Curse of the Evil Librarian

by Michelle Knudsen

  “You’re fine. Stay still.”

  “I bet I smell like demon spider and plant monster.”

  “Mmmm. Sounds delicious.”

  “It’s not! It’s gross! Ugh, maybe I can sneak into the gym showers and wash off.”

  “Will you be quiet? I’m trying to enjoy this no-doubt very brief time we have to spend together alone before the next round of crazy begins.”

  “Okay. Sorry.” But I only last a few seconds before asking, “Ryan?”

  He sighs. “Yes?”

  “You need to stop fighting with Peter.”

  “Okay, I really don’t want to talk about him right now.”

  “I know. But it’s important. We’re all on the same side, you know? And . . . well, this last argument didn’t really turn out so well, did it?”

  Ryan is quiet a moment. “No. It didn’t. I’m sorry about that. But . . . but I still don’t trust him, Cyn. And I kind of hate that you do.”

  I sit up and twist around to face him.

  “Listen to me, Ryan Halsey. I love you. I only want to be with you. I told Peter this, just so you know. And . . . okay, this is awkward to say, but . . . well, he could have killed you a thousand times over by now if he were going to. I know you guys don’t get along, but it’s not because he’s a bad guy. He’s one of the good ones. He sacrificed a lot to try to help us, you know.”

  “To help you,” Ryan mutters.

  “Yes, fine, to help me. Because he cares about me. Because he’s my friend. And part of caring about me is helping me to protect what I love, which is why he went back to the terrible demon world that he swore he’d never return to in order to help me try to save you. It’s kind of a big deal. And you being a dick to him is not only supremely unhelpful but also kind of ridiculously ungrateful.”

  Ryan doesn’t say anything. But after a moment he pulls me back into place against him.

  “I’m not asking you to be his best friend,” I say. “Just try to act like we’re all on the same team, okay?”

  “Team Cyn,” he says, and it sounds like he’s smiling a little. “If we get team jerseys, I totally get first pick of numbers.”

  “No way. If it’s Team Cyn, then I totally get first pick. You can be next, though.”

  “Fine. But Peter chooses last.”

  I laugh. “Deal.”

  “Deal.”

  After that we reluctantly get up. Leon waves enthusiastically at us as we leave the library. Everything feels very surreal. And the fact that real life feels surreal because it’s not the demon world is an entirely whole new level of screwed up.

  We walk down the hall toward where we will need to part ways to head to our respective homerooms.

  “Hey,” I say, “at least you didn’t have to miss a voice lesson.”

  Ryan laughs a bitter laugh that I don’t like one bit. “Like it matters.”

  “Hey!” I stop and pull him around to face me. “It totally matters. What the hell?”

  “Does it? Do you really think we’re going to make it through this and everything’s going to be all right?”

  “Yes,” I say fiercely. “Yes I do, goddammit. Otherwise what the hell are we doing? We might as well roll over and give up right now.”

  He doesn’t look at me.

  “Hey,” I say again. I take his chin and gently turn his head toward mine. “Don’t you give up on me. No giving up, remember? Especially not now, after all we’ve been through. This is the last of it! We’re going to get that curse off you, and then we’re going to kill Mr. Gabriel once and for all. And then we’re going to come back here and you’re going to be the best Javert ever in the history of Les Misérables.”

  He half smiles at that. “Not if I don’t get some time to practice in between all the demon stuff.”

  “You find time, my love. Oh, my God — think about how terrible you’ll feel if you give up too soon and then we win and you come back fully alive and fine but then freaking Jeff gets your part because you weren’t preparing adequately for callbacks! Think about how much that would totally suck. Plus, your girlfriend would be super pissed at you if you let that happen, and trust me, that would not be something that made your life better.”

  We’d started walking again at some point, but now we stop at the end of the hallway where we have to go our separate ways. Other kids are wandering through the halls now, too. It really is just a regular day for all of them. It’s still so hard to get my head around that.

