Free The Demon's Deadline (Demon's Assistant Book 1) by Tori Centanni Page B

contractees isn’t really important.
    Not for the first time, I look up demons and demonic deals on my laptop, but all I get are hits for fictional television shows, legends about crossroad demons, and a lot of stuff about Faust . Dad calls me for dinner. I close the computer and try to act like I’m not falling apart.
     

     
    For a girl whose life has literally revolved around demons, I am not prepared for the hell that is school on Monday. Against my better judgment, I sent Cam four more texts on Sunday. I know it’s a no-no to keep bombarding him with text messages when he’s not replying, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from hitting “send.” He’s never ignored me for this long and I don’t know how to handle it.
    Ironically, no force on the planet could make me text Mel, even though I should have, if only to assure her I was sitting in my room doing homework and reading comic books, not strung out on whatever drug she thinks I’m using.
    Cam is my usual ride to school, except on Wednesdays when he as a Zero Period tutoring appointment—he’s the tutor—and it doesn’t even occur to me to make other plans until seven o’clock in the morning. Dad is sound asleep and I have no cash to pay a cab, so I end up walking. It’s not a hard walk, but if I wanted to make it before first bell at seven-ten, I needed to leave earlier.
    By the time I get there, check into the tardy office, and get my tardy slip, first period is nearly over. Instead of walking in at the end of the class, I hide in the girl’s bathroom until the bell rings. I’m about to leave the stall when the bathroom door swings open and I hear Amy’s familiar Southern voice saying how great the weekend was. I hesitate.
    “Your sister knows how to throw a party,” someone says. It takes a moment, but I realize it’s Katrina Rogers, my t-shirt twin at Cam’s party.
    “I think that’s all she learned at college,” Amy says. I hear the telltale sounds of lipstick checks and hair mussing.
    “Do you think this shade of peach works for me?” Katrina asks.
    “Definitely, sweetie.”
    I’m about to come out, make nice, and run off to class, when Katrina says, “I hope Cam’s okay.” I freeze. My heart starts to race.
    “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just a little lover’s spat,” Amy says.
    “It didn’t sound little.”
    “No,” Amy agrees, but at least she has the decency to sound sad about it. “But give him a little time. He’s been with her for like… ever. If it’s really over, he’ll need to re-adjust.”
    My heart leaps into my throat. Give him time until what? She jumps him in an alley with concert tickets and bats her eyelashes until he takes her on a date? Katrina and I have never really been friends, and her crush on Cam is no big secret, but the fact that she’s apparently been biding her time, waiting for us to have a fight so she could pounce, makes me feel sick.
    Katrina makes a dismissive noise, a pfft . “You’re so sweet, Amy.”
    They make their way out of the bathroom, and I’m glad I’m near a toilet because I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke.
    It didn ’ t sound little.
    What did Cam tell them? I can’t even think about it, because the possibilities make me feel nauseated. I splash water on my face, goth-liner be damned.
    Third period is Spanish, and when I walk in, Cam’s sitting in his usual seat, next to my usual seat, for which there is a seating chart and no escape. He’s laughing with Donnie, who sits on his other side. I slide into my desk. “Morning,” I say and manage to keep my voice from shaking.
    “Morning,” Cam parrots my greeting, but he doesn’t look at me. He becomes very interested in his Spanish notebook, pretending to check his work. I know he’s pretending, because Cameron Walters does not come to class before double-checking his work.
    It feels weird not to talk to him in Spanish class, as it’s how we met. I decided to take my foreign language starting in