How to Save Your School From Soul Stealing Demons

CHAPTER THREE

I nod, fighting back a flattered grin. No one other than Miguel ever showed any interest in my art—he's the one who got me the sketchbook last Christmas, a gift that my parents were baffled by. They didn't even know I had any interest in art. With the way they never ask about it, I have to wonder if they realize I still do.

"Sure, yeah." I swivel the book around so it's facing him and open it to one of my latest pages. "Uh, this one's just a collection of a few different character ideas. I'm big into comics, so I like to mess around, make up my own characters."

He flips to the next page, one that has two sketches of a deserted city. "Dude, you could make your own comic with skills like this. Forget could—You should make your own comic."

It's not as if I haven't thought about it before. In fact, I think about it a lot. But there are more important things for me to think about, aka baseball. Yeah, I'm not crazy about it, and yeah, I'm way better at drawing, but do I really need to give my parents another reason to be disappointed in me?

I shrug it off. "I guess. I'm really more interested in baseball right now. Do you know anything about tryouts?"

"Baseball?" he repeats it like it's a disease. "Really?"

I give him a 'Yes, and?' type of look.

He lets out a laugh, flipping to the next page with a shake of his head. "Sorry, it's just... you're an artist, dude. When you're this good at something, I don't know why you'd waste your time on anything else. You must really like baseball."

"Yeah," I lie, since it's a lot easier than telling the truth. I don't like baseball, but I do like Mom and Dad's approval. "But thanks."

"I'm just stating the obvious," he says, handing the book back to me. "And the obvious is that you've got wicked skills. I mean, I was impressed by the one of Hemani, but those are like, wow."

"Speaking of," I say, hoping I sound casual, "what's she like, anyway? I mean... head cheerleaders have a stereotype, you know?"

"Ah, yeah. No, Kayla fits under that umbrella. You see the blonde sitting next to Hemani? That's her best friend. Now she has attitude problems. But Hemani's cool—a lot nicer than most of the people she hangs out with."

"Really?"

He nods, speaking through a bite of spaghetti. "Let's see... Hemani. Well, she's really athletic, and one of those total health-freak vegetarians. If you live anywhere near me, you'll probably see her around at some point jogging with her dog. What was his name...?" He snaps his fingers as he tries to remember, then lights up. "Oh! Quigley. She hates math, hates bugs, and loves—I mean, loves—New Kids on the Block."

I can only blink at him, since I feel like I just witnessed the inner monologue of a stalker. "And... how do you know all this, exactly?"

"We dated."

I nearly choke on the chip I'm swallowing. Watts snorts and cracks up, drawing annoyed glares and curious looks from a few of our table neighbors.

"You could spare my feelings a little by not acting so surprised," he says, still laughing as he readjusts his glasses. "But I am kidding, obviously. I tutored her last year. Like I said, she's nicer than her friends, so we had a few conversations that weren't related to math."

"Jesus," I shake my head, still reeling from the joke. If I were him, I'd be less insulted by my surprise and more flattered by the fact that I actually believed him. "If I knew it meant spending time with a girl like that, I would've tried for better math grades."