An incessant beeping rouses me from my slumber. Burrowing deeper into my blankets, I groan at the noise.
"Eli, if you hid another alarm clock in my room, I'm going to...do something. Something bad that I'll figure out once I'm actually awake," I half-heartedly threaten.
The beeping abruptly stops, and a timid voice calls out, "Um, it is not Eli. It is uh, me. Cassie. Your roommate? My alarm, I mean. Your roommate Cassie's alarm. It was my alarm going off, though I set it for you because I was not sure if you had one or not."
What?
Cassie?
Alarm?
Since when do I have a roommate?
In a rush, the last twenty-four hours of my life come back to me. I'm not in my bedroom back in Hell, I'm in my shared dorm room at Purgatory Academy. With my angel roommate to whom I owe a massive apology.
Throwing the covers off my upper body, I rub the sleep out of my eyes and turn my head to the sound of Cassie's voice.
In her school uniform, Cassie sits at her desk chair facing me. Her hair is braided away from her face, her shoes are polished and shiny, and she holds a mug and a paper bag in her hands. Noticing where my attention is, Cassie pushes the items in my direction.
"I got you breakfast," she says nervously. "You seem to have a sweet tooth, so I thought you might like a donut and some hot chocolate. If you don't want it, though, that is totally fine!"
She's so thoughtful and earnest. And, after the way I treated her yesterday...
I can't help it. I burst into tears.
Cassie panics. Dropping the food and drink back onto the table, she reaches for me and then hovers her arms in the air like she doesn't quite know whether or not she should touch me.
Coming to a decision, she closes the distance between us and pats me on the back.
"I am so sorry, Willow. About my father and everything. I understand why you do not want to be associated with me."
I cry harder. Great wracking sobs that would get me nominated for an Oscar if I was playing the part of a grieving widow or something. But, no. I'm just a terrible person being comforted by someone who should be slapping me across the face.
Through my tears, I choke out reassurances.
"No." Sniffle. "I'm the one." Body Shudder. "Who should be." Sniffle. "Sorry."
Covering my eyes with my hands, I press down as though I can physically force the tears back into my body. The pain of the action gives me something else to focus on, and the distraction allows me to calm myself.
While I recover, Cassie patiently squats beside me, rubbing up and down my back like Lilith used to do. It makes me feel safe and loved, and the reminder of those pleasant feelings is enough to fully bring me back to normal.
When all that remains of my sob fest is lingering hiccups and surely red eyes, I give speech another go.
"Thank you," I tell Cassie. "For more than just this." I wave my arm around, trying to encapsulate the back-rubbing, breakfast-giving, and alarm-setting.
"It is no problem at all," she immediately replies.
I shake my head. "No. I was a jerk to you yesterday. More than a jerk, really. An a-asshole," I correct, stuttering over the curse.
"It is okay—" Cassie starts but I cut her off.
"No. It's not okay. It wasn't right for me to go off on you like I did. I have my own issues with Archangel Michael, but that has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry I didn't give you more of a chance, and I'm sorry for all of the despicable things I said to you."
Cassie gives my back one more pat before stepping back. "It really is okay, Willow. I understand that you were upset and that is why you lashed out. I promise that I did not know anything about the situation you have with my father. He knows I cannot lie, so he usually keeps me in the dark about things like that."
Recalling my conversation with Roz, I nod even as my stomach twists with more guilt. "I believe you."
I don't go into detail about what I learned about her past. It feels wrong to bring up, especially when she alluded to having secrets she doesn't want to share.
Will she be upset when she finds out that I already know about her being a captive in her own home? Roz said it's public knowledge, but maybe Cassie wants a fresh start at Purgatory Academy.
Cassie perks right up. "Well, now that that is settled, how about breakfast? We can go over our schedules while we eat."
"Schedules?" I question, rising out of bed. Wincing at the soreness in my legs—I really need to do more cardio—I make the short journey to my desk chair and gingerly sit in it.
"They arrived in our mailbox this morning."
"We have a mailbox?"
"Oh, yes. I completely forgot to show you during our tour! It is on the first floor. There are locked mailboxes for each room. Roz and Elizabeth have their own, otherwise, I would have picked their schedules up as well."
Cassie gestures to the grey envelope laying on the corner of my desk that matches the one on hers.
Mail in Purgatory, fancy that. Is it just for school-related packages and documents, or can anyone from any realm send us mail? I want to ask, but the sealed envelope with my first name on it is demanding my attention.
