Demons

Chapter Eight

My dad has been more on my mind in the last couple of days, than any other time in my life. I keep thinking if maybe I should go by the apartment and visit, and then seem to change my mind or have Lauren change it for me. She somehow understands my problem and helps me with it. Although, sometimes her help doesn’t seem like it’s just for me.

“Sis, are you ready to go?” Lauren comes into the guest room she lent me for the time being.

“Yeah, almost,” I put some lotion on my face because it gets dry after I wash it.

Lauren walks over to me. “No makeup?”

I look at her, an incredulous look on my face. “You know I hate the stuff.”

She smiles, and then frowns. “It’s just that you used to wear it so much that it’s just normal.” Yeah, from all the bruises he left on my face.

I smile, knowing, or hoping she’s only trying to help and close the lotion walking past her into the hall.

As I walk into Biology, I wonder what Mrs. Remes has in store for us today. Taking my seat near the back of the class, I try to focus on something that will keep me awake. For some reason I’ve been unbelievably tired and hungry these past couple of days. Then Zandor walks in, and I’m wide awake.

He looks past all the other gawking girls and his eyes land on me. I shrink into my chair, chanting inside my head over and over please don’t sit next to me, please don’t sit next to me… he sits next to me. I close my eyes, and then open them, sitting up straighter in my chair.

“Hi,” I say weakly. It comes out very softly like I’m some type of damsel in distress. I mentally kick myself.

He smiles at me, one of those really cute half-smiles of his. “Hi, Dawn,” I don’t know if this is a dumb thing to say, but the way he says my name, sends shivers down my spine and all the way back up. He pulls out a loaf of bread. From where, I don’t know.

“Are you hungry?” He asks me.

“What type is it?” I ask, in truth I don’t care, I’m so hungry now.

“The type you eat when you’re being tempted for forty days and nights.” He jokes.

“Manna?” I ask, smiling.

He laughs. “No, sourdough.”

I nod a yes, and he rips me off a big piece. Taking a bite, wary of the teacher perhaps using this time to come into the classroom, I take a few more and before I know it, it’s all gone.

Zandor laughs. “Well, someone’s hungry,”

I give a weak laugh back. “Yeah, I’ve been hungry over the past couple of days. It’s a weird hunger, like even if I just ate I still am.”

He’s just looking at me.

I look down at the desk. “Sorry, that must’ve sounded stupid…”

“No,” I look up and see him smiling. “That happens to me too.”

“Really? You’re just humoring me aren’t you?” I blush, one hand covering my face.

“No, no really it does.” He says nodding his head.

“It’s probably just because you’re a guy,” I incur.

“Then why is it happening to you too?” He asks, flipping on me.

“Okay I give up, it’s normal,” I put both hands up in fake surrender and we laugh at each other, then the teacher comes in.

She stomps in, glasses crooked on her face, her skirts pleats are wrinkled and her hair is messy around her face. Setting down her papers, she goes to the board and writes in dusty chalk, ‘The Cell Cycle’. I don’t know if this is review or not, but I learned this in the ninth grade.

“Class, today we will be going over the Cell Cycle,” I hold in a laugh, thinking really, I thought you just wrote that on the board for no reason.

Zandor chuckles lightly next to me. There it goes again that feeling that he knows something I don’t. The feeling that while I linger near the ground he soars high above me. I sink into my chair as Ms. Morrison comes around the class with worksheets explaining the first phase of the Cell Cycle. Interphase. That’s the cell’s normal life, then the process it goes through when it realizes it needs to divide.

The chalk Ms. Morrison uses to write on the board scrapes across the surface with the smoothness of long fingernails. I try to concentrate but the noise gets to me. I’ve hated that noise ever since sixth grade when my math teacher Mr. Gillman did it all the time.

I cover my ears inconspicuously, making it look like I’m just smoothing back my hair, I lower my head.

Don’t worry, I hate it too. My head pops up just as fast as it lowered.

Who is this? I ask back. How in the world can someone be inside my head? All I know is that it is a distinct voice, as clear as crisp wind on a warm day. 

Someone you know. The voice replies.

Can you please leave my head, I didn’t invite you in. It’s starting to scare me how much the person seems to know.

But you did, The voice tells me. Somehow I allowed this voice inside my head. Don’t worry, I’ll go. I can’t afford to scare you away now.

Now?  I ask, but the voice doesn’t answer now. True to its word, it’s gone.

The bell rings and Ms. Morrison lets out a deep breath. “Alright class, please turn in your worksheets on the way out.” She takes a weary seat in her chair and closes her eyes.

I look up and realize everyone is already halfway to the door before I even move. When I turn to the left, I also realize that Zandor isn’t