The Demon's Game (6 page)

“We only have one class together?! That’s ridiculous.
Wait until Dad hears about this! He’ll set them straight!”

“Leave Dad out of this; he has enough work to do. We
can either deal with this ourselves, or just live with it. We have lunch
together and archery. I’m sure we can go three hours without---”

“Absolutely not!”
Hail yelled in my head.
“You
need me in case the darkness tries something!”

There was no reasoning with him at this point. “Okay,
Hail. We’ll figure something out, but we’ll leave Dad out of it. Let’s just
head to breakfast.” Food was the best way to get Hail out of one of his moods.
Luckily, Drake was finally forced from the car, so he could lead us to the
cafeteria. Hail and I immediately flanked him in case anyone wanted to tease
him about anything, or in case he suddenly collapsed. Dad said he was in recovery,
but we weren’t going to risk anything happening to him.

I laughed when we found out they were serving eggs
and toast for breakfast, then I told the lunch lady that Hail loved eggs and
needed extra. The joke was on me; he made me eat all his eggs. After breakfast,
Hail walked me to each of my classes so he knew where I would be. I wouldn’t
have expected anything less.

P.E. was frustrating; I had to run in my jeans after
being yelled at for not having shorts. I considered it for a few minutes before
deciding I didn’t need him for anything. Coach McDaniel would suffer for his
insolence. He was a burly man with just as much fat as muscle, short, greasy
hair, baggy shorts, and a loud whistle. At first, I was going to let him slide
since everyone has a bad day, according to Dad, but then he yelled at me for
not running fast enough. I brushed by him and to him, it felt like a static
shock. What had actually happened was that I gave him a dose of bad luck. It
wasn’t two minutes later that he was stung by a bee. If he was even remotely
intelligent, he would realize that the worse he treated someone, the more bad
things will happen to him.

Hail met me after class to walk me to math. “How was
wrestling?” I asked.

He noted my sweaty shirt and shrugged. “Boring. I
just filled out paperwork. Why are you all sweaty?”

“We had to run. I don’t think I’ll like that class.
I’m going to have to train my teacher to be a nice person.”

My brother growled and stopped in the middle of the
hallway. “Was he mean to you?”

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’ll deal with
him.” Hail let it go, for now.

My first actual class was hallmark (advanced) math.
My teacher was Mr. Cardigan, a cleanly dressed man about Dad’s size. This was
the number-one teacher I needed to impress in order to skip sixth grade. It
wasn’t just my brilliant mind I had to show him, but my mature behavior as
well; I had to show him that I could act like a seventh grader.

He told me what I needed for class, introduced me to
everyone, and assigned me a seat up front. The desks were small and in neat
rows, each with a student. Most of them were busy talking, even though their
assignment was on the board in front of them. Perhaps everyone was done with
the assignment and had a moment of free time.

I pulled my notebook and pencil out of my bag and did
the assignment, which was to convert improper fractions to mixed numbers and
vice versa. That was something Dad showed me to do several years before.

Apparently, this was new for them, because the
teacher spent all class explaining it. Most of the students weren’t listening
the first time, so he had to spend the rest of the class explaining it to each
individual student. I wondered with disdain if this was how public school
normally ran, and if so, why any person in the world would want to be a
teacher.

After finishing my assignment within a few minutes, I
helped the students seated around my desk. A couple of students wanted to chat
and after realizing they had no intention to learn, I walked away from them. I
didn’t want to be friends with the humans, especially since I wouldn’t be in
the same grade as them the next year. If Dad thought I was making friends and
was happy here, it was possible he would decide we should stay on Earth. As
much as I understood this was Dad’s home world, it wasn’t mine. I didn’t want
to live on a world where the people would try to kill me just for having magic.

When the bell rang, the students gathered their stuff
and ran out the door, cutting the teacher off mid-sentence. Since my next class
was right across the hall, I stayed back to help him pick up the trash. Hail
came in to check on me, saw what I was doing, and started helping without
saying a word.

