Demon Hunters: Book 1 Faith [editing]

Chapter 10

The combination was 40-14-45, but the door wouldn't open. Did Mrs. Brown give her the wrong number? She could just pry the door off its hinges.

"Did you turn the knob to the right? It's supposed to go left for the first number, then back the other way passed that number to the next, and then back to the left." Mason insisted on standing beside her while she figured out the lock.

Zoe turned the knob combination again, but it still wouldn't budge.

"There's a trick to it. Hold on." Mason leaned over and banged on the metal door. "Now try."

Zoe had never opened a high school locker before. This time the latch opened. I should have thought about that. "Thanks."

"No problem." Mason beamed with pride. "Listen I've got to go. Your cooking class is right over there." He pointed down the hallway. "Also, study hall will be in the library. That's across from the food court."

"I'm sure I can find it."

"Okay. I will see you later." He walked off.

Finally, he's gone. She knew he was only trying to be helpful, but Zoe really didn't want to deal with boy crushes. She had more important things to attend to like cooking class. Cooking class? Really? Ugh.

Then Zoe saw a man hidden in the shadows behind a stairway, staring at her. Nearly reaching for her dagger, she had already calculated how long it would take to kill this person. The man moved forward, head cast down, and carried a mop and bucket. Japanese? The nametag read, Mr. Osaka.

Mr. Carter, the principal, rushed down the hallway. "Mr. Osaka. We need a cleanup in the girl's restroom in the 200 wing. The second sick kid this week. Sorry about that."

Mr. Osaka bowed to the principal and followed after him, mop and bucket in tow. He stole a glance at Zoe before turning the corner.

The school bell rang. Cooking class. Lucky me!

A tall woman held up a piece of shaped copper. "The art club made these cookie-cutters for us. They are in the shape of a falcon. As you can see, we have a box of them over there." Only a few of the eight students in the class seemed remotely interested.

"Are we making cookies?" A blond girl asked.

"Cookies. Great. Just what I wanted to learn," said the only boy in the class. "As if this class isn't torture enough."

"Shut up, Steven," the blond girl rebuked him. "No one told you to take a cooking class." Well, someone told me to take this class. 

"Okay, that's enough you two." Steven slumped in his chair.

"Look, is she a new student?" The blond girl pointed to Zoe at the door.

"Hello. Welcome to cooking class. I'm Mrs. Mackenzie."

"Coach Mac," a student in the back of the room corrected.

Coach Mac smiled. "Yeah, girls basketball coach. What's your name?"

"Zoe." She handed over her schedule.

Coach Mac took the paper from her hands and wrote down her name and student id number in her roster. "Why don't you sit with Vanessa." The blond girl waved. Zoe would rather sit by Steven. She suspected they would be kindred spirits.

"First, we will make the dough. We are going to make a lot cookies. So, we have lots of dough to prepare. We'll store it until tomorrow when we use these cutters to make falcon cookies. Then on Thursday and Friday comes the hard part. We will decorate them to look like our mascot. It's a fun process, but gets a little old after you get passed 50. Next week they go on sale for the homecoming bake sale. Any questions?"