How to Save Your School From Soul Stealing Demons

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12TH
6:37 PM
VANTERBEST HIGH BAND ROOM

The band room is dark, large and empty, filled only by the chairs stacked high against the wall, the music stands arranged neatly on a rack nearby, and a few instrument cases strewn on the floor in front of the lockers.

Watts leads us right for the tallest, widest locker, one that could probably fit two large basses inside. When he opens the door, I find out that yeah, it can fit two basses inside—there are two sturdy black cases in there right now, taking up most of the room.

He curses, then moves next door to the smaller cello locker. Empty.

"I'll be in here," Ambrose says, stepping up into the locker next to the basses. None of us have to ask why he's separating from the group—he's so broad and tall that he just barely fits inside. If he tried to squeeze with us into the cello locker, there's no way we'd all fit. He closes the door behind him, then swears. "We'll have to keep them cracked. There aren't any gaps to look through."

"Of course not," I mumble. "That would be too easy."

Watts bends and steps into the cello locker, moving as far back as possible.

Renny goes next. "You know, I never ended up in these perverted, voyeuristic scenarios before the two of you."

I go inside last, closing the door so there's a small gap for us to look out of. Or for something else to look in, I think with a shiver.

"Trust me, I'd much rather be out on the bleachers watching Hemani celebrate a touchdown," I reply, watching the door. They should be here any minute now.

Ambrose's gloating voice comes from the other side of the wall. "You guys comfortable?"

Renny sighs, and I fight to smother a smile.

"I'm comfortable," Watts answers, sounding far too happy for someone who's smushed in a tomb for cellos. When I think about who's behind me and how she's positioned in front of him, I don't have to make many guesses as to why.

"If you keep breathing down my neck like that, you're about to get uncomfortable pretty fast," Renny threatens, but her voice carries a smile.

Just as I realize I'm starting to let myself get carried away by how good it feels to be in a group again, to have friends again, I see the doorknob turn. And all those good feelings are replaced by a heavy dread as I shoosh everyone, waving my hand as much as I can in the small space to get Renny and Watts' attention. "The door!"

Hoffman enters the room first, still carrying his tuba. He reaches for the lightswitch, but Bernadette grabs his arm, shaking her head.

"If someone sees the light, we might get caught," she reasons.

He nods, face falling into a smile. "Oh, right. Right."

She closes the door behind them and leans against it, as if waiting for him to say something. My heart pounds in my ears as I strain to hear their voices, fighting to keep my body rigid and silent. If we get caught, in the best case scenario we'd have a lot of explaining to do and a lot of excuses to make up. In the worst case... we'll never utter another excuse ever again. Because, well, you know. We'll be dead.

"So, uh, where should I do it?" Hoffman asks. He turns towards the stacks of chairs. "I guess I'll stand—"

His sentence is cut off when she reaches out to grab his face, turning it back to her. And in one swift motion, she's leaning in and planting her lips on his.

Then, Bernadette just barely pulls away, lowers her head to Darren's collar, and kisses his neck once. And in a blur of movement, she's switched their positions, pinning him against the door with far too much ease for someone who's at least a hundred pounds lighter than him.