On the third day of classes, I went to Prof. Edward’s class with new found confidence. I had permission from the dean himself that I could defend myself however I saw fit from Damien’s antics. I took the seat in the far back corner without hesitation and waited for him. Dean Crowe had told me that my kneeing him in the groin hadn’t done any lasting damage to him. I knew it was wrong to think this, but I wouldn’t have been too upset if I had done a little lasting damage. Nothing too serious, but if he’d had to walk with a limp for a few days, I wouldn’t have felt a bit guilty. 

Dean Crowe had also informed me that Damien could’ve gone to gym class but had adamantly refused to go. Strangely, he also refused to accuse me of attacking him. He could’ve had me put in shackles just like he’d done to my father, but he wouldn’t tell Capt. Timmons what had happened. Of course they knew what had happened. Prof. Friedman had given them a play-by-play account in real-time, but without Damien’s corroboration, the dean was happy to look the other way as long as I went along with his mad scheme to rehabilitate the Demon. I was only going along with the plan because the dean said I could kick Damien again if I had to. I was sure I would have to.  

While I waited for Damien to arrive, a number of classmates made sure to give me friendly smiles when they caught my eye. A number of the guys shot me thumbs up in approval. Well, I might not have many friends, but it looked like I was developing a fan club.

When Damien did come in, he stopped in the doorway and stared at me. I sat up straighter and placed my clasped hands on top of my desk. Then I gave him a big smile. His face darkened. He stomped across the room to loom over me with a dire glare. I fluttered my eyes up at him. He didn’t appear amused. I was highly amused though. Now that I had permission from Dean Crowe to nettle Damien, I was going to take full advantage of it. 

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully.

“What’s good about it?” he asked.

I looked out the window. “I don’t know—Everything? The sun’s shining. The air is warm. Birds are chirping.” I took a deep happy breath. “I think it’s going to be a wonderful day.”

He huffed and slumped down into his seat. “You’re being weird,” he muttered.

“Nope, I’m being happy. You’ve never seen me this way before,” I said with a touch of edge to my voice.

“Well, stop it. It’s annoying.”

“Nope.” I opened my notebook to the end of my notes as Prof. Edward came into the room. 

“Good morning, class. Let’s discuss the Magna Carta this morning,” Prof. Edward announced, going to his lectern.

I could feel Damien’s eyes on me, but I didn’t give him the reward of my attention. I looked over my notes and edited them a little. As Prof. Edward launched into his lecture, Damien reached over with a finger extended, but he stopped short of poking me in the cheek. 

I turned in annoyance to him. “What?” I asked sotto voce.

“What’s up with you?” he replied.

“Nothing. Now pay attention.”

He cast an unimpressed glance toward Prof. Edward. “Why? I just woke up. I don’t want to go back to sleep.”

I frowned and turned back to taking notes.

Instead of pulling out his cell phone to ignore class, he propped his head on his hand and stared at me as I took notes. I ignored him, warm in the knowledge that if he touched me in any way that I didn’t like, I could retaliate with extreme prejudice, so long as I didn’t maim him. Dean Crowe had made me promise that much. 

Damien didn’t reach for me though. When it was time to go to our next class, he waited at a respectful distance and walked a foot away from me down the hall. Having personal space around Damien was nice, but it put me on edge because I was sure this would somehow go bad in some way. 

At the entrance to Prof. Engler’s classroom, he actually bowed me through the door. I passed by him tensely, but nothing happened. I was sure he was going to goose me or something. I’d been ready to brain him, but he didn’t do anything. I went to our desks and set down my bag. I turned to sit down and jumped when Damien was right there with his hands on my chair.

“I was going to tuck it in for you,” he said, blinking at me innocently. I didn’t believe him for a millisecond. He lifted his hands off the chair and backed away.

“I can scoot it in myself. Thanks,” I said warily.

He took his seat and slumped down again. Prof. Engler came in with a cheerful hello for the class. We once again repeated lines of The Canterbury Tales in Middle English. I thought I even saw Damien’s mouth moving to form the unfamiliar pronunciations of some of the words. While I had permission to punish Damien when he misbehaved, I was also supposed to reward him when he did well. Dean Crowe made me promise to do that as well. I hadn’t expected to have to instigate this part of the reconditioning so early. I was sure that I’d have to thump him a few times first. And as petty as it sounded, I’d been looking forward to it. 

I hadn’t figured out a good reward system. Dean Crowe had said attention was enough for someone like Damien. He might have been right, but I wasn’t sure how to give it. As we walked to Spanish class, I sneaked a look at him. He was walking beside me with his hands in his pockets. Conversation was a type of attention, right? 

“So, what’s your favorite subject?” I asked.

He glanced at me in suspicion. “Why?”

I shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“What’s yours?” he countered.

“Art, but I couldn’t take it this year.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have to take gym. Next year I can take it, since I don’t have to take a math.”

“If you skip math next year, you’ll have to take a math your senior year.” The holy grail of senior year was to have to only take English, four blow-off courses, and a study hall. Most core subjects only required us to take three years. If we could complete those in the first three, senior year would be a breeze. English was the only course required all four years. And while only two years were required of gym and health class, they had to be taken during our first two years. When I’d planned out my courses for the next four years, I’d realized it would be easiest to do without Art for one year. It was a tough decision, but it was the only way I could figure out the complicated shell game required to get a study hall during my senior year.   

“I know, but it’ll be worth it.”

“You didn’t have to take Spanish this year. You could’ve blown it off until next year.” I blinked in surprise that he was considering my schedule so deeply.

“Yeah, but every way I worked the schedule, I’ll have to do one year without art. I decided to get it out of the way early.”

“Whatever,” he said.

“You still haven’t said what your favorite subject is.”

“No, I haven’t.” He turned and let me go first into the classroom.  

I didn’t step through. I paused and waited for him to answer. He just stared at me. People began to pile up behind me forcing me relent and go in. So much for this reward. It didn’t seem like he was happier or pleased by my attention. Maybe Dean Crowe didn’t know what he was talking about even if he did have a doctorate in psychology and another in education.

We took our usual seats in the back. Damien immediately pulled out his phone and began playing a game. I let him be. If the professors couldn’t bring themselves to call him on his inattentiveness, then I wasn’t going to challenge it. I considered my job well done if I kept him from setting fire to his desk.

Profesora Nuñez came in and greeted the class in Spanish. Everyone but Damien replied in kind. We practiced conjugating simple verbs and forming sentences with them. I was writing down all the various forms for the verb escribir, which meant to write. 

“You got the vosotros form wrong,” Damien said in a bored tone.

I turned to him in surprise. I checked my textbook. He was right. I had confused the vosotros conjugations for verbs that ended with -er and -ir. I erased my answer and corrected it. I turned the corrected sheet to show him. He grunted in disinterest and continued to play his game.

I supposed that was good behavior, too. Why was he playing nice? I’d been ready to go toe-to-toe with him again, but so far, he’d been polite. He was completely ruining my day. The boy was diabolical.