  “You make some excellent points,” Ryan concedes, kissing the back of my hand. “I will ponder them further while I go through the motions of this day while really waiting for my archrival to figure out how to get us back down to the demon prison so we can pick up where we left off in the underworld.”

  “Now you’re talking,” I tell him. “But don’t cancel your voice lesson, in case we’re still here after school.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He kisses my hand again, then pulls me closer and kisses my forehead, and then my lips. And then he’s gone, before I’ve had nearly enough of him. But it’s okay, because there will be time for all of that. Because Peter is going to get us back down there in time to save Ryan from the curse. And then we’ll destroy Mr. Gabriel, somehow, before he has a chance to take Annie and kill me. It’s all going to work out. Absolutely.

  I decide to skip homeroom and sneak into the gym so I can get that quick shower and maybe change into whatever gym clothes are sitting in my locker. Now that I’m aware of how disgusting I am, I can’t bear to spend one more second than I have to in this filth. As I do these things, I mentally run through my day and try to figure out whether Annie or I will see Leticia and Diane first and what the best way to succinctly fill them in will be, without unduly alarming them or making them feel like they should try to come back with us. And then I try to remember if I have any quizzes or anything today that I obviously didn’t study for. I imagine a calculus test interrupted by a giant flower monster bursting into the room and eating up all the test papers with its cute gerbera daisy face, and I smile despite myself. My life is insane.

  Peter shows up again at lunch. We all sit down at an empty table together — Annie, Leticia, Diane, Ryan, Peter, William, and me. I suddenly realize I am starving, which makes sense given how long it’s been since we last ate anything. Terror must have been suppressing my appetite until now.

  I am in my gym T-shirt, a purple hoodie, and a pair of yoga pants, feeling much cleaner and less disgusting. Peter also looks a lot cleaner than he did. Annie and Ryan haven’t changed their clothes, but Ryan is making his slightly scuffed-up look work for him, and Annie wasn’t nearly as dirty as the rest of us to begin with.

  Leticia, Diane, and William have already been brought up to speed individually, but now that we’re all together, there seem to be a million more questions from all quarters. Peter has confirmed that he can make our teachers believe that we were all present and accounted for yesterday, which is one less thing to worry about, at least. Leticia and Diane already covered for Annie and me with our parents, having faked an emergency study-sleepover, and Jorge did the same for Ryan (possibly using some other excuse). But Peter’s still working on the details of how we’re going to get back down to the prison.

  “So you’re just, like, going to keep going about your day?” Leticia asks, not for the first time.

  “I know,” I say. “It’s crazy. But . . . well, Peter’s right. I mean if we survive all of this, we are going to want to be able to come back and start living our regular lives again, aren’t we?”

  “When you survive,” Diane corrects me.

  “Right. That’s what I meant.”

  William hasn’t said much throughout all of this; mostly he’s just sat quietly, holding tight to Annie’s hand. Now he asks, “But you still don’t have a plan? I mean for how you’re going to stop Mr. Gabriel once he gets his body back?”

  “No,” I admit. “Not yet.”

  “Look, I know I’m the new guy around here, but I gotta s
ay . . . this all just seems like a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “It’s a disaster already happening,” Diane mutters.

  “I know,” I say again. “I know. I just . . . I’m working on it, okay? I’m going to come up with something, I swear.”

  Leticia looks like she’s about to say something else, but just then I notice that Ryan is suddenly looking past me with a grim expression. Everyone else notices me noticing, and we all turn to see what he’s looking at.

  It’s Jeff, wandering over to a table on the other side of the room.

  “Who’s that?” asks Peter.

  “That’s the guy trying to steal Ryan’s part,” Leticia says. “We hate him.”

  “Reallllly?” Peter purrs. And then he launches out of his seat and makes a beeline toward Jeff’s table.

  “Hey!” Ryan says in alarm. He stares at me pleadingly. “Cyn! Make him stop!”

  “How? I can’t just body slam him in the middle of the cafeteria!”

