The Pseudo Semicolon

CHAPTER 6: Pages Left Unseen

He curled up on his bed, staring at the diary with a perplexed look on his face. He opened it, closed it, shook it, brought the diary as close to his eyes as possible and then held it far back. He darkened his room and shone a flashlight on the pages and opened his windows to let the sunlight reveal the words. Nothing happened.

"Huh?"

That was his only reaction to the blank pages before him, fluttering against each other. Devland frowned. "I fucking hate you Max." He cursed as he closed the diary and kept it on the bedside table, planting his face into the bouncy mattress until he could hear his heart beating in his ears.

The mystery was killing him; Who was Maximilian Beckett? What was about to come? How did Akira Fukumoto tie into this? Who were the Elites?

All questions he didn't have an answer to.

'Okay let's narrow everything down.' Devland thought to himself one Thursday morning after he finished cleaning up his parents' mess yet again. 'Are the Elites a gang? Was Max in the gang?'

He paused.

'Too far-fetched–but was it really? And who—who is the creature in my mind? An actual ghost or my sleep paralysis demon? But he didn't look like Cassidy or John. Is it possible I'm getting a new demon? But that can't be right–I could move in my dream. This is something different. Should I talk to somebody about this?' Devland inhaled sharply, 'As if she'll ever allow me to see a therapist. She'll try to beat the crazy out of me, so no. Speaking of the new demon, it's been a while since it haunted me, did it finally fuck off?'

Devland looked around; the pavement was still grey, the birds were still chirping, the leaves shook in the warm breeze and most importantly, the pedestrians weren't melting their skin off.

That was a good sign.

Should he research about this? Could he research about this? Devland didn't know. He reined in his attention and refocused on his initial question. He took out his phone and opened Instagram, typing out the name into the search bar but none of the accounts matched. Devland shuffled through all the suggested searches, checking each profile and people until his brain slowly started to shut down.

He first decided to limit the search to his school. Devland searched up Charlie's account and started scrolling through his profile; there were plenty of pictures of him and his football team, along with a post he made about Max. There was also a picture of all six of them.

The picture was taken by Jason, his eyes the only thing visible as the background contained Charlie and Mitchel lifting Roy into the air as Max threw flower petals and Todd was caught mid-whoop. Devland mentally wrote down a note on what the trophy said and immediately closed Instagram, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He looked so happy.

Devland gritted his teeth, not caring to dive deeper into that topic but instead, buried it. He wanted to ask other people—wanted to question them about who the Elites were but what if the person he spoke to was a part of this mysterious gang? So at the moment, the only person he could trust was Akira.

At least that's what Max said.

Devland could come up with a few ways on how to make people tell him whatever he wanted. Did it involve violence? Kind of. Did it involve blackmailing? Oh definitely.

***

Devland already asked five different people, and he was pretty sure one of them was convinced he was a demon from the pits of hell. He decided to finally approach the popular people, but not without leverage.

Rich people will tell you all sorts of things once they realise you have something they don't.

"Hey Jessica." Devland greeted, flashing her an innocent smile.

"Oh, Dev, hi!" She gushed, visibly blushing under his gaze. And there you go.

"Can we talk? Privately please?" Devland suggested, nodding towards an empty classroom. Jessica looked towards her friends, who stared back at her with amused eyes and excited giggles. Finally, both she and Devland got into the room. Finally they were alone.

"Is it okay if I talk about something personal? I hope you don't find it weird–" Devland fiddled with the hem of his shirt, "But it's rather important."

"I–Of course Devland, anything you need." The girl remarked. He let the silence stretch. When the mood hit the right amount of suspense, the right amount of curiosity, Devland moved on with his plan.

"My brother sometimes sends me letters." Devland started, taking up the role of the grieving sibling; his tone slightly wavered, not holding direct eye contact, "They always mention someone... I don't know who exactly."

"What?!" Jessica gasped, clearly enraptured. She quickly connected the dots in her head and her eyes widened even more, "You think that's me?"

"I mean... he did write about a girl so beautiful, so I just wondered if that was you?" Devland explained sheepishly, though he was internally gagging. He had already come up with another plan just in case this one didn't pan out.

"I–oh–Um–" Jessica blushed furiously, "I–what did he say about me?"

"That you were smart." Devland eyed the mud on her shoes and her lithe figure, "You were beautiful when you were on the field."

"He watches me play?!"

"Most of the time–when he has the chance. He also told me that you were part of this group: The Elites."

"I–" Jessica faltered, her mouth opened partway. "I–I wasn't part of the Elites."

She knows.

"What?!" Devland's widened, "Wait–but I thought he described you and–"

"Devland, I'm not part of the Elites." Jessica's voice was hollow but she tried to muster up a smile, "It's actually an inside joke between popular kids."

"What? It's just a group of popular kids?" Devland didn't know why he was so disappointed, his heart sank as his expectations weren't met.

"Yeah." She chuckled, "Not any friend group though, you guys' friend group."

Devland thought his heart stopped. "What?"

"Charlie, Todd, Mitchel, Roy, Jason and your brother were called the 'Elites.' " She drew double quotations in the air for the word Elites, "It was a nickname considering they were the most popular kids in school."

"I–I wasn't aware." Devland sputtered but immediately regained his composure, subduing his panicked thoughts, "I'm sorry Jessica. I'm truly sorry—"

"No, it's fine." Jessica dismissed it with a wave and ducked out of the door before Devland could reply, heading out in a hurry.

Devland was steaming with half-boiled thoughts as betrayal struck his heart. He thought he could trust them—he thought they were his friends. How much did they lie? What was the truth? Devland wanted to scream in confusion.

He thought back to how Todd comforted him during their walk, of their group photo. Do not trust the Elites.

What was Devland supposed to do now?