She glanced up without stopping her mop in the opposite corner. “Doing what?”
“This.” I gestured with the handle at all the gleaming surfaces in the tacky bathroom. “Helping me clean. Isn’t it a little above and beyond your job description?”
“I like hard work. Keeps my thoughts clear. And I do a lot of things that aren’t part of my job.” She plopped the mop into the bucket of sudsy water, wrung it out, and slapped it back against the floor. “And I’m doing it because it’s always easier to clean up with a buddy in case they want to talk about something other than the best way to achieve a streak-free shine.”
I nodded, not completely satisfied with her answer. “Yeah, but why do you care?”
She smiled. “One, because you passed your drug test.”
Good to know. Somehow, I’d almost forgotten about having to pee in a cup for the first time in my life. “And second?”
“Because you deserve to be here and not in juvie.” She stopped mopping to wipe the sweat from her forehead.
I tilted my head at the floor and pretended to be much more interested in its cleanliness than anyone had any right to be. “Why does Miss Molly do this? Keep all these kids here, I mean?”
“You mean, why not just let you all slip through the cracks?” She inched closer, careful of the wet floor. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Probably?” The last secret I’d shared with Zane about Metatron’s visit hadn’t been well-received, so I wasn’t so sure about spilling any more.
“When she was young, Miss Molly was a lot more like you than she is now.”
I quirked an eyebrow.
“Parents not around. A thief. A wild child. A recreational drug user.”
A picture of Miss Molly in her rollers, femstache, and oversize sweatshirt floated in front of my vision with a smoking joint plugged into her mouth. I chuckled and shook my head.
Mrs. Crenshaw laughed. “I know. Hard to believe, right?”
“To say the least.”
“Anyway, someone looked past all that and treated her like what she was.”
“A hoodlum?” I asked.
“A child.”
The way she said it reminded me a lot of Mauve, how she always called me that and how it sounded both harsh and kind at the same time, which made Mrs. Crenshaw the closest thing I had to home. I glanced down at the mop, a sudden ache in my throat.
“Someone gave Miss Molly a chance,” Mrs. Crenshaw continued. “Took her in. Taught her discipline. Put her on the right road. So, when she got in the position to give some of that back, she opened up this place. A last chance before juvie for nonviolent offenders. She’s put more troubled kids through college than the state, that’s for sure.” Something like pride gleamed in her dark eyes. “And people called her crazy for doing this. They said she’d wind up broke and bitter.”
“Well…she does seem slightly bitter.” I scrunched up my face, half afraid she’d take that the wrong way.
Mrs. Crenshaw winked. “That’s because she has to deal with all you hoodlums.”
I laughed. “Fair enough.”
“Now, let’s finish up. We have three more bathrooms after this one, and it’s almost lunch.”
My mouth popped open, my mind fixated on my appointment with Elia during lunch to raise a little Hell. It took no time at all to finish the rest of the bathrooms since I’d never moved so fast in my life.
When we finished, Mrs. Crenshaw checked her watch. “It’s lunch. So, you’ll be toeing the line from now on?”
I nodded, almost too eagerly. “Yeah, sure. All ten toes will worship that line to the tune of angels singing.”
She gave me a warning look. “I have my eye on you.”
“Lucky me.” I grinned as I peeled off my gloves and tossed them in the trash can, then turned on my heel and raced back to the dorm.
Kids were breezing through the halls, eating and laughing. I hoped I wasn’t too late. Ignoring everyone lounging on their beds in the dorm, I went for my bag, slipped all the keys into my pocket, and sprinted to meet Elia.
It was time I had a little fun.
Minutes later, Elia and I crouched against the wall and poked our heads around the corner like two girls in a corny teen comedy film called Spy Delinquents.
I scanned the hall. It was empty save for one balding janitor about halfway down, leaning against the wall next to Miss Molly’s office while coughing and peering down at his phone.
“What now?” I asked.
