Hellhound (Supernatural #1)

9: The Way to Answers

To Kiss, verb.

1. To join lips in respect, affect, love, passion, etc.
2. To express a thought, feeling, etc, by a contact of the lips.

***

The next day at school, Tate didn't show up until a few seconds before the bell. Consequently, Devin showed up next to my locker, out of nowhere I might add, startling me half to death. I closed my locker and suddenly there he was. I must have jumped with fright. His eyes were dark, and I wasn't simply talking about their color. There were dark shadows under his eyes like he hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep over the past week. He even looked a lot paler than usual. Was he sick? Maybe it was a blessing that, if he was sick, he didn't look like he had walked to school in the pouring rain.

"Where is Tate?" he grumbled. No 'hello'. No 'how are you'. Nothing.

"Good morning to you too," I replied flatly. Then I pushed past him, hurting my shoulder in the process. He hadn't budged an inch. Had the guy been chiseled out of rock? That might explain the muscles and the throbbing in my shoulder.

I didn't get very far. Barely a step later, Devin grabbed my wrist, easily stopping me. His grip was so tight, I was afraid he might snap my wrist. "Sawyer, where is Tate? It's important." He sounded desperate yet threatening. The look in his eyes was almost a crazy one.

"I don't know. I'm not his babysitter," I told him, my voice colored with a hint of fear and a hint of angry annoyance. "But, if it makes you feel better, when I see him, I will let him know that you're looking for him." I stared at him, willing him to let me go. I found that the longer I stared at him, the heavier and the more intense his gaze became. The more difficult it became to actually hold his gaze. Eventually, he turned his eyes away from mine and let me go.

He turned around and walked away. He would have disappeared without another glance at me if I hadn't gone after him. Now it was my turn to grab his wrist, though it obviously wasn't the same vice-like grip as he had used on me. "Devin, you should go see the nurse. You need some sleep." He grumbled something that made it clear he wouldn't go. "Go. I'll go ask if you went, and if not, I'll voice my concerns about your wellbeing and let the school deal with it," I told him firmly. This was not up for discussion; in that moment I very much felt responsible for him, almost like a parent. And I was a firm believer that parents should never argue with their kids; if they told their kid to go see the nurse, then said kids should go see the nurse. That was the message I tried to convey to Devin as I stared him dead in the eye. He stared at me, his eyes clouded with confusion, but eventually he nodded.

When he turned, he did go in the general direction of the nurse's office. Hopefully, he would actually get some sleep. His hunched form walked away, not really paying attention to where he was going, forcing everyone to hurriedly step out of his way. Part of me wondered what kind of relationship he had with Stella; could she get him to do things like this? Or was he the one in charge? For some reason, I was convinced Devin did whatever Stella asked of him. That brief time we had spoken of her together and the many looks I had seen him throw in her direction were enough for anyone to see that the guy was whipped. No doubt Stella held all the power, and no doubt she would be too shy to abuse it. But in moments like these, I could definitely imagine her putting her foot down and exerting her power over him.

As glad as I was to see him head to the nurse's office though, I was still a bit shocked that he actually listened to me. Oh well, who was I to question a miracle?

But, like I was saying, Tate didn't show up until the very last second, slipping into the classroom right as the teacher was closing the door. When he sat down, he was panting like he had just run a marathon on his way to class. Still, he immediately got all his stuff out and looked ready for class to begin. In fact, he looked ready to take notes and be a model student - something he had never tried to be since he started at Saint Faith High. Equally surprising, the second the teacher began the lecture, he started scribbling on an empty page in his notebook at top speed. Never had I seen him so focused and flustered at the same time. It was kind of comical. Only, I soon found that he wasn't taking notes but rather writing notes.