Page 10 of Demon Stalked
“Poem. Yes. Thanks.” I shut the door of my office and turn back to my desk. I need to write a poem.
It’s a second before I realize Janie’s still there. I wave dismissively at her. “Time’s up. Unless you’re any good at love poems.”
She wipes her eyes and gives me a furious scowl—as if I haven’t seen a million of those in my lifetime, many far more potent than hers—and then stomps out of my office, slamming the door behind her.
Finally.
Peace.
I lock my door and get started on my poem.
Three hours later, I wade through an entire notebook’s worth of balled up poetry and unlock my door.
“Clara?” I say wearily. “I need a different idea.”
My best poem?
Your eyes are as sharp as claws
The fire in you burns hot, and I want to smother you with kisses
Yeah you don’t need to hear more; you get the idea.
It sucked.
I cannot give Katrina something that sucks.
I stare expectantly at Clara, and she blinks at me. “Um, what about writing her a song? That’s music instead of words.”
“Really, Clara?”
“Well, I mean, that junior boy, Johnny, he’s gotten pretty good at guitar in only a few months. And the girls just crowd around him now, so yeah, I think it’s pretty romantic.”
Johnny. Johnny. I search my memory bank and recall a gawky looking guy, with black hair and thick glasses, who likes to hang out on senior hill though he’s not one.
Hell’s kind of guy, this Johnny,I think to myself as I head for the hill.
Clara’s right on the money. Johnny’s got three chicks fawning over him as they eat peanut butter sandwiches that their mommies probably made for them. He’s taken off his prep school tie like some kind of rebel and is strumming his guitar as he sits in the grass at the base of the hill.
“Go away,” I shoo the girls off, waving my hand until they scatter like annoying little pigeons, and then I take a seat next to Johnny.
He frowns at me.
“I need you to teach me how to play guitar.”
“What?” he scoffs. “No.”
I narrow my eyes. “Pick a girl.”
He raises his brows. “What?”
“Any girl in this school. Pick one, and I’ll get her to flash her boobs at you.”
His jaw drops. “That’s, like, illegal.”
I raise a brow. “Only if you tell. Would you tell?”
“Boob shot? Any girl? My pick?”
