How to Save Your School From Soul Stealing Demons

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4TH
12:04 PM
VANTERBEST HIGH CAFETERIA

Mine and Watts's old table sits empty on the outskirts of the cafeteria as we take our seats with Renny and Ambrose again. I guess this is the new norm, at least until all of this is over. It's hard to imagine the two of them wanting me and Watts to stick around. Especially when both of us still have a hard time looking Ambrose in the eye without flinching, and Watts gets caught staring at Renny every three minutes.

Except for now, since he's way too engrossed in his notebook to pay the rest of us any attention. He's scribbling like a madman, eventually pulling back to look over his work. He nods once, then pushes up his glasses as he raises his head to look at us, sliding the journal to the center of the table.

"Okay. I've written down everything we know so far about the murders, the cult, what happened in the locker room, and Miguel visiting us."

"You might want to write down something else," Ambrose says, not even looking at Watts.

I sigh, crossing my arms on the table. "Let me guess, that we're crazy? That none of it's real?"

"Well, sure, I'd agree with that," he says, nodding in the direction of the doors, "But I was talking about that. Seems like your suspect has a new target."

All three of our heads swivel to watch Kayla and a few other cheerleaders leading a chubby, guy with the world's widest grin over to their table.

"Darren Hoffman," Watts whispers, shaking his head. "He's been flirting with Kayla since the second grade. She's been shooting him down since kindergarten."

Renny slams a hand on the table, drawing both of our gazes. But she's staring at Kayla with a clenched jaw and tears in her eyes.

My heart sinks as her reaction forces the obvious to dawn on me: a new victim insinuates that the old one is already gone.

Ambrose places a hand on Renny's shoulder. "Ren, I'm sure Layne is fine."

"Layne is dead," she snaps, staring into his eyes. "She's dead and you and I both knew that before we knew about any of this," she picks up Watts's journal for emphasis. "So don't try to tell me I'm crazy for saying it."

She turns back to me and Watts with a hard stare, already composed enough for the tears to be gone. Not as if I was about to mention them, anyway, but I am glad she got rid of them before Watts made any awkward attempts at comforting her.

"This is a waste of time," Renny says, tossing the journal back to Watts. "We already know exactly who's behind all this. Why don't we just chop the bitch's head off and call it a day?"

"Kayla's not the problem— she's possessed," Watts reasons. "We might be able to get Bozzanath out of her without killing, or even hurting her."

"And how long is that going to take?" she argues. "Long enough for her to kill Hoffman? Long enough for her to pick out who to kill after that?"

"Look, I get what you're saying, but you can't seriously think we should just... kill her," I reason.

Renny shrugs a shoulder as if asking, why not? But after a few seconds she laughs slightly, relenting. "Yeah. I guess if it was anyone else I'd be a little less eager."

"Why do you dislike her so much, anyway?" I ask. I've been curious since I saw how fast she was ready to denounce Layne just for hanging out with Kayla.

She blows out a huff of air that sends her bangs off her forehead for a second. "Well, we've always been opposites. She'd make fun of me for getting dirty at recess, I'd make fun of her for playing with dolls. You know, stupid kid stuff. Then in seventh-grade gym class I accidentally—and yes, it was an accident—hit her in the face with a dodgeball."