Carefully removing the wax seal on the back, I lift the flap and pull out a thick piece of card stock. In bold-typed letters, my class schedule is printed for all the world to see.
Monday-Friday
7:00 AM Angels and Demons: A History (A26)
9:00 AM Weapons: Celestial, Elven, and Other Things That Can Kill You (B20)
11:00 AM Introduction to Earth Creatures and Customs (B15)
12:00 PM Lunch
1:00 PM Fae Etiquette and Manners (A07)
2:00 PM Introduction to Shifter Species (A07)
3:00 PM Life Skills (B17)
4:00 PM Combat Training (Gym)
The schedule is so jam-packed, you might as well slap some peanut butter on it and call it a sandwich.
"At least we have weekends off," I mutter.
"For right now, yes," Cassie agrees.
Already dreading the answer, I ask, "What do you mean by that?"
"We are expected to add extracurricular activities that will fill up our time on Saturdays and Sundays. For instance, there is a gardening club, a hunting club; you can join one of the dodgeball teams or find a teacher to sponsor an independent study."
While she talks, I eat the glazed donut she brought me. It goes well with the hot chocolate, and by well, I mean that I'm in sugar paradise and my mood is thoroughly improved. Stress eating works, people.
"Dodgeball? Are there any other sports, or is it just that one?"
I haven't played the game before. There's a version of it in Hell, but the demons use severed heads as the balls, so I never had much interest in participating. Eli, however, is the reigning champ. She'd go against groups of demons by herself and still emerge victoriously.
Cassie grimaces. "Apparently, they used to have a bunch of different sports, but they got too bloody and the school was forced to shut them down. Everything but dodgeball, so it is a pretty big deal around here. My brother is the captain of a team, and they have won the last seven championships."
At the mention of her brother, I mirror her displeased facial expression. It's too early for thoughts of him and what transpired last night.
I'm torn between talking to Cassie about it, or just pretending like it never happened. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, I'm going to sweep it under the rug and hope no one trips over it.
I change the subject. "What's your schedule? Do we have anything together?"
Holding up our class schedules to compare the two, we discover that all of our afternoon classes are the same, but we have nothing in common in the morning. Well, we have the morning classes in common, but they're at different times.
"Looks like I won't be seeing you until lunch," I remark.
"Yes," Cassie says, shoulders slumping.
"Hey, at least we can still study and do homework together for our morning classes. Then, in the afternoon, we can be seat partners."
Cassie straightens. "That is true! We can totally have a designated table in the library that is ours and we can work all through the night!"
My little nerd heart is excited at the prospect of so much time spent in the library, even if my brain reminds me that all-nighters aren't the best for my mortal body.
Just like donuts and hot chocolate aren't the best for my body, as much as I enjoy them. I'll have to eat something with actual nutritional value for lunch. If I can even last that long without food.
Between my first class and lunch is what? Five hours? That's quite the wait. Not to mention the fact that it's—I spare a glance for Cassie's clock—six forty-five so that's an extra fifteen minutes without—wait.
"It's six forty-five!" I shout.
Cassie checks her clock then nods, somewhat confused.
"I'm going to be late!" I explain. "I'm not even dressed..."
Not bothering to finish my sentence, I spring from my chair and run the five-foot distance to my wardrobe. Yanking the handles open, I grab a blouse, jacket, and skirt from the rack.
When I start stripping, Cassie says, "Students usually show up to class right at the designated time, so you will be fine. I shall teleport you there, no problem."
Her voice sounds strange, and when I look back at her, I see that she's turned her body to face the wall and give me privacy. I'm so used to Eli seeing me change that I didn't even consider that a relative stranger might be uncomfortable with me being naked. There's no time to worry about it, though.
After the uniform is on, I unzip my still-packed suitcases to retrieve a new pair of socks and underwear. With my feet covered, I lace up my steel-toed boots and get to work tying up my hair. It's too short for anything substantial, but it's worth keeping my bead-head in check.
"Okay, ready," I tell Cassie.
She turns back around and gives me a thumbs up. "You look great! The grey really suits you."
She can't lie, but I don't have a mirror to determine whether or not I agree with her.
"Thank you. You, too," I tell her anyway.
Grabbing my backpack, I toss most of the books out so that only the spiral notebooks and pencil case remain. Sliding into the shoulder straps, the new lightness is a welcome relief to my strained muscles.
Cassie reaches out for me, and we clasp our arms before she teleports us out of the dorm room.
We arrive outside of a closed door. Next to the door is a golden placard with 'A26' engraved into it. The door itself is located near the end of a long hallway with white marble floors and grey walls.
