Slaying Year Two (Grim Reaper Academy 2)

“We’ll be bored out of our minds without you,” Paz said.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to entertain yourselves with after a beer or two.” I turned the page. It was incredible, but since Paz and GC had practically moved in with me, I’d developed this special skill of being able to read and do my own things while they talked my head off.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” GC was at the door. The truth was he couldn’t wait to show off his costume. “Pandora will be so disappointed.”

“Yeah, it’ll break her heart.”

“Last call,” Paz said.

“Go! Go, go, go! Let me read. And when you come back, bring me some beer and some… I don’t know… cupcakes. Or whatever they have there.”

They finally fucked off, and I was alone with Corri. She yawned and made herself comfortable on my pillow. Honestly, I’d grown very fond of her. I enjoyed her company, and even though she refused to say – or even think – that we were friends, I considered her my friend. I had three now. Patricia, Klaus, and Corri. A succubus hybrid, a mage, and an all-powerful pixie. Not too shabby.

I’d been reading for an hour when someone knocked on the door. It couldn’t be GC or Paz, because they never knocked. We’d been together for half a year now, and they still couldn’t grasp the notion of privacy or personal space. I got out of the bed and went to open the door. I would’ve asked Corri, but since she’d entered my life, I kept catching myself being lazier than usual, asking her to do the simplest things for me. I couldn’t have that. It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t right. I could open a stupid door, thank you very much.

Pandora.

Her beautiful red hair was hidden under a wig. Two pigtails, one pink and one blue. She wore exaggerated makeup – red lips, mascara intentionally smudged under her eyes, and a single small, black heart high on her right cheekbone. She was dressed scantily, in a pair or red and blue shorts and black fishnets. She can certainly pull off a mean Harley Quinn.

“You didn’t come,” she frowned. “You said you’d come, and you didn’t.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I changed my mind.”

She looked at me for a long moment, as if she was trying to decide the best course of action to get what she wanted. As far as I was concerned, that would never happen, so there were only two viable options: she either dropped the act she’d been struggling to pull off lately, scream, curse, and return to being the bitch I knew, or turn on her heels and walk away. I certainly didn’t expect what she did next.

Pandora let out a deep sigh, looked me in the eyes, and with the sincerest tone

she could muster…

“Please, Mila, you have to come. Please.”

… she started begging.

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because if you’re not at the party, no one wants to come. A bunch of people came one hour ago, looked around, saw you were not there, and then started leaving one by one.” Were my eyes playing tricks on me, or was she blushing? It must have been the light. “So, will you please come? Kitty and I have put so much into it, and it just sucks.”

I was speechless. I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. I gave up. If I said “no” now, that would make me the bitch. Not that I cared, but this situation intrigued me. It was all new, and I didn’t know how to react. It was strange and rather sad that I knew how to react when I was bullied, and stepped on, and mocked. I knew how to run and hide, how to stand my ground, how to take revenge. I knew how to stay out of people’s way, how to make myself invisible and inconsequential, but this… I didn’t know how to deal with this. Popularity… People wanting to be around me, willing to do anything so I’d at least learn their names, actually caring if I was at a party or not. The world had turned on its head, and if I was prepared for pretty much anything, I sure as hell wasn’t prepared for this.

“Pandora, I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say yes,” she smiled.

I scrunched up my nose. The funny thing was… A few weeks ago, I would have been convinced this was some sort of elaborate prank, and I wouldn’t have hesitated. Run as fast as you can from anyone who is willing to put so much time and effort into making your life hell. That was my motto. It had helped me survive. My gut told me it was not the case now. Pandora didn’t want to hurt me. Or, if she wanted to, she’d buried that desire deep down, because the new status quo meant she had to change her methods if she still wanted to get what she wanted. What did she want, exactly?

“Why would I do this for you?”

“Don’t do it for me. I know you don’t want to. But maybe, you could do it for yourself?”

“I don’t follow.”

She leaned against the doorframe, popping a hip forward and reclaiming some of her old power and confidence. Not that she wasn’t confident, because she was, but since my last name had become Morningstar, I’d noticed she’d started downplaying her qualities when she was around me. It didn’t happen when she was around, literally, anyone else.

“You’re someone new now. Don’t tell me you never dreamed of this, imagined how it must feel to be the total opposite of the person you were last year. Don’t tell me that Mila Lazarov never wondered what it must be like to be me, or Lorna or Sheba. Hot, popular, rich, confident, adored… Hell! Entitled!”

It was stupid to deny I hadn’t had such fantasies. Not that I was going to say it out loud. She was wrong about one thing, though. I’d never wanted to be like her or Lorna. Beautiful on the outside, but absolutely ugly on the inside. Gratuitously mean and ruthless. In fact, since I’d been accepted at Grim Reaper Academy, I’d had this fantasy much less often than when I was at my old high school. It was as if the discovery of the supernatural world had, in fact, cured me of my long-time dream to be special. It showed me what being special really meant, and how it had nothing to do with what I’d imagined. Now that it turned out I really was special, I wanted nothing to do with it.

“What’s your point?”