Elia straightened. “Sal is always lingering.” Her gray eyes flashed, reminding me of small thunderstorms. “Just do your thing and hurry up.”
With that, she shoved me out into the hall.
I stumbled, righted myself, and glanced back at her. “My thing?”
Oh, of course. How could I forget my thing? Likely because I didn’t know it in the first damned place.
Elia waved me along. I peeked over at Sal, who studied me with interest. I smoothed down most of the pockets on my cargoes and headed toward him. As I did, I smiled and tried to figure out what this “thing” was. We were both about to find out.
9
When I reached Sal, he pocketed his phone. “Miss Kasey.” He had a kind smile that made his hazel eyes crinkle so much they all but disappeared. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating lunch?”
“Probably.”
There was an awkward moment in which he stood staring at me with one eyebrow perked, and I searched my scattered thoughts for something to say.
Finally, he chuckled and placed his hands into the pockets of his coveralls.
“Well…” He drew out the word. “Whatcha doing here?”
I rocked back onto my heels and splayed my fingers. “I…” What? What “thing” was I supposed to do? “Just wanted to say hi. How are you?”
It sounded lame even in my own ears.
His salted eyebrows rose. “I’m great. Never been better.”
“Great. That’s really…really great.” I glanced behind me, hoping for a little support, maybe even a hint, but Elia was out of sight around the corner. “Uh, Miss Molly said she needed you in the, uh…bathroom. There’s a flood.”
“Is there now? That’s funny because Miss Molly just texted me that the front tire on the van could use some air. She’s on her way to city hall right now about the budget.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course she is.” I bounced my head too enthusiastically. The sunlight flooding through the large windows overheated my skin. “This was before. She must’ve forgotten to tell you.”
“Hmm. All righty, I guess I better go check it out.” He turned and limped away toward the other end of the hallway.
Elia stood at my side within seconds. “Lying works, too, I guess.”
So I took it lying wasn’t my thing. Then what was?
She held out her hand, and I glanced down at it as if I were expecting a magic trick.
“The key, Kasey.”
“Oh.” I reached into my pocket, retrieved the key ring, and held it out to her.
She frowned as she plucked through them. “Which one is it?”
“I have no idea.” I glanced behind us.
When Sal discovered the bathrooms were fine, he would come back. He might text Miss Molly about some fishy behavior back at the school and force her to turn back.
“I mean, I don’t remember,” I said.
She tried the keys one by one until finally there was a low click. She slid the winning key into her own pocket as she slipped inside the unlocked door.
“I’ll take my key back, thank you very little,” I said, shutting the door behind us.
“Sure.” She patted her pocket and smiled. “I’m just keeping it safe for a while.”
Yeah. Safer than a snake babysitting some cute, furry mice.
I glanced around the inside of Miss Molly’s overstuffed office. Bookshelves lined every wall and were swollen to capacity with thick texts on child psychology. On the far wall stood a medium-sized desk
that was almost swallowed in file folders and unopened mail. Two narrow doors along the right wall were closed, and in the opposite corner was a neon pink filing cabinet with sections of the alphabet slipped behind plastic windows the size of matchbooks.
Elia tried one of the drawers on the filing cabinet. Locked. “Let me see your keys again.”
I reluctantly handed them over, and when none of them worked, I snatched them back, minus the office key.
She hunted around in the desk drawers while I surveyed the room since I had no idea what we were looking for in the first place. In the bottom drawer, she found all of our cell phones, but slammed it closed again and searched another.
Her eyes lit up as she held up a small screwdriver and a bobby pin. “Watch and learn.” She crossed to the filing cabinet, and within seconds had jimmied the P-T drawer’s lock.
I eagerly crowded behind her. “Impressive. Hey, do the H through O drawer, too, will you?” I was curious to read what my file said.
She popped that one open, then pulled out a thick folder from the P-T drawer and took it to Miss Molly’s desk where she sat and began to read through it.