“Thank you, Ron,” Mr. Cardigan said. “Who is this?”

“This is my brother, Hail. He’s in sixth grade.
Hopefully, we’ll both be in seventh grade next year.”

“You’re trying to skip sixth grade?”

“Yes, sir.”
Obviously.
A sarcastic comment
came to mind, which was very odd, for I wasn’t a sarcastic person in the least.
Luckily, I knew most things that came to mind were better left unsaid, and it
was natural for me to think over my words several times before speaking.

“Sixth grade is a hard year.”

“I can handle it, sir. I want to be in the same class
as my brother.”

“Well, this is hallmark math, so I teach many sixth
grade concepts. Do well and I’ll recommend you skip.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cardigan. Have a good day.” I walked
out, taking Hail’s hand.

“Did anyone bother you?” he asked.

I smiled. “Nope. The kids were annoying, though. I’ll
deal with them later. “How was science?”

“I don’t like the teacher. She’s weird. Not like,
funny weird, like when Dad does that Star Wars thing with the pen, but ‘lady
with thirty cats’ weird. She smells odd, too, like dirt. I don’t like it here,
and I don’t like it with you being on the other side of the school. What if
something happens? We could skip next class.”

“No way. Dad would kill us. I’ll be fine, Hail.
Nobody is going to attack me, the darkness is quiet, and nobody suspects
anything. If something happens, I will stop time and come get you. Now don’t be
tardy.”

He nodded, regretfully, and hugged me before watching
me walk into my classroom. English was better because the class was small and I
knew I would actually learn stuff. The structure of English and Sudo were very
different. While Dad was very good at English grammar, he was much better at
teaching math and science. In FACS, I made lasagna, which impressed the pants
off my teacher, and shared it with Hail for lunch.

After lunch, I had history. I knew something was
wrong right off the bat when I walked into the classroom. For one thing, the
energy of the room was weird, but the more noticeable warning was the smell;
the teacher smelled like a graveyard. It wasn’t just dirt; there was rot on
her, too. She smiled kindly until she saw me and froze.

“Are you Ronez Yatunus?” she asked me, not friendly,
but not rudely either.

“Ron, yes.”

“I am Mrs. Sharp. Take a seat over there by the
window.”

As I made my way to the window, Drake entered the
room, dragging his bag behind him. He loved his bag so much that his abuse
could only mean he was really lethargic. On his way across the room, Mrs. Sharp
stopped him, put her hand on his shoulder, and leaned down to speak quietly to
him.

“How are you feeling today, Drake?”

“I’m okay.”

Except he obviously wasn’t.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re back with us. Let me
know if you feel like you need to go lay down. I understand.” She let him go
and he took a seat behind me.

I turned to him and put my hand on his. He smiled
weakly at me, taking my gesture as friendship. I ran my magic through him and
shuddered at the sickness in him. Oddly, some of it was warm and some of it was
cold. If it made any sense, I would say that someone was taking his healthy
energy and the sickness was growing stronger.

I knew, for my family’s safety, I couldn’t heal him
all at once, but I wasn’t going to let him suffer any more than he had to. I
filled him with energy once again and let go. My energy would replace his
lethargy with health and hold back the sickness until I could do more.

Turning back to watch the teacher, I waited to feel
the weakness myself. Every time I healed someone, I felt their pain as if it
were my own… but it didn’t come. There was no weakness. I looked back at Drake,
just a quick glance. Although he seemed a little better, my power should have
had a much stronger effect on him.

As I listened to the teacher talk about the
holocaust, I learned everything I could about Mrs. Sharp. She knew her history
without a doubt and was a great storyteller. The details and descriptions made
it interesting enough to pay attention, but I was more concerned about her
mind. There were different depths of reading a person’s mind, just as some
people had very open minds and some minds were more difficult to read.

Hers was blocked.

It was obvious that some form of magic protected her
thoughts and while I was powerful enough to break down those defenses, I would
have been detected. Whatever she was, this called for stealth.

