That scent seemed to fizz in the atmosphere, catching everyone like a virus.
Ms. Summer, my guidance counselor, attempting to stop a fight, hooked Susan’s arm. Tina swung. Susan ducked. Tina’s fist got Ms. Summer in the chest. I gasped, watching her fall as the girls just stepped over her and continued their fight.
Jake came storming in and stopped for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. “Something evil…” he said, barely audible.
I stared at him, feeling such resentment. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
He slammed his fist on the table. “Mr. Corbet just gave me detention for the next two days!”
“Why?” I asked. At least he was speaking to me.
“He claimed I was shooting hoops off lights in the hall. It’s my fault they’re all broken.”
“You did that?” I asked.
“NO!” he shouted. “Now I have detention for nothing!”
“I told you he was evil,” I said. “That’s why I need to get him away from Mom.”
“Oh yeah, right, I forgot. It’s always about you, isn’t it, Princess?” His face twisted with a sarcastic sneer. “You and your little family problems.”
A tingling sensation started at the top of my skull, and like a frenzied swarm of locusts rapidly devouring my mind and nervous system, I became filled with rage. Fight it! I needed to listen to my inner counsel. I gave in to the toxic antagonism. That was my first mistake.
“So you are angry with me. I knew it.”
“Yeah, I am,” he snapped. “Joey got hurt. Are you happy about that? He could die. It’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it, to get rid of him?”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me? Do you seriously think I am happy that Joey got hurt? If you do, then you’re insane! Let me remind you, Jake, it was your stupid idea to bring him along in the first place. It’s not my fault that he didn’t listen and stay in the woods. It’s yours! If you want to be mad at someone, look in the mirror.”
He glared at me like I was some demon he wanted to kill. “Why don’t you do us all a big favor and get lost.”
I leaned closer, the fire of hatred burning in my throat, a horrid, awful fury. “Poor Mr. Perfect can’t handle hearing the truth. You think you have all the answers don’t you? You think you can fix the world’s problems…well guess what buddy? You can’t! You are nothing more than an overzealous, prideful jerk. Oh, and don’t worry.” I held up my hand. “I’m leaving, I am so out of here.” I stood fast, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. I seized my salad, dumped the entire contents into the trash, clearing the doors, I sprinted down the hall.
As I unlatched my locker door, the floodgate opened up. I wept. I swayed, lolling my head against the gray metal door, knowing it was over. I’d just lost Jake. When I finally stopped crying…a bleak vacuum cut wide open inside my chest. It hurt worse than any demonic venom.
After a few moments, I fished a crumpled napkin from my pocket and wiped my eyes, feeling so lost and hopelessly damaged. I shoved books and papers into my locker, slammed the door shut, and headed for Calculus. I paused outside the door for a moment to calm myself before stepping inside.
To my relief, there were only two people in their seats. I slid into mine, across from Amanda Shapiro, and opened my bag to look for my assignment folder, the same folder that contained Binco’s picture. The yellow folder was not in my bag. Where is it? I searched through all my papers, finding nothing.
It was gone! In a panic, I turned my bag upside down and poured everything out on my desk. After a few minutes, I realized I did not have it. The file must have fallen out, but where? I searched the floor under Amanda’s seat.
“Have you seen...?” I started to ask. She sneezed loudly. Her eyes and nose were Christmas red, her face pale as snow.
“Are you sick?” I asked. A dumb question, of course she was.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Annoyance hit me, a leftover emotion from lunch. “Why are you in school?”
Her face puckered up as if she were going to cry, but instead, she tossed her head back and violently jerked forward, sneezed, not even bothering to cover her mouth or her nose.
Ew!
“You really are sick.”
This gave me an idea. I needed to retrace my steps and find my lost folder. I’d either dropped it in the hall, or it was still inside my locker.
“Do you want me to take you to the nurse’s office?” I asked.
She wiped her nose and gave a weak nod.
At that moment Ms. Melanson, our tall, tanned teacher with short, straight, black hair, came into the room. She glanced around and asked where everyone was. The rear door swung open and a chaos of students squeezed all at once through the narrow entry, rushing to take there seats…all late.
I raised my hand. “Ms. Melanson, Amanda is sick. Can I take her to the nurse?”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied Amanda, then swiftly tore a hall pass from her desk pad, her lips curling up in disgust as she dropped the signed pink slip on my desk. “Try to hurry back.”
When we got into the empty hall, my eyes feverishly searched the floor. Maybe someone had kicked it or trampled on it, or tossed it in the trash. Maybe someone had turned it in at the office
and our principal had it… I shuddered at that thought.
Before we reached the main office, Amanda sneezed twice into her hand and once on me. “I’m sobby,” she said, blowing her nose.
I flashed my hall pass at the woman behind the desk. She motioned for us to go in.
A strong disinfectant smell assaulted my nostrils. I froze. Here came the queasiness and sweaty palms. I hated the fact that my body betrayed me with these stupid phobias. I forced myself into the room, pushing Amanda ahead of me.
