Eleventh Grade Burns(26)

He made his way down the hall and moved inside Otis’s classroom casually, not letting anyone who might be watching see his growing tension at what awaited him there. It wasn’t paranoia. He knew he was being waited for, and when he glanced at Joss on the way to his desk, he could see that he was right. Joss was smiling that cool, superior smile that he’d added to his armory ever since his return. Vlad felt himself brace, felt himself ready a glare, but stopped and just looked at Joss, at this boy who had been his friend. For a moment, he forgave Joss for staking him, for threatening him, and for flirting openly with Meredith. For a moment, he just looked at Joss and tried to let him know with his eyes just how badly he wanted things to go back to the way they were.

Joss’s smile slipped, and all the anger and resentment melted away for a microsecond, replaced by regret. Then Joss looked away.

Maybe there was hope. Maybe somehow, through all the hatred and threats and betrayal, maybe their friendship could survive. Maybe Joss—the real Joss, the Joss he knew—could be saved from the Slayer Society somehow.

Or maybe Vlad was just stubbornly clinging to a ridiculous, unfounded sense of hope. He wasn’t sure. But one thing he did know: even though he positively loathed Joss the slayer ... he missed Joss the friend.

Vlad took his seat, fighting the urge to turn around, to talk this all out with Joss and make everything okay again. Sure, he was still furious that Joss had tried to take his life a year and a half before. Sure, he still suffered the occasional nightmare, always accompanied by that fateful whisper: “For you, Cecile.” But what it boiled down to was that Joss had been told all sorts of horrible lies about vampires, and maybe, if Vlad tried hard enough, he could get Joss to see the truth. It was possible, wasn’t it? No matter how unlikely, it was possible. People had been saved from cultlike groups before. Couldn’t Joss be saved too? Couldn’t Vlad save him?

He looked up as Otis hurriedly entered the room. After a second, the door closed behind Otis, who paused and closed his eyes for a moment, as if berating himself. Vlad thought back to the last day of school his eighth grade year, when the door had mysteriously closed just when it seemed Otis had wanted it to. He mulled over the two moments, so similar-looking, and wondered if Otis had a skill he’d not yet shared with Vlad. Flipping open his mythology book to where they’d left off yesterday, he decided to ask his uncle after class if the ability to move objects with but a thought were possible. But he didn’t know if Otis would own up to it, even if his theory was correct.

He was mulling this over when he felt a distinct, familiar poke in his back. Sharp. Wood. A stake. Joss had a stake.

Without thinking, without considering any other possibility at all, Vlad stood and whipped around, yanking what Joss held in his hand away and shoving him over, sending his desk tumbling onto its side. It was only then that Vlad realized that Joss had been poking him with a pencil. He dropped it on the floor and glanced at Otis. “Sorry. I ... sorry.”

Otis pursed his lips. “Office. Both of you.”

The word had barely formed in his mind before Joss stood and spoke it aloud. “What?”

Otis barked, “OFFICE!”

Not daring to question, Vlad huffed down the hall, keeping Joss in his peripheral vision the entire time. He hated that he wanted to fix the friendship they’d had, hated that he wanted very much to rescue Joss from the twisted web of the Slayer Society, and completely loathed the idea of trying to reason with Joss when he was acting like a lunatic. He tried to ignore it, but there it was, burning a hole through his chest—what Vlad wanted more than anything, but couldn’t have: for him and Joss to be buds again. What’s more, he wanted to beat some sense into Joss, and that wasn’t a wise idea either. Especially since they’d probably just earned at least one afternoon of detention.

Principal Snelgrove met them in the outer office. “I don’t care what happened. I don’t want excuses. I don’t want blame games. You’ll both have in-school suspension tomorrow. I will not tolerate fighting! Is that understood?”

Vlad nodded. Snelgrove growled at Joss, “I said is that understood, Mr. McMillan?”

Finally, Joss nodded too. “Yes, sir.”

The rest of the day was a blur. Suspension? It didn’t matter if it was in school or not, Nelly was going to kill him. And Otis ... what was he thinking, sending them to the office? He had to know it was Joss’s fault.

One thing was for sure. Vlad was done tiptoeing around something he’d wanted to ask Otis for years now.