  Ryan’s face suggests that he would have liked me to try, but I would never have caught up to Peter in time anyway. That guy can move eerily fast when he wants to. He’s already smiling and chatting with Jeff and the other kids at the table.

  “How am I supposed to stop fighting with him when he keeps provoking me?”

  “I’m trusting you to be the bigger man.”

  “I am the bigger man,” Ryan mutters, sticking his fork rather aggressively into his cafeteria lasagna. Annie, Leticia, and Diane (and, okay, me, too) are all suppressing smiles with varying degrees of success. William looks sympathetic.

  Peter doesn’t come back until we’re all leaving for our next classes. “Nice guy, that Jeff,” he says. “Did you know he played Javert at his old school, too?”

  “He’s not playing Javert at this school,” Ryan growls, dumping his trash in the bin.

  “Oh, yeah. Callbacks aren’t until Friday, right? Hmm. Well, good luck.”

  Ryan walks out without saying another word.

  “Please stop trying to start trouble,” I tell Peter. “Seriously. Do you think I need more trouble right now?”

  “It’s good for him,” Peter says. “Anyway, at the very least it’s probably distracting him a little from the curse slowly trying to kill him. Besides, I needed the boost.”

  “Please don’t create drama for Ryan just because you need a snack,” I tell him. “I’m sure we can find you some good old-fashioned high-school drama elsewhere if you really need some.”

  “Okay, okay,” Peter says. But somehow I don’t feel entirely reassured.

  After school, Ryan goes home to get ready for his voice lesson. Peter went off again after lunch to try to consult with some “friends” about the prison thing. I have no idea who these friends might be; as far as I know, he hasn’t found a new Hector, and a human assistant wouldn’t be any help in this case anyway. Maybe he’s going to summon that tiny demon again. Whatever it is, I assume he’s still at it and head home.

  Both my parents are still working when I get there, which allows me to sneak my demon-filth-encrusted clothes into the wash and change out of my gym clothes without having to field any awkward questions. Then I take a nice long hot shower, washing my hair twice this time. Then I try to read my book for English, wanting to believe that it’s going to matter at some point, but mostly I sit there staring at the pages and trying to figure out how we’re going to kill Mr. Gabriel after we help him get his body back.

  It’s close to seven when I hear the doorbell ring. I assume it’s the delivery guy from whatever place we’re getting dinner from tonight, but then my mom’s voice calls up from the foot of the stairs. “Cyn! You have a . . . visitor.”

  I put my book down and glance at the hallway toward the stairs. A visitor? Who —? But then I know.

  I run downstairs to find Peter sitting on the couch, smiling blindingly up at my mother. She turns and raises a very articulate eyebrow at me as I arrive, breathless, too late.

  “So, this is Peter,” she says. “Your . . . camp friend.”

  “Just in town visiting my uncle,” Peter says brightly. “Hi, Cyn! I thought I’d surprise you.”

  “Well, you succeeded,” I say, trying to shoot daggers at him from my eyes without letting my mother see. She’s too distracted with work to pay much attention to my life most of the time, but when she is paying attention, she doesn’t miss a thing. And there are so very many things I need her to miss right now. There’s a limit to how much demon-magic-smoothing-over I really want Peter to do to my family.

  “Come on upstairs,” I tell him. My mom’s other eyebrow goes up, and I roll my eyes at her. “I’ll leave the door open, Mom. No sex or drugs, I promise.”

  Peter laughs charmingly, and after a second my mother joins in. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Peter? We’re having chicken.”

  I stare at her. “You’re cooking?”

  “Yes, I do that sometimes. Not on weeknights, usually, I know, but oddly everything kind of wrapped itself up early tonight, so I thought I’d take advantage.”

  “I’d love to, Mrs. Rothschild,” Peter says before I can recover enough from my surprise about the cooking to stop him.

  “Wonderful. I’ll call you kids down when it’s ready.” She turns and heads for the kitchen.

  I grab Peter’s hand and very ungently drag him up the stairs.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss at him once we’re in my room.

  “Aw, I missed you, too, Cyn.”

  “Peter . . .”

