Redemption

Chapter 9

He will not stop now. He has corrupted the Order. And he has an insatiable thirst for blood. His control is impressive, but limited. I have watched too long, forbidden to interfere. She will not be cowed, I know her well. What I had not counted on was the Other. He has surprised me.
~Bezalial~

The day passed too quickly, maybe because school was mainly spent arguing with my philosophy teacher who refused to let me do extra credit. My aunt had made good on her promise to talk to Mr. James. But, as I suspected, he wanted me to re-write the paper, and I refused to do it. It put us at an impasse and neither one of us was budging.

"You're looking at it all wrong, Ms. Blainey," Mr. James growled.

I scowled. "I argued a point I felt strongly about, and I made sure to include references to back it. It was a good paper."

Mr. James' fists clenched. From where she sat, Mrs. Pierson, the so-called counselor, couldn't see his restraint, but I could. With his golden hair, amber eyes, and muscled physique, he resembled a Greek god. His personality, however, resembled a pit bull. "The paper wasn't about disproving Camus. It was about the man himself, his life, his philosophy," Mr. James ground out.

I shrugged. "I didn't like his philosophy."

Mr. James' face reddened and Mrs. Pierson sat up abruptly behind her desk. Now, she decided to intervene. "Now, now ..." she soothed.

Her voice droned on into the background. I simply wasn't interested in being pacified. The argument was pointless. It was obvious we were at a stalemate. In the end, I spent three hours in the counselor's office having a teacher/student conference that resulted in me telling Mr. James to screw his paper and to covet the F he gave me. I simply refused to re-write something I believed in, one that I felt effectively disproved Camus' theory. It was going to piss my aunt off royally. Not because the paper wasn't good. It was. But because I wouldn't change it to earn a better grade.
I was so thoroughly irritated by the time I left the office, I slammed into the bathroom and stayed there. As a senior, I only had five periods, and Mr. James had wasted most of them.

I slid down the restroom wall.

"Smoke?" someone asked.

I glanced up to find Jessie Grey leaning up against one of the bathroom stalls. She offered me a cigarette and I took it. I wasn't a smoker, but even that didn't seem to matter anymore.

Taking a quick puff, I handed it back, swallowing the cough that rose up in my throat. "Thanks."

She shrugged and puffed on the butt. "It's a bad habit."

I didn't know Jessie well. We were both seniors, but she was a loner who spent most of her time secluded. She didn't do much to invite company, and honestly, she was downright scary.

She blew smoke toward the ceiling. Her torn jeans, loose black off-the-shoulder tee, and short black hair suited her. A red lacy bra flashed occasionally through the shirt, and I felt a momentary flash of envy. She looked like a C. I was barely out of an A.

"You got probs?" Jessie asked.

My gaze caught hers. "Nothing big," I answered vaguely.

She pushed away from the wall. "Whatever."
Putting the butt out, she fanned the air with her hand before pulling an aerosol can out of her backpack. The air freshener hinted of apples.

She popped the can back into her bag. "You should watch your back, Blainey," Jessie said suddenly.

I looked up, startled. "What?"

"Just watch it." Her face was empty, her eyes dark. The bathroom suddenly felt like a scene from a Stephen King novel. She leaned close. "He's coming."