The Devil's Tail - The Devil Chronicles Book One - ROUGH DRAFT

Chapter Twelve

The North Central High School was a diverse magnet school in the center of the city, but only fifteen minutes away by bus ride from Marty's home, though she lived on the outskirts of the suburbs.

The school hallways were empty, devoid of people all throughout the winter break. You'd think someone would be around to take notes or get work done. The very academic and studious type. Daniel and Marty were that type, but being at school dead in the middle of holidays was not ideal for anyone. Why focus on school when life was passing you by and there were so many opportunities in store?

By the beginning of January, principals and superintendents were already paroling the schoolyard, making sure everything was up to speed and checking in on the gardener and maintenance workers that everything was ready for the new semester.

But one person was there all winter break long. That was Michael Gibson, with blonde hair, blue eyes, but not conventionally noticeable by his classmates. He stood in the back of every line and sunk his shoulders. Everyone knew him, and everyone didn't. He was unmistakably quiet and kept to himself, his camera close on hand and clutching a sketchbook. He worked as the photographer for the school's paper and got most of his socialization needs out of that, becoming at least associates with Marty Reiling and Daniel Mulligan.

He tapped at his locker door, watching the principal walk by, nodding as he approached, flashing a smile. "Hello, Mrs. Callors. How are you this morning?"

"Michael, are you still doing chores for Mr. Tavern? You should go home sometime."

He twisted the lock, inputting the code. "Well, I don't mind." He picked out a book from his locker. "Besides, I can get studying done and have peace and quiet while here."

Mrs. Callors nodded slowly. "I admire your determination, son. It's nice seeing students come to school –no matter what time of year it is. Have you thought about your future in college anymore? I'll keep bugging you until you hand me proof of an acceptance letter."

The young teen lowered his head, closing the locker, and tucking the book inside his messenger bag. "Gap years are looking more and more appealing."

She frowned at the bright student. "Do you plan to work that year?"

"College is expensive." He instinctively patted his bag, trying to find a way out of the conversation. "Well, I actually have to head off now, Mrs. Callors. It was a pleasure talking to you." He waved and jogged past the corner before she could object.

Michael kept a low profile in the empty hallway, sticking close to the walls and slithering past the few open doors and the custodian's mop, hanging low from their cart.

He snuck into a door slightly ajar at the end of the hallway with its light off. It was off to the left in a boxed off corner, completely undisturbed and unnoticed from the rest of the school. He doubted that the custodians even cleaned the area because it was so hidden from the rest of the hall.

He walked confidently throughout the darkroom, his posture straight and gait measured. He tossed his bag down in the corner and twirled to sit on a barstool at a desk in the far corner of the small room. He flickered the lamp on, and a damp, yellow light filled the space, peeking through the glass in the door and glowering over the threshold. Specks of dust filled in gaps of light and spun around the room, blurring his vision.

Michael pulled the lamp down closer to the desk and squinted at the various photographs sprawled out before him. He ran his finger over the white space on the Polaroids and pinched the corners on his fingers. They have long since developed and the moments captured long since gone, but it all felt present, like each picture was still occurring on the same timeline he was on and that he was somehow looking into the private moments between friends, unwelcomed and a stranger.