Page 113 of My Roommate from Hell
I really should stop stressing. I go into our bathroom and check my hair. It looks good, falling in an almost ideal way, as it did the last time I came in here to preen.
“What do you think?” I ask the ghouls. There are now dozens of them in the mirror. Zarmenus has assured me they’re harmless, no matter how many of them there are. Still, I’m starting to backtrack on my decision to let them stay. It’s almost as if they can sense this, too, as they’ve been far quieter than normal lately.
They all lift their hands and reach toward me. Even though I know they can’t hurt me, I still shudder as I leave the bathroom.
“Is there anything you want me to be careful of?” I ask. “With your parents, I mean.”
“Nope,” says Zarmenus. “You’ll do great.”
I wish I had his confidence.
“We should go,” he says. “My parents hate when I’m late.”
There we go, that’s one thing I know about them. Even though I’ve lived with Zarmenus for a few months now, I still don’t know allthat much about his parents. He never talks about them. Though he talks to them fairly regularly, holding séances in a room above the school theater that Leeke gave him access to for that very reason.
“Hey,” I say as we go into the elevator. “How do you feel about this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, do you feel weird about lying to your parents?”
He shakes his head. “Not even slightly.”
I go quiet, hoping he’ll elaborate.
“I guess I’m