Page 5 of The Devils They Are

Perkins takes a few steps back, stumbling into his friends as his eyes scan the Cedar crowd with unease. "Whatever," he spits out vehemently, before turning and disappearing through the entrance doors.

I start to turn toward Archie, tugging down my new–well, secondhand that I sourced off Facebook Marketplace–Willowbrook black and white tartan skirt, when the sound of slow clapping reaches my ears. Snapping my neck toward the obnoxious sound, I find none other than RylanfuckingAstor standing at the top of the steps in front of the entrance, a smirk on his face.

"Quite a performance, Spencer. Shame it ended prematurely."

My eyes narrow glaringly. "Are you volunteering to switch places, Rylan? I'd be happy to give you an up-close and personal view of my nails if you want to continue where Perkins left off."

Rylan casually moves down two steps without breaking eye contact. "Thoughtful—but I prefer them running down my back."

I resist the urge to scoff and gag at his suggestion. You couldn't pay me to sleep with the monster. Even if I was dead, my corpse would still roll around with repulsion to get away.

"Unfortunately, you already turned me off by sayingended prematurely. But don't worry, Freudian slips happen, even to the best of us."

I start making my way toward the stairs, feeling the others follow close behind. Rylan steps to his right, blocking my incoming path. Without missing a beat, I follow suit, barging him with my shoulder as I skate past toward the doors. He laughs loudly, amused, and when I glance over my shoulder to make sure he doesn't touch any of my people, he’s still watching me.

Surprisingly, he seems to have an ounce of self-preservation, moving to the side as the others walk past. They all glare at him heatedly, and Millie—my little five-foot nothing firecracker freshman—mimics my actions and jabs his shoulder with her backpack.

Her blonde hair is tied in a ponytail, and she swishes it deliberately as she walks, whacking him in the face with the ends.

When we lock eyes, she grins back at me, electric blue irises dancing wildly with a silent plea to let her loose.

It's always the fun-sized ones you need to watch out for. On many occasions, it's crossed my mind that in a few years, she'll probably be in my position. I'm not sure who will take over next year when I'm gone, but whoever it is, they better watch out for her once she's a senior if they are still around. Or worse, considering other replacement options.

Rylan holds up his hands in a seemingly act of retreat, but I know better than to believe it’s coming from a genuine place. This is his way of warning me too.

There's no doubt in my mind that he was here deliberately, waiting to greet me—to remind me that I’m on his turf now.

But like the warehouse, it doesn't matter where we are. I won't bow down to anyone. These people behind me, they rely on me, and I have their back just as much as they have mine.

We're a family—a band of misfits from similar walks of life. Unlike the richer snobs of Willowbrook, we're known as theother option. If you can't afford Willowbrook or meet their selection criteria, then the only other option you have in Ridgeview Valley is to attend Cedar Heights–and we don’t turn anyone away.

That's what makes us a threat though. We lean into our pasts, not run away from it. Rejection and heartache make us stronger, and we don't bat an eyelash at the prospect of new enemies. We survive—that's what we do.

Which is why when Mayor Astor told our principal that we would need to merge for a few months, we didn't rile up or shy away from the challenge. And yes, these obnoxious pricks like to rub it in every chance they get that they are privately funded while we rely on the State.

But it doesn’t matter though. You can take the kid out of Cedar Heights, but you can't take the Cedar Heights out of the kid.

Bring it on, Rylan Astor. I hope they bring their A-game. I would never want to just dethrone them without a fight. I want to earn it, so that when I do, everyone will know that I deserve it.

It's a long morning.

The administration staff scramble to confirm everyone’s details and pass out schedules and maps. But eventually, we all head in our separate directions with some slight understanding of what's to come and where to go.

Unfortunately, there's not enough lockers for all of us, so the staff tried to suggest that we leave our belongings in the auditorium for now. Fat chance of that. Textbooks are expensive andwe had no choice but to bring whatever they could recover from our lockers back at school.

Thankfully, the fire didn't cause too much damage to the halls where the lockers are, but many classrooms, the administration building, and our sports facilities were painted in charcoal ash or obliterated completely.

Even our beloved library, full of worn old books and computers that run slower than windows 97, is gone.

Archie and I compare schedules and I'm happy to see that we have a few classes together during the week—but none today. First period, I have history while he has biology. Following that, I have a free period where I plan to use that time to explore the grounds to figure out what the hell I'm doing.

I never intended to step foot inside this academy, so the idea never popped into my mind that I should learn the blueprints.

At least for the most part, the Willowbrook students have kept their distance. I told my guys to let me know if anyone gives them shit, but so far, it's been relatively smooth sailing. But I'm not being complacent. It's still early days and I know that somewhere around here, Rylan is stalking around with Hunter and Tai. It's only a matter of time before they show their faces again, and it's best we keep our heads down and stay out of trouble.

Staring at the map, I follow the wide hallways, turning left, then right, before confirming I've gone past the nurse's station as needed. Then, I find myself face to face with room 228 for history.

I push the door open, letting my hand drop down with the paper as I glance up. All eyes fall on me, the teacher pausing his spiel as his lips purse with disapproval at my tardiness.

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