Page 81 of Possession

Where is he? Is he keeping things from me?

“Hey, so…” Simon says once we’ve come to a stop outside of my door. “Me and some others are getting together tonight. You should come.”

I blink, not sure if I heard him right. “Getting together and doing what?”

He gives me a look. “Just chilling. Like friends.”

“Like friends,” I echo, wondering why he’s offering. I can’t give him anything—what could he possibly want? “You’re being rather… nice to me.”

“How else should I be?”

“I mean…” I start, then pause. Maybe it isn’t the best idea to remind him why I’m hated, but I want to know why he’s different. “Most people blame me.”

He shrugs and doesn’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about. “That was before,” Simon says. “He’s out of you, and you’re yourself. I mean, you are yourself, right?”

“I am.”

“Well, then things are different now. Most of the people here thought you were corrupted, but now you’re just a regular person who got the short end of the stick. We had a lesson on the Grand Mage binding Aris. They needed a host, and it just happened to be you. It could’ve been anyone, though. I don’t know why it was you, but your life doesn’t have to be over.”

I don’t say anything, thinking of my mother. If this is true, then she’s wrong about me; she’s always been wrong. I should feel smug, but my stomach just twists.

“Maybe you can start again,” says Simon after a moment.

“How?” I ask him.

Simon smiles. “Come hang with us later.”

***

Henry doesn’t show for the rest of the day, but it’s not hard to find things to do; I explore the dorms, visit the cafeteria again, and rearrange my furniture. By the time I’m done, I’m ready to visit Simon.

I’m not sure what kind of gathering it’s supposed to be. I’ve never been to a party, except for birthdays and the one where that cult tried to kill me, so it’s hard to know what to wear—not that I have many options. I decide to go for casual and apply light makeup, wanting to look pretty but not give any of the guys the wrong idea.

I debate on whether I should go early, on time, or be fashionably late, and by the time I’ve decided to arrive on schedule, it’s five minutes past when I was supposed to be there.

Same as this morning, I stand outside of his room and struggle to muster the courage to knock. Simon was nice, but maybe that’s a front. Did he invite me because he likes me, or am I supposed to be a party trick?

Maybe this is a mistake.

The thought of spending the rest of the night alone in my room finally brings me to rap my knuckles against the wood. I know I won’t forgive myself if I don’t at least try to be normal.

Simon answers the door with a smile, and eyes lighting up at the sight of me. “You’re here! Come on in!” he says, turning back to call, “Mary’s here!”

A few cheers sound out at that, and I’m not quite sure how to take it. It’s like an announcement that the drinks or entertainment has arrived.

Simon’s room is bigger than my own, with five boys spread out on two different beds. They’re wearing the school uniform in various stages of undress—tie on, tie off, blazer unbuttoned or removed. Like Simon, their faces are youthful, and I’m assuming they’re his age, which is a little younger than me.

On the ground is a drink table and a few chairs the group has ignored in favor of cushions, while loud rap music blasts. Strange smelling smoke, like a mix between herbs and onion, conceals the corners of the room, and I spot a pipe getting passed around. It’s all such an affront to the senses that I have no idea how I didn’t pick up on any of it from the hallway.

Like he can read my mind, Simon grins. “It’s a spell Leo learned in his cloaking class. He can block senses in a concentrated area. No one knows what we’re doing here.”

So no one can hear me if I scream for help. I take a breath. Why would I immediately go to that? Nothing bad is going to happen.

One of the boys, presumably Leo, takes the pipe from the boys next to him and waves at me as he takes a puff. His inhale is long as he works in a large amount of smoke, and he lets out a slow exhale. “Hi,” he says in a raspy voice.

“What is that?” I ask, taking a seat on one of the chairs. My fingers drum against my legs as I try to convince myself that I’ve not put myself in a bad situation.

Simon sits next to me. “It’s crushed mullroot,” he says. “If heated, it can make you…” He grins stupidly. “You know. It makes things more fun.”

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