Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance - C.M. Stunich Page 0,164

up to adjust masks with papier-mâché moth wings or store-bought monster maws.

Their masks are nothing like the ones at Crescent Prep, where each one is a piece of original art, shrouded in mystery and money and magic. The ones here are … just masks. It’s a bit of a relief, actually, to be surrounded by teenagers instead of a court made up of cruel, dark faeries.

“Crescent Prep, huh?” one of the students says, stepping forward in a maniacal looking demon mask, eyes wild, teeth just a bit too real to be glued to a cardboard face. “Thought you guys were too good for us.” The boy steps back and grabs the chain-link gate, dragging it open and allowing us into the party proper. “But, on Devils’ Day, all are welcome.”

There’s a massive bonfire in the middle of the Devil Springs Junkyard, much bigger than the ones we make in the woods. Theirs, too, is piled with old, broken furniture and stolen tree limbs, fed with gasoline and youthful rage. Instead of a live band, one of the students has put down the top on an old green Mustang, music blaring from its speakers.

“Hollow” by Icon for Hire is playing as revelers feed the bonfire and dance in a circle around it, wielding metal pipes, more animal than human. The darkening sky lights up with flames as orange tongues flick up toward the stars.

“Let’s go,” Barron says, striding forward in his white coat with the curled tails, his ass a slice of perfection in those black leather pants of his. Raz, Calix, and I start after him, entering into a fray of red Solo cups, cheap beer, and raucous laughter.

“The poor man’s Devils’ Day,” Raz says with a laugh and a grin so sharp it looks like his face is being sliced in half by the sharp shadows cast from the bonfire. He snatches a bottle of beer from a big plastic bucket filled with half-melted ice, and pops the top with one of the bottle openers sitting nearby.

Much to my surprise and pleasure, he hands the beer to me before going back for his own.

Calix’s dark eyes watch the interaction carefully, but he doesn’t say anything. Tonight, he’s dressed in a black velvet coat that hangs to the ground. It’s unbuttoned, and he’s shirtless underneath, his black jeans too tight and covered with bloodred glitter. Yet another new outfit. How many he has, I’m not sure, but enough that I’ve never seen him dressed in the same one twice.

Part of me, a very distant part, feels bad about what Sonja did to Erina. Yet … just yesterday, Erina killed April. And Calix. She shot Raz.

She’s clearly dangerous, but I don’t know that bullying or violence are solutions for anything.

One thing I do know: saving Pearl isn’t the magical act of sacrifice the universe is looking for from me. Clearly, I’ve missed the memo on something here.

“Walk with me,” Barron purrs in that sensual baritone of his, each word like a caress of dark satin against my cheek. He turns around and starts walking backward, beckoning me forward, his sketchbook tucked under one arm.

I hurry to catch up with him, Raz and Calix not all that far behind me.

“I can’t stop drawing you today,” he says, studying the masked figures crouching on top of ruined cars or fucking in the backseat of an old minivan, the doors wide open, a boy’s pale ass pumping up and down. I glance away and take a sip of my drink, studying the outfits of the Devil Springs High students. Most of them are wearing something related to the school: a red hoodie with the grinning devil that makes up their mascot, black sweatpants with Don’t Deal with the Devil printed down one leg, or t-shirts with Devil Springs High written above a red splash that looks suspiciously like a blood splatter.

“Based on my insider knowledge,” I start, tapping the side of my head with a single finger. I’m wearing the black ballgown again, the one with the red laces and the corset-like bodice. “It seems you draw me every day.”

“Yes, but today’s different,” he says, handing me back the sketchbook. “It’s like my brain is bursting with images I can’t erase. They plague me unless I draw them.” I flip the book open, turning the pages until I get past the images I already recognize from earlier. Apparently, while I was getting ready to go, Barron added several more.

One of them features Erina, gun