Devil's Soul

Chapter 19 (what happens when your mentor's a prankster)

When Desmond had said he would see me in the morning, I didn’t think he meant first thing in the morning.

Let me just say that I am not an attractive sleeper. Sometimes I drool, and I think I roll around a lot because I often wake up with a nest instead of hair. If I sleep at home and have the luxury of changing into pajamas, I sleep in a combination of gym shorts and a T-shirt, with a retainer to top the look off.

So I was rather horrified, when I woke up to Desmond sitting in my desk chair, grinning down at me. I almost didn’t recognize him because his trench coat was draped over the backrest of the chair, rather than on his body.

“Rise and shine!” he announced in a cheery British voice.

I groaned and rolled away from him. “What are you doing here?” I asked with a slight lisp that was caused by my retainer.

“I’m your mentor,” he said.

“I think you’re taking your job a little too seriously.” I managed to drag myself out of bed and stumble toward my closet. I grabbed the first long sleeve shirt I saw off a hanger and scooped my favorite pair of jeans off the floor. I didn’t have enough energy to pick out a more creative outfit. I am naturally a morning person, but that is only when I get enough sleep, which didn’t happen very often while I was a student at MIT. “Um, I have to change,” I said to Desmond, since he was still watching me.

“No problem,” he said, heading toward the door that led to the hall.

“No! My mom is out there!” I frantically whispered. “Just face the other way.”

“You don’t want me to meet your mum?” he asked, with a touch of humor in his voice, as he turned to face away from me.

I didn’t reply, not wanting to hurt his feelings. No, I did not want to introduce my mom to my demon mentor.

When I finished changing, I instructed Desmond to stay in my room. Then I went to the kitchen to join my mom for breakfast.

“Do you want some milk for your cereal, mom?” I asked.

She looked up from stirring the dry corn flakes with her spoon. “What?”

I paused by the fridge. “Do you want some milk for your cereal?”

She looked back down at her cereal, confused that there was no milk and then looked back up at me. “Yes, thank you.”

I removed the milk from the fridge and plopped it down in front of her. Then I began to make myself a cup of coffee. “You want some, mom?” She usually said no, probably because she wasn’t constantly sleep deprived like I was, but it didn’t hurt to ask. I loaded the coffee beans into the grinder, waiting for a response, but none came. “Mom?” I prompted. I craned my neck to look at her and saw that she was on the verge of tears.

I rushed to her side, just as she began to sob. I sat in the seat next to hers at the kitchen table and wrapped an arm around her shuddering shoulders. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I murmured. I honestly didn’t know what to do with her when she was like this because I never knew what exactly she was crying about. I wasn’t sure that she knew either.

Her episode didn’t last long. She sniffled with a sense of finality, and her sobs stopped. “I’m okay, Mavis. I’m just not hungry anymore.” She stood and began to spoon her cornflakes back into the box.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Ms. Quinn,” Desmond said, emerging from my room.

I gave him a frantic look, which he ignored. This was really not the time. At least he was wearing the trench coat again, with the collar flipped up, so my mom wouldn’t see his tattoo.