  “Come on, where else was I going to go? Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I’ll be ready to try to get us back tomorrow.”

  My annoyance evaporates at once. “Really?”

  “Yup. There’s a variation on a summoning procedure that I’d been hoping I could use when I left that marker with LB. I had to confirm a few things, but I think I know how to do it now. As long as our spidery companion is really still where we left him, I should be able to open a gateway right back there.”

  I sit heavily down on my bed. “I feel so odd right now. So relieved and so terrified all at the same time.”

  “Yeah,” he says, sitting next to me. “So this is your room, hmm?” He looks around with interest. “It’s more traditional than I’d imagined. I thought there’d be, like, hammers and half-deconstructed set pieces lying around, and maybe a mattress in a corner as an afterthought.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “What? It’s a compliment! You’re committed to your art.”

  “I’m committed to my art and I like to have a nice room to hang out in and a comfortable bed.”

  “I stand corrected.” He bounces experimentally on the bed. “It does seem comfortable. And quiet. Not squeaky at all. I mean if you were doing anything on it that might . . .”

  I get up hastily and cross to my desk chair.

  “Cyn?” my mother’s voice comes calling up to me again. “You, uh, have another visitor. Ryan’s here. I’ll just — um, send him up. Now. Okay?”

  “Yes, of course!” I call back, darting out to meet him at the top of the stairs.

  “Another visitor?” he asks.

  “Peter’s here. He thinks he knows how to get us back down to the prison.” I say this all in one great rush, before Ryan has a chance to get mad.

  He still gets kind of mad, though.

  “He couldn’t tell you tomorrow?”

  “Don’t be like that. Come on.” I lead the way back to my room.

  “That’s why your mom was being so weird,” he says behind me. “She thought you might be up here making out or something and didn’t want to send me up unannounced.”

  “Oh, stop it,” I say, even though I’m sure that’s exactly what my mother was thinking.

  Peter, of course, is sprawled out on my bed, carefully positioned to one side as though to indicate that just until recently I was lying there beside him.

  “I was sitting in the desk chair!” I nearly shout, pointing to it as though some
how that will help make my assertion more believable. “Peter, can you please stop being an ass for one second maybe?”

  “Doubtful,” Ryan mutters. He walks over to the bed and sits down, pushing Peter’s feet unceremoniously out of the way.

  “How was the voice lesson?” I ask.

  “Fine.” He’s clearly not in the mood to be chatty with Peter here.

  “You know,” Peter says, sitting up, “if you’re really that worried, I’d be happy to —”

  Ryan turns on him so quickly he’s practically a blur.

  “Don’t you dare,” he says. His voice is so tight and threatening that my mouth falls open. I’ve never heard him sound like that before. His finger is about an inch away from Peter’s left eye. “If you interfere in any way, I swear to God, Peter —”

  “He won’t,” I break in, not wanting to let Ryan finish that sentence. I lean over and pull his hand gently away from Peter’s face. “He won’t do a thing. Right, Peter?”

  Peter begins one of his noncommittal shrugs and mischievous smiles, but I am having none of that. If I’d had any doubt how important winning this role is to Ryan — which I didn’t — the utter seriousness in his every cell at this moment would have driven the message home with deadly force. It’s not just about this part anymore for him. It’s about his entire future. If he doesn’t earn this role fair and square, he’s never going to have faith in himself again. It’s stupid, because there’s really no such thing as fair and square when it comes to casting, but I know that’s how he feels. If Ryan gets the part, he has to feel like he deserves it. I can’t let Peter taint this victory for him. I can’t.

  I drag my desk chair over to the bed and sit down, facing Peter, and look him dead in the eye. “Stop it. Right now. This is off-limits, do you hear me? If you do anything to influence callbacks, I will have nothing to do with you ever again. Ever. I mean it.”

  “Come on, I was only —”

  “I mean it, Peter. We’ll be done. Forever.”

  I watch as he takes in how much I really mean this. His smile vanishes.

  “Okay. Okay, sure.”

  “Swear to me.”