The Demon Inheritance

TWENTY-EIGHT

The breeze wisps through the trees again. I had always liked this time of the school year, not quite yet spring, but not quite summer anymore. The nature around was truly appreciable, but school itself is what we were all dreading.

And by we, I did mean the six Extants. Nahara was being housed with Dillan. I wasn't sure how smart of a move that was, but the entire group was here now. All the Extants had a bond weaving between them.

Yet, when I entered the first period classroom, which I shared with Mary Clarkson, I kept expecting to see the slightly shy white-haired boy walk through the door intending to sit beside me, smelling of oranges and smoke like always. He wasn't going to come. He hadn't come for weeks. What was that one quote I had come across when exploring the internet once? Ah, yes. You are the song I can never get out of my head. That was true for Oliver and I. I couldn't stop picturing my Apotropaic walking in, hearing his voice say my name, dreaming about his laughter and determination.

I took the window seat immediately, and Mary took the one in front of me. I propped my chin on top of my knuckles, black eyes trained on the door. I was expecting my Apotropaic to come and see me. I nearly felt that if I hoped hard enough, it would happen.

Again, I hadn't heard from him in weeks. And seeing as how the last time I was him, he was beaten and bruised, it wasn't a good thing.

Dillan made his way through the door into the classroom, throwing up peace signs. "I'm back, bitches!" He flashed a grin, and some of the people started cheering for his returns.

I sighed in disapproval. They wouldn't like you if they knew the kind of things you liked and the kind of things you have been through. Usually it's the other way around... You've cursed yourself, Dillan Raking. I continued to watch him as he put his arm around the skeleton posed beside the door and, as dared by one of the jocks in the front, kissed the side of its jawbone.

"Yeah, dude, I think it's real," said Dillan.

I put my head down one the desk, one arm extended into the hood of the jacket Mary was wearing. I was letting her wear Oliver's; it was a little loose on her. Looking into the blackness on the wood, I took a deep breath. This year can be good. You have drama class to look forward to, and Gary isn't here. I felt my back pop.

Mary reached back and placed her hand on mine. "Don't backtalk this teacher."

I forced a laugh. "I won't." I am a good kid!

"I don't know how you changed," the short-haired girl shrugged. "You might yell at people now instead of just arguing. I don't know. Hehehe."

"You have no idea..." I returned her smile. It felt good to have moments like we did before Croma. To return to the past, even for just a second.

Our teacher walked in. He was a bald, wrinkled man with one lazy brown eye and a permanent frown. He wore clothes linked to stereotype Hawaii outfits, with sunglasses and everything. "I'm Mister Brown, the science teacher."

The kid who had dared sit beside me nudged me and pointed at the sheet of paper in front of her. It read her schedule. "Looks like Gary Bluethorne moved up a grade. Teaching math in Tenth. Look at your schedule. What classes do we have together?"

Frost sliced my spine, and I unfolded my schedule as the bald man spoke about how he wanted us to act this year in a monotone voice; he had obviously given the speech many times before. It was true. Gary was teaching again. He was my next period, and there was no guarantee that I wasn't going to lunge to choke him next time I saw his face. I folded the schedule and narrowed my eyes at her. "Wouldn't you like to know what classes we have together?" My words came out as more of a growl than the way I intended them to be.

The kid wrinkled her nose as if she suddenly found something disgusting, and leaned away from me. She clutched the schedule in her hand. Immediately, she began whispering to some of the other girls sitting around her aggressively.

I didn't care.

Alright, maybe I cared a litte. But it was about how I made her feel, not getting rejected by rejecting them.

I played around with my mechanical pencil, flicking the gripper as I looked down at my desk. Some boys came around to pass different papers out, each of them information and advertisements on different sports and clubs you could join. Dillan, passing out soccer papers, stopped at my desk. "I'm surprised your mom let you go back to school so early. Has anyone been trying to suffocate you in curiosity yet?"

I scoffed. "I was attractive and popular for a short period of time. They don't care. Thank Croma..." I pulled the pencil into my mouth and nibbled on the gripper. "Why don't you shut it and give me the papers, bro?" I lifted my eyebrows, hoping that they would adopt a playful light instead of hatred. After all, I wasn't as angry a person anymore. I think.

"You really interested in soccer?" he asked.

I shrugged. "As long as it doesn't conflict with my drama club schedule then it would be great to try something new. You wanna know one of the things I learned when we were out there fighting?"

"Tell me."

I took the paper from him. "You only have one life, and it's short. Try things. You don't want to die never having done a cool thing, do you?" A smile played its way onto my lips as I fingered the paper. "Besides, soccer would probably be awesome to start doing. I hate the normal sports that everyone likes, like football and basketball."

He scoffed, taking fake offense. "I think those sports are awesome, but whatever." He winked one of his purple eyes, teeth flashing under his smile. "Take care, Whitestone." Then, I had to watch as he walked away to give out soccer papers to other people.

Mary turned around. "While you are playing soccer, I think I'll start poetry club. I didn't ever get into anything extra last year, just scriptwriting, which isn't exactly a club... Seems like a good flex of skills, huh? I could be the next Shakespeare! Minus the fame for Romeo and Juliet. I hate that play..."

I laughed. "Me too."

The rest of class was spent with Mister Brown telling us what we would expect of him this year, and what he would expect of us. He then went on to try and convince us to join science club. To my disappointment, Dillan was mocking him the whole time, much unlike him. The group around him laughed, concealing it badly. Then, after that class, it was off to Bluethorne's.

When Mary and I walked through the door, we were greeted by a dark classroom with the demon general leaning against his desk, head tilted hown. His messy black hair was over his eyes, like he didn't want to see something. His leather jacket had scratches and tears in it, and for once, he was wearing a belt with jeans instead of sweatpants.

I looked the Dark demon over once before scurrying to the back with Mary. Again, we took window seats, and Gary waited until the entire class was sitting down. When he glanced up with a fiery force, scratching the whiskers on his chin, he avoided looking to the window corner, where he knew Mary and I would be.

Did he avoid us out of fear?

"I welcome you to another school year in Millton High School," he said. "This year, I am going to try harder as your teacher so maybe I can move up another grade to make sure you aren't all complete failures who waste your lives." Then, slowly, his eyes dared to connect with mine across the room. The same shade of black as my eyes... Mary cowered. "This year, I will try and redeem myself for the horrible job we all did last year..." Then, he looked back to the group. "It was mostly you."

I scratched the desk, gritting my teeth. Keep talking, Bluethorne. You'll get on my nerves so bad I kill you in front of everyone here. Just wait... Despite vowing vengeance, I felt cold spike in my stomach. That one sentence had been directed at me hadn't it?

What did he mean redeem himself?

Was he going to try harder to kill one of the Extants this year?

I shut my notebook, chuckling a bit to myself. Really? Everyone is here, now. All Extants are here, and we're friends. I know now how powerful friendship and bonds can be. So go ahead, try to hurt one of us. You'll learn from the rest what a mistake that can be.