The Demon Trials (The Demon Trials #1)

Chapter 11

Here comes Saturday. After an exhausting practice and school yesterday, I am so glad it is the weekend. Today is also special because of the fact I’m going to be on a date I like to call it the friendly date; it is not a real date. As I look over my alarm clock, I sort of mentioned to Megan yesterday if it would be okay if I come and get her from her place.

She obliged in the most exuberant way. I called her, but I could not have known what facial expression she was doing while she was talking to me. She usually has her eyes widen and her lips semi-opened soon given way to her infamous smile. That is what Megan is still known for whatever she gets what she wants.

I admit it. I have some feelings, but it is not like Shakespearean romance as my English teacher tends to say. Megan is bonifide cute. A very likable girl; no wonder she is the most popular girl in school. Guys always flock to her like she was a beautiful model. Her father is most known because of his sugar manufacturing. One of the key commodities for Louisiana is sugar canes; Megan’s father’s business turns those canes into the sugar we use for coffee, cereal, baking, and other stuff. So to have a rich father is a plus and another plus that he has ties with the governor.

Liana would kill for some sugar cookies which are her absolute favorite. In fact, maybe I should go to the bakery to buy some sugar cookies and give it to Liana as my apology gift. However, trying to take the easy way out would be silly. But ever since the museum fallout, I tried to call her, but no response. I felt selfish in a way that I did that flirting right in front of her. I understand we have not been communicative as we have been yet the reason is mostly due to me still keeping the fact I’m a demon and if I show my powers Asmodeus and his lackeys could find me, mom, and Liana. 

Not trying to call her and leave her messages like she did when I could not answer her calls probably might make me feeble. And to make this even harder on myself, I know she wanted to do this mission to find that prophecy. If I did not hide anything from her, I would have let her join me and forget about dating Megan, but I need to do this myself, so I can complete the first trial.

Checking the time, I told Megan that I would pick up in a hour. I head to my closet inside my bathroom. As I open the door, I start checking out each article of dress shirts and notice the light blue. I like that.

I remembered mom brought me that when we had to go to church a year ago. I rarely wore it again for some strange reason. For any reason, I grab the shirt and sort of sniff if to see that it might be stinky. After a short whiff, I judge it as clean. I quickly grab the iron at the bottom of the closet; I lay the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron, I heat up the creases from the shirt. A minute later, I finish the ironing. I turn it off. Already putting on my dress black pants, dress shoes, and then I put on my light blue dress shirt.

Enclosing each button as the fabric lay on my chest feeling the warmth from the iron pressing. I look to the mirror glancing over my dark brown hair; I grab some gel from beneath the sink; take a good swoop and layer the gel over my hair and scalp. Rubbing the gooiness of the gel to my short wavy hair, it rounds the sides giving a neat and tidy edge; to give it some nice shine. Taking a look back, I see I did a fabulous job in smoothing my hair. I take a bottle of cologne and spray a tiny bit near my neck. I smell myself to see if there is no more stink. There is none.

Checking the time, I see that I have thirty minutes left. I swallow up my nerves and walk out of my room to proceed out of the house.

22 minutes later, mom gave me the number and cash I need for a taxi. Riding inside the back of the yellow cab, I sit patiently as I observe the taxi driver; he is Black and around his late 30s having six feet of dreadlocks that length to his rib area. I see around him, a Jamaican flag and a portrait of him and a female—could be his wife.