"Let me guess," I say. "This is the 'Heaven' building."
"Yes!" Cassie exclaims. "If your schedule says A-something, then your class is in this building. If it says B-something, then you are in the Hell building, which is right next to this one."
I shrug. "Sounds simple enough. Thanks for your help, Cassie."
She practically glows. "I will leave you to it! See you at lunch, roomie!"
After she vanishes, I take a deep breath and open the door.
Stepping into my first class of the day, I'm filled to the brim with nervous excitement. I've never been in a real classroom environment before—tutors in Hell teaching just to me, Killian, and Eli don't exactly count. How will it measure up against school settings in film and TV? How will I measure up against a whole new set of peers?
My train of thought is derailed by the figure slumped in the back-right corner of the classroom. Their only visible feature is a shock of dark red hair as their face is turned away from my direction. The person snores loudly, obviously enjoying a deep sleep.
Creeping closer, I pass ten rows of single-occupancy desks before reaching Mr. or Mrs. Sandman's side. I lightly tap the toe of their shoe with my own in an attempt to rouse them. It doesn't work; if anything, the person snores even more obnoxiously at the contact.
With a sneaking suspicion of the identity of this sleeper, I slam my hands on the desk in front of them. The resulting bang is thunderous in the quiet room.
And...nothing. Still snoring away.
Convinced now that the slumbering figure is Aristotle, I do the only thing that is certain to wake him up. Climbing over an empty desk so that I'm standing in view of his familiar face, I pinch his nose shut with one hand and cover his mouth with the other.
After several seconds—almost a full minute actually—he begins to show signs of life.
His eyes move rapidly behind his closed lids, then his eyelids flutter before opening completely. I let go of his nose and move my other hand away from his mouth, but he grabs it and holds it in place. Kissing my palm in an uncharacteristic display of affection, he finally lets me go.
Aristotle yawns and stretches. "If you were trying to kill me, Trouble, then you didn't do a very good job."
I'm somewhat distracted by his disheveled appearance—his uniform is rumpled, he has sleep lines on his face, and his hair is a mess of tangles—but not so distracted that I can't give him a witty reply.
"If I wanted to kill you, Ari, you'd be dead."
He grins, not at all perturbed by my empty threat. If Eli said something like that, then he'd have cause to worry. But little ol' me? Not much to worry about.
I can take care of myself when I need to, choking Al the angel into unconsciousness is indicative of that, but I usually try to avoid confrontations and physical altercations whenever possible. Aristotle knows that.
Besides, he's never given me a reason to dislike him or cause harm to his person. His brothers on the other hand...
I state the obvious. "You slept here."
He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Didn't want to miss class. Thought it'd be better if I just spent the night."
"Huh." A clever solution, I guess. "Are you finally planning on passing a class?"
"Anne told me she'd disown me as her brother if I don't."
I laugh. "She did not say that!"
"She did. Was super scary about it, too. I have to pass all of my classes if I want to maintain my position as her twin."
I frown in mock sympathy. "However will you manage such an impossible feat?"
Aristotle smirks. "I figured you could help me."
I shake my head. "No. Nuh-uh. You should be the one helping me. Not the other way around. You've learned this stuff three times already!"
He pouts. "Come on, Trouble. Devil knows you're going to excel here. I need you."
The compliment is nice, even if he is just buttering me up so that I'll help him. Obviously, he does need some sort of assistance. He's smart enough to know the material but too lazy to actually do the work.
I settle on a compromise. "Okay, I'll help you." At his grin, I add, "But I won't do the assignments for you. You can join my study group and we can work together."
He chuckles. "The first day of school and you already have a study group in place? How very you, Trouble."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a nerd, whatever. It wasn't exactly my idea, so I can't take the credit for it."
His response is interrupted by the arrival of other students in the classroom.
Even in their identical outfits, it's easy to spot the angels from the demons. As previously established, angels glow with an inner light. Demons, on the other hand, could pass for attractive humans. No luminescence whatsoever.
Before anyone can claim the spot in front of Aristotle, I set my backpack down on the chair and then walk around the desks rather than climb over them again. From a focus standpoint, it's probably better to sit in the front.
However, I don't want to draw anyone's notice, and the back of the room provides a certain level of anonymity. Plus, it'll be easier to ensure that Aristotle stays awake if he's within kicking distance of me.
As more and more students enter the classroom, I pivot my body so my legs are out in the aisle and my side rests against the chair back. Tilting my head so that Aristotle is visible, I continue our conversation.