The twelve-square foot room was filled with students sitting or laying on cots, obvious victims of the Cafeteria madness. Two freshmen boys had blood-smeared faces. Another held a compress to his eye. In spite of my nausea, I chuckled. I could not help it. The scene struck me as funny, very funny.
“What do we have here?” asked Mrs. Wilton, a small woman with black hair and glasses. She never smiled, but she was always kind to me.
“Amanda has a virus, I think.”
She directed Amanda to an empty seat and shoved a thermometer in her mouth.
“You may go back to class.” She waved me toward the door.
I left, eager to distance myself from that disinfectant. My stomach started feeling better, but my head hurt for some unknown reason.
“Hey, what are you doing out of class?” I turned to see an evil, satisfied grin on Ian’s face. He thought he had me for sure. Could my day get any worse?
I flashed him my hall pass, “I was taking Amanda to the nurse’s office.”
“Amanda couldn’t go by herself?” he asked sarcastically. “Naturally, you offered to take her. Anything to get out of class, am I right?”
What is he implying? Does he think I’m looking for an excuse to fail? No, my excuse was to search for my folder.
“She was sick,” I said, “very weak.”
On top of the headache, the smell of demon was making me physically ill.
“Um...Ian.”
“Mr. Corbet,“ he corrected, pulling himself up taller, and placing his right hand on his hip. “In school you’ll address me correctly. Is that understood, Shonna?”
“Oh right...Mr. Corbet,” I said icily. “I need to get back to class before I miss something important. You would not want me to fail, would you? After all, I might embarrass you in front of your entire staff.”
Ian’s eyes stabbed me like a knife, as if he could kill me right now and enjoy it. I wasn’t intimidated. I was feeling the same way.
“You know, you’re always such a little trouble-maker. I should give you a month’s detention right now.” He raised his arm like he was going to backhand me.
My mouth fell open. “For what?” I asked, knowing I’d done nothing wrong.
“Disrespecting a school administrator. That would look good on your school record, now wouldn’t it? Perhaps I should add skipping class to that list. I think I’ll do that when I get back to the office.”
Anger raised its ugly head. I held it together though, rather than yielding to its power and giving him something else to use against me. He was enjoying himself watching me squirm. A slight smile crept at the corners of his mouth.
Suddenly I noticed what was in his other hand. My folder! “The... that’s my homework!” I stammered.
It was easy to recognize my writing hand-printed across the front. He started to open it but hesitated. “I found it by your locker,” he said in a cool tone. “Did you think you could get away with this?”
I swallowed dryly unable to tear my eyes off the folder. The yellow folder that was filled with evidence linking him to Binco, evidence I’d planned to show mom and convince her that Ian was a Familiar Spirit bent on destroying our family, was in his hand.
I thought about grabbing it and running, but what if he had opened it already, and had discovered what I was trying to do. I knew mom would side with him. It would be all over. I’d be lucky if she’d ever speak to me after this. I would be locked in my room, or worse, some dungeon, if Ian had his way. They’d tell me it was for my own good.
“You think I’m stupid, Shonna? You think I don’t know what you’re up to?”
My adrenaline spiked. He’s already looked. He knows everything; it’s already too late! My mind raced, thinking. What is Plan B? What did Jake say? My brain shut down, and now I had no idea how to get out of this mess and on top of that, I couldn’t speak.
“You think you can use the excuse that you lost your homework, that your teachers will just let you slide because of me? Because I’m marrying your mother?”
Slowly it began to dawn on me. He hadn’t seen the photo! Ian didn’t know what he was holding. Now, I had to give a convincing performance. Not give anything away. I forced my eyes to look at him, not my folder, and I tried to keep that same level of arrogance in my voice. “You want to give it back to me? Or were you planning on turning in my assignment for me?” I said holding out a shaky hand.
For a moment, his eyes shifted between the folder and my trembling hand, as if he suspected me of hiding something. He moved it to his other hand and opened it. In mechanical fashion, he slowly turned the first page, glancing at its contents and then back to me. Silence. The weight of dread and fear hung like an executioner’s noose in front of me.
He studied my face with suspicious eyes. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d have something else bad to tell your mother about me.” He closed the cover. “I’ll let you go this time with a warning, but I’d better not catch you out of class again, understood?” He waited for me to nod before he handed it over. I took it and hugged it to my chest.
“Go on, get out of here. You don’t want to miss class.”
I turned, glancing back at his smug face before speeding off down the hall. I ran into class and fell into my seat. With shaking hands, I opened the cover. On top sat my homework assignment. I thumbed to the next two pages, and relief washed over me; next to the last piece of paper was the photo of Art Binco.
Now, I had the evidence back in my possession, handed to me by the very man I was going to bury with it. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all. A stab of pain hit my throat, and I started to sneeze.
* * *
Chapter 18