Science was uneventful. My teacher was most
definitely human and was quite possibly the most boring person in the world. He
droned on for what felt like hours and hours without a simple inflection in
voice or tone until I knew I could sleep through it. My conclusion was to
either shake things up or bring my pillow to school.

Hail was waiting impatiently for me to make my way
out of the classroom before eagerly heading for archery. When we entered the
field, the first thing I noticed was a group of students huddled together. The
field was right between two school buildings; one containing the fifth and
sixth graders, and the other containing the seventh and eighth graders.
Apparently archery was for all middle school students, because it was mostly
seventh and eighth graders in this particular cluster. Dad had warned me about
older kids in large numbers.

The teacher only had to show us how to do it once.
Hail was very athletic and was able to fire the arrow like a pro from the very
first time. I had trouble pulling the string back. I was small for a fifth
grader and the bow was large, but I was determined to be at the top of the
class, right under Hail. If I couldn’t do it their way, I would do it mine.
With magic guiding my fingers, I aimed the arrow and released the string.

The teacher was impressed, but Hail had expected my
success. I couldn’t see myself being an archer, but Hail really liked it and I
was happy to have a class together. Even better was the fact that Drake was in
class with us. When we saw him sitting over on the benches by himself, I went
to sit with him. Hail nodded to me in acknowledgment.

“Hi, Drake, are you feeling better?” I took his hand
gently and let my magic heal just a little bit of the bad energy.

“Yeah. It’s been a good day.”

“Why aren’t you using the bow? Did nobody give you a
turn?”

“I’m still not better from chemo. I can’t pull the
string enough.”

“Then why did you take archery?”

“Because I used to love it and it’s better than P.E.
But now I can’t do it,” he said. He wasn’t crying, but sadness came off him in
waves, so I hugged him.

“It’ll get better now. Hail and I will help you get
better. And if anyone bothers you, Hail will kick their butt. He’s a great big
brother.” When class was over, Stacy picked us up and brought us back to her
apartment.

Mom was supposed to be home right after school… but
she wasn’t. Dad was supposed to be home by six… but he wasn’t. Drake’s dad
didn’t come home either, but he called home and said there had been a major
accident and it would be hours before anyone got off. I helped Stacy cook
dinner as Hail helped Drake with his homework.

We had spaghetti in front of the T.V. and saw on the
news that there had been a major car pileup involving two semi-trucks and many
cars. Stacy switched it over to cartoons and said we shouldn’t worry about it.
Hail and I did worry, though. Dad tried to save people using medicine, but
sometimes it wasn’t enough and he had to resort to magic. That usually damaged
any nearby electrical equipment. Not only that, but Dad felt the pain of those
he healed with magic, so he would be exhausted, hurting, and frustrated by the
time he made it home.

When nobody was home by bedtime, we had a sleepover.
Drake, Hail, and I built a little fort in the living room and told ghost stories
before bed. Hail and I told Drake the story of a demon hunting a little baby
and a brave hero who saved him with magic. We didn’t tell him it was a true
story.

*          *          *

Mordon woke us early in the morning and took us home,
where Dad was asleep and Mom looked exhausted. Our morning was typical and too
short. Having a structured day was no fun at all. I loved not knowing what
would happen next, who I would meet, or what enemies I would face. Instead, we
went to school, where I found myself being forced to run in shorts that were
way too big. Since Dad didn’t come home in time to get me some shorts, I was
wearing a pair Hail had outgrown, but they were big enough to fit two of me in.

By the end of class, I was sweaty and angry with the
coach. Apparently, he didn’t get the hint with my harmless little jinx, so my
mercy was at an all-time low. I always loved the story of Pinocchio. Until I
deemed him thoroughly punished, the P.E. teacher would find his nose growing
every time he yelled at anyone.

Hail was waiting to walk me to math. “What has you
grinning?” he asked.

“I just took care of something. Why are you all wet?”

Hail was wearing a white t-shirt with jeans. He
looked down at his drenched shirt. “Wrestling. I spent more time holding back
my strength than anything else.”