"So, what can you tell me about this class? Lots of essays, pop quizzes, that sort of thing? Maybe group projects?"
There have to be a lot of assignments involved; Aristotle would pass the class otherwise.
"Nah," Aristotle says on a yawn. "Professor Williamson is pretty chill. She even lets me nap during her lectures."
I raise an eyebrow. "Does she let you nap, or have you done it so much that she stopped trying to do anything about it?"
He thinks about it. "Hmm. Second one."
"Okay," I sigh. "First rule of being in the study group. No napping during class time."
His sigh is even more exaggerated than mine. "You drive a hard bargain, Trouble, but fine. Anything for my study buddy."
"You're such a dork," I tell him, biting back a smile.
He exhibits no such restraint, gifting me once again with his leisurely grin. One look above my head, and that grin spreads even further.
"This should be fun," he states, sliding down in his chair until he's practically falling out of it.
"What?" I ask, following his line of sight.
Oh, no.
It's Galileo.
Galileo, in his school uniform, brandishing a...briefcase? Who puts their school supplies in a briefcase? Backpacks are the best option, messenger bags and cross-bodies are a distant second, I don't think Aristotle brought anything with him, actually, but having no bag is better than a briefcase.
Is Galileo late for a business meeting or something? Just a legitimate businessman with serious business plans. Typing up expense reports, manipulating the stock market, committing fraud, you know, typical business-y things.
While my mind goes on a tangent that not even I can follow, I copy Aristotle and slide low in my seat. Hunching down, I pray to the universe that Galileo likes to sit up front.
You have poor eyesight, I mentally speak into his brain. You need to be close to the chalkboard. Please ignore the girl behind the curtain.
"Do you think he's seen The Wizard of Oz?" I whisper to Aristotle.
Aristotle understands who I'm talking about. At a normal volume, he responds, "He hates humans, so I doubt he watches their films."
That's a fair point. So, no 'behind the curtain' references.
Please ignore the girl at the back of the room, I silently correct.
Like the universe or Galileo is actually listening, he remains at the forefront of the classroom. Except, he bypasses the student desks and heads straight for the podium placed between the chalkboard and the first row of desks.
Setting his briefcase on top of the wooden lectern, he unclasps the buckles holding the leather case together. Pulling out a stack of papers, he finally looks up and meets the eyes of the rest of the students.
"Hello, class. If you've lived under a rock your whole life and are somehow unaware, my name is Leo Michaelson, and I'll be taking over for Professor Williamson this year. Get out your writing utensils. It's time for a pop quiz."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My ears are ringing.
Around me, students groan, most likely about the whole 'pop quiz' thing. Not me, though. I'm currently trying to convince the floor to swallow me up and spit me out somewhere else. Anywhere else.
The son of my arch enemy, the same guy who promised to ruin my life here at PA, the one responsible for my first kiss—that's the person who will be teaching me two hours a day, five days a week for the next nine months.
We could have a kid together in that amount of time, my brain is helpful enough to mention.
Be quiet, brain, I command myself like the sane person that I am.
Anyway, the crux of the issue is that Galileo and his shitty father want to keep me from graduating, and now, Galileo has the ultimate opportunity to do so. He'll be in charge of my grades, for Satan's sake!
A tap on my shoulder pulls me out of my thoughts.
"Do you have a spare pen I can borrow?" Aristotle asks.
"Um, sure," I say, still somewhat in a daze. Unzipping my backpack, I retrieve my pencil case and grab pens for the both of us.
Meanwhile, Galileo hands out stapled packets of paper to each row of students. When the last two packets are passed back to me, I give Aristotle his before scanning the first page of mine.
"You have two hours to complete the quiz," Galileo informs us. "If you finish early, you can leave. If you finish late, you get detention. Any questions."
The last sentence is worded like a question but spoken like a statement. Wisely, everyone remains quiet.
Nodding his head like he's satisfied that we're able to understand a rhetorical question when we hear one, Galileo tells us we can begin.
I write my name on the appropriate line at the top of the page but struggle when I can't remember what my last name is supposed to be.
Homophone? Hominy? Homosapien?
Jeez, Lucifer, why couldn't you choose something simple and easy? Like Smith. I would be perfectly fine being known as Willow Smith.
Settling on just the first initial, I move on to the rest of the quiz. It's, in a word, challenging.
There are general history questions, such as What is the name of the battle between archangels for the command of Hell?
I write in 'Hell Wars' for that one, briefly recalling the story Lucifer once told me about it. Unsurprisingly, he thought the name lacked creativity and should be changed.
Then, there are more difficult questions.
