“Yunie, wait!”
My best friend, drunk on righteous anger, marched across the library. In her head Quentin wasn’t only a two-timer; he was also responsible for making me miss her concert. She went up and gave him a ringing slap across the face that could have knocked Baigujing’s teeth loose.
“Pbthbdth! What the hell!?” Quentin shouted.
“You creep!” Yunie roared. “Take them off or I’m going to rip them off!”
She lunged at his face and he caught her by the wrists. It gave me enough time to wrap my arms around her waist and lift her away. The good cop/bad cop routine worked better when bad cop wasn’t smaller than most freshmen.
Of course the room had to be packed today. Everyone was laughing at us. Even without the boost from our half-assed making up, this was the kind of drama that could power Yunie for weeks. She’d be queen of the school by the end of it.
I, on the other hand, needed to shut this down. I put down my friend, grabbed my whatever-Quentin-was, and hauled ass out the door.
“What the hell was that?” Quentin asked once we were safe from prying eyes. “Did you tell her to do that?”
“No,” I said. “She’s upset about you and Rachel.”
Quentin furrowed his brow. “Why would she be upset about that?”
“I have no idea,” I said. The benefit of time had given me the ability to speak to Quentin in monotone, rather than whatever bird language I was yelping this morning. “I’m certainly fine with it. All I ask is that you not carry on with her right in front of me.”
He frowned again. “Everywhere is right in front of you, you know that?”
Ahem.
I knew Quentin was referring to my true sight. If I ever turned it on at school, I’d be able to see him no matter where he was. Deep down, way deep down, I knew that was what he meant. No question.
But.
There was also the slightest chance that he was either A) making a comment about my height like he’d never done before, in a “yo’ momma sits AROUND the house” sort of joke, or B) accusing me of being clingy and a tagalong, which honestly felt a lot worse.
I didn’t want to play interpreter in my current mood. I shut my eyes and walked past him.
With nothing going the way it was supposed to, I did what I always did. I threw myself under the mountain. Schoolwork.
That afternoon in study hall I was so deep in a paper that it took me a minute to notice the fire alarm ringing.
Someone shook me gently by the shoulders.
“Genie,” Androu said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
I blinked and looked around the classroom. Everyone else had left.
I swatted off his attempt to take me by the hand and ran into the hallway to see what was going on.
The air was hazy, like someone had smeared Vaseline on a camera lens. I got that there was a fire in the building somewhere, but this was too much smoke, too fast. SF Prep wasn’t made out of dried pine needles.
Red Boy, I thought to myself in a panic. We spoke the devil’s name too many times and now he was here. I turned on true sight.
And instantly regretted it. The irritating smoke became full-blown acid. It felt like I’d just scrubbed my pupils with sandpaper. I couldn’t keep the vision going for more than a second before doubling over in tears.
But it was enough to catch a quick glimpse of blue-black light. A yaoguai, in my school.
I started pushing in that direction.
“Genie!” Androu shouted. “You’re going the wrong way!”
I hadn’t made it much closer to the source of the demonic energy when I noticed a teacher slumped over in his classroom, passed out. My first thought was that someone had cast sleep on him, but it could have also been a regular old fainting spell. Mr. Yates wasn’t exactly a spring chicken.