I thumbed through the folders until I came to one marked Morrison. For some reason, my false name written on a plastic label gave me a sinking feeling. I took in a deep breath, pulled out the file, and opened it.
There was a picture of me pinned to the inside of the folder that almost dropped me to my knees. It was from when I was much younger. My freckled arms were wrapped around Daisy, my favorite hellhound from when he was still alive. He always wore that lovable, sloppy grin that showed a lot of fang. But this picture had been slightly altered. It took place outside, instead of in Hell, and Daisy’s red eyes were soft brown. Still, emotions stormed through me. That was me. I even recognized the red dress I wore with its puffy sleeves and shiny black belt, but not the rhinestone necklace or the—were those fake cat ears on my head?
Why change the picture? Why try to change who I was by stripping me of my powers and abandoning me in a group home for my own protection? Maybe I wasn’t fit to rule Hell if I couldn’t take a soul, but how would being here help that?
“Perfect,” Elia said from behind me.
“What’s perfect?” I half turned toward her.
A shy smile settled on her lips. The chair squeaked as she stood, and she crossed the office to put the file back into the cabinet. “I have an idea.”
“Sounds dangerous. Count me in.”
She grinned and held her hand out. “I need the key to the service van.”
A pinprick of doubt deflated my willingness to help her, but I plugged it up and dug into my pocket for the keys once more.
Seeming to know which one it was this time, she plucked a silver key with a black X out of my palm. “Come on.” She started for the door.
I glanced down at my folder. “Go ahead without me.”
“This is supposed to be a joint mission.”
I smiled at her dramatic use of words. “It is. I just want to copy some of this stuff.”
Her answering grin was wide, like a mischievous Cheshire cat. “Great idea. Meet me in the dorm at dinner.”
“Got it.”
“Great.” She practically skipped to the door, leaving me alone.
Miss Molly’s office didn’t have a copy machine—and Sal was bound to return any second—so I took the file of my false life to the upstairs library. The deserted third floor of the learning annex was a sad thing, really, with metal shelves lined with a stingy number of books that were literally taped together to keep them from falling apart.
A thick-bodied Asian woman with multiple rings on all of her fingers sat at the front desk. She didn’t stir as I passed the row of four box-shaped computers that looked like they weren’t from this century. Overhead, fluorescent lights flickered, and a buzz filled the room as if there were flies hiding in the walls. I found a comfy spot in a study nook and opened my file to the first page.
Kasey Morrison was sixteen years old and orphaned when she was ten. She’d been arrested for dozens of petty crimes since the age of twelve, mostly theft, and a big one of drug possession about a year ago. That one had landed her here. She spent the first year at Miss Molly’s under strict house arrest.
As I poured over the rest of “my” file, a strange feeling overcame me. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and my heart pulsed in my neck. Flooded with the feeling that someone was watching me, I hugged my knees to my chest in my seat and slowly turned around. Even though nothing was there, the air around me seemed to crackle, as if there was an invisible livewire snapping at the tattered books. If I put my feet on the floor, I swore I would’ve been electrocuted.
“Hello?” I reached out, and a ripple of energy breezed through my fingers. I jerked my hand away.
The buzz filled my entire body until I was afraid I might burst. Sweat beaded across my forehead with an electrical sizzle as if my face had teleported into the inside of a frying pan. Then, just like that, the energy crackle was gone.
Breathing heavily, I slumped over in my seat and wiped the sweat from my forehead. Beside me, a throat cleared. I jumped, then cut my gaze left.
The librarian stood there with her purse hanging from the crook of her arm while she tapped her foot. “I’m closing up, kid.”
I nodded and pushed to my feet. Purple bruised the sky outside the window, but when I sat down, the sun had been at high noon. What the Hell had happened to me?
“Right.” I shook myself, snatched up my file, and followed her out and down the stairs.