What are the three rivers in Heaven, and what are their effects on the body?
It's oddly phrased. Effects of what? The three rivers in Heaven? Are there flesh-eating leeches at the bottom of the riverbanks or something?
Flipping through the pop quiz, I find more questions like the river one. If anything, they seem to be written for the benefit of the angels in the class. Almost all of the questions relate to Heaven and angels in some way, and those who grew up with both have a distinct advantage over us Hell-dwellers.
While many residents of Hell used to reside in Heaven, part of their deal in moving to Hell was receiving a brain sweep. General memories remained intact, but details relating to the specifics of Heaven were erased. It's supposed to be a failsafe in case the citizens of Hell decide to go to war with Heaven, I suppose.
It also makes learning about Heaven virtually impossible for demons until they attend Purgatory Academy. Even then, there's no guarantee that angel professors are feeding us the correct information.
That being said, I complete the quiz to the best of my ability. Once it's done, I lose my laser focus and notice that at least half the class is already gone. I didn't even hear them leave!
On the table next to where Galileo's still standing is a pile of completed quizzes. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to walk up to that table and turn in my own quiz.
Rising out of my seat and pulling my backpack onto one shoulder, I casually make my way to the front of the room. At least, I hope it appears casual. My heart's doing its palpitating routine, so I might actually look like a nervous wreck.
Once at the table, I drop off my quiz and avoid eye contact with Galileo. I turn towards the door and my freedom, but my hasty escape is stopped by Galileo clearing his throat.
"Excuse me, Miss..."
I face him with my head down.
"Uh, it's Homicide."
I could slap myself. With a shovel.
Homicide? Homicide?
"As in murder?" Galileo questions, because of course, a dumb name like that requires further investigation.
Cheeks burning, I tell the floor tiles, "It's a family name. Because we, um, exclusively torture human murderers. In Hell."
"Right," he agrees, though I can't determine if he's amused or not.
When I say nothing further, he adds, "I just wanted to let you know that your shoes are untied."
He's telling the truth; I can see the loose laces. "Thank you," I say. It's nice of him to point that out.
"Wouldn't want any of you demons to trip and fall to your deaths on the first day of school," he finishes, erasing the earlier niceness.
"Right," I echo him. I'm definitely not amused, though.
Figuring this is the end of our interaction, I spin around and leave the classroom as fast as my feet can take me.
Once outside, I bend down to tie my shoes.
"Is this you always messing with my life, God? I'm not your strongest warrior, you know. I'm not really your warrior at all, but whatever. Please give me a break one of these days."
To my complete and utter astonishment, my speech to God goes without reply. Maybe he's busy. Or he doesn't like talking out loud. Does he accept letters? No, that's Santa Claus.
A pair of scuffed black tennis shoes enter my sightline. "Willow Homicide, huh?"
Finishing the knot on my boot, I straighten and address Aristotle. "Unfortunately. Maybe. I don't know. Your dad gave me a last name, but it was weird and now I can't remember what it was."
"Ah," he says like that makes perfect sense.
Not wanting to linger outside this particular classroom, I start walking down the hallway. Aristotle wordlessly falls into step with me
Pushing open the door to the stairwell, I ask, "What'd you think about that pop quiz?"
Our shoes squeak on the tiled stairs, the sound reverberating through the empty space. I have to consciously slow my pace to ensure that Aristotle can keep up. With how fast he moves, we might as well be scooting down the stairs on our butts.
"It's a bad day to be from Hell. Obviously, our history is unimportant to Professor Michaelson." Aristotle smirks as he says Galileo's title.
"Yeah, way too many Heaven-related questions. I had to take a lot of educated guesses, and my Heaven education is severely lacking."
Arriving at the bottom floor, I turn to Aristotle. "I have to go to the Hell building for my next class. What about you?"
Aristotle reaches into the pocket of his unbuttoned shirt and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. When he doesn't even try to smooth out the wrinkles enough to actually read it, I pluck it from his fingers and do it for him.
"Okay, you have Fae Etiquette next, which is in this building. We don't have any more classes together until Intro to Shifter Species at two o'clock."
Handing him back his schedule, I salute Aristotle like I'm going off to war. "See you later, Ari. Pay attention in class and do not fall asleep. Under any circumstances."
"But what if I get bored?"
Throwing out my arms, I tell him, "Be bored all you want. Just stay awake."
He salutes me back. "Aye aye, captain."
I knew the salute was a bad idea. As soon as I did it, honestly. Note to self: must work on farewells and proper goodbyes.