How to Save Your School From Soul Stealing Demons

CHAPTER FIVE

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11TH
6:35 AM
THE RIVERA'S KITCHEN

The sugary cereal clanks against my bowl as I pour it in, followed by a swoosh of milk. Mom eyes the meal with a raised brow, but says nothing—it's not the breakfast of a baseball superstar, but we're lucky I've been managing to eat lately at all, and she knows it.

The past week and a half at Vanterbest hasn't been so bad. Actually, to give it the credit it deserves, it's been pretty damn good. Good enough for me to gain a little weight back, so I don't look so much like death anymore.

Maybe being somewhere new doesn't help me forget about the accident, but it is a relief no one here knows about the crash. I know things back home never would have been the same. Every time I walked into a classroom there were heads turning my way with looks of pity. Every teacher, counselor, and student knew about what happened. Even people from different schools heard about what I did. But here? I'm just normal; a nobody.

Watts is cool, and I gotta say, it's nice to have a friend again. I didn't realize how much I missed it. We've been biking to and from school together every day, and the short rides have made me realize one good thing about a small town: nothing's that far from anything else.

I'm at the table slurping down the last of the milk from my bowl when Mom turns on the TV in the living room, sitting down with her latest knitting project. And to my surprise, the newscaster on the screen is standing in front of Vanterbest with a grim expression.

"...never came home from school on Monday, and hasn't been seen since early that morning."

A picture pops up on screen next to the woman. A pale teenage boy with short, curly hair and a crooked smile. He looks familiar, so I guess I've seen him around at school, but I don't know him by name.

"The Pines family are asking anyone who might know about Greg's whereabouts to please contact Greenfield County police with information. Back to you, Jim."

The story cuts there as I realize why I recognized the picture. Greg Pines was the one Watts pointed out on my first day. The former outsider who was sitting at Hemani's table.

Mom shakes her head as Jim segues into another story. "Another teenage runaway. I guess kids your age are just as dramatic in Bradford as they are in Houston, huh?"

I laugh, getting up to put my bowl in the sink. "Yeah, I realized that pretty fast."

She doesn't know the half of it. Bradford kids are on another level of high school hierarchy bullshit. Dramatic is the perfect word, since it seems like most of them are trying to act like they're the antagonist in one of those cheesy after-school specials.

The doorbell rings, and I head over to the door, slinging on my backpack.

"Have a good day, Superman," Mom says from the couch.

"I'll try."

Sometimes it's hard being around my parents, talking or joking with them when Miguel hangs over all our heads. It's gotten a little easier over the past few months, but I know it'll never be easy. I'll probably never stop wondering after every conversation if they hate me, if they too wish it'd been me instead of Miguel.

Mom calls out a goodbye as I close the door behind me. Watts is standing on the sidewalk with his blue and yellow bike, bouncing on his heels.

"Did you hear?" He asks as I pull my bike from behind the big bush in front of the house. Another nice thing about a small town: I don't have to worry about my bike getting stripped or stolen if I leave it outside. Then again, back home, I didn't have to worry since we had a garage. But hey, I'm trying to look on the bright side.