My stomach tightened with hunger, so I headed for the cafeteria for dinner. It was closed since I’d lost track of time. I had no choice but to head back to the dorm. I’d missed Elia’s service van shenanigans, whatever they’d been.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t really pay much attention to the crashing and pounding of feet behind the girls’ dormitory doors.
“Go get Miss Molly!” someone yelled from inside.
The doors burst open, spilling light into the hallway. A girl with multiple piercings darted out. I grabbed her by the elbow. She jerked to a stop, her eyes wild, and her dirty blonde hair flying around her face as she glanced back into the dorm.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Agatha. She’s having a total freak-out!” She yanked her arm away and sped down the hall.
Agatha? Bummer. At this news, my inexplicable unease melted away.
I didn’t care what was happening with Agatha. Unless she was peeing on my mattress again.
A sudden wail ripped through the girls’ dorm as I entered. A crowd of girls crouched in a circle in the middle of the room, all mumbling words of comfort. Scattered between them and me along the floor were wigs. Dozens of them. Long wigs. Short wigs. Red wigs. Blonde wigs. My eyes widened at the bizarre sight. I bent over to pick up the one closest to me and then made my way over to the circle of girls.
“He saw me without my hair!” Agatha shrieked from the center.
I pushed through the other girls to see. Agatha rocked on the floor like a small child. Her shaggy brown hair had been replaced by a head of thin blonde strands with several bald patches.
A chill passed through me.
“Agatha,” Elia said, her voice small, as she handed Agatha a brown hairpiece. “Just put your wig back on.”
Agatha batted it away, and it skidded across the floor. “Why are all these wigs in here? Stop tormenting me!”
She lost it then—sobbing, thrashing, and clawing at her own hair and skin. Elia bumped into my side, and when I turned away from the horror that was Agatha, Elia winked at me. Then her gaze shifted to Agatha, and a neutral expression painted her face once more.
The chill around me turned into a true frost. I backed away to the double doors, one of the wigs still clutched tight in my fist. Had Elia put these wigs here to tip Agatha over the edge? And who was it Agatha had said saw her without a wig? Mikey? But why?
&nbs
p; Seconds later, Miss Molly came bounding in. It took her five minutes to get Agatha calmed down. With her arm around Agatha’s slumped shoulders, she eyed all of us in turn.
“I want to see everyone in the common area in fifteen minutes.”
Her gaze burned when it touched me. I was sure everyone around me felt it, too. She left us with Agatha gathered tight to her side, her mule shoes squeaking against the floor as she went. The door clicked closed.
I let my breath out in a sluggish leak. I didn’t know what I expected when I came into the dorm, but it sure as kittens wasn’t the slow crawl of dread that now buzzed up my spine. I was frozen in place by it. My gaze jerked back to Elia.
She’d climbed onto her bed with a book. She folded in on herself, as if hiding the girl who had done this back into a dark, Hellish place that made even me tremble with fear.
10
The story came to me in snippets in the common room. Heather, the girl I’d grabbed in the hallway, told me that Agatha had been in the bathroom.
“You know how she always showers alone, right?”
I nodded even though I didn’t know that as the boys piled into the room. Zane caught my eye, wearing a sleeveless shirt—turned inside out, of course—and basketball shorts. His muscles flexed as he moved with hidden grace. He sat down in the corner and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, effectively ignoring everything in my direction.
“So, we heard screaming in the hall,” Heather continued. “Something about a wig being stolen. We go outside, and get this.” Her blue eyes widened. “She’s in the middle of the hall, dressed only”—she held up her hands for some kind of dramatic effect—“in a towel.”
At this point, a group had gathered around, including Mikey. I frowned at Heather. She seemed way too excited to tell this story.
Flipping her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder, she turned to Mikey. “What were you doing there anyway?”
He lifted his chin at me. “I was there because of you.”
I cut my gaze to him. “What?”
Daring the Devil (Reigning Hell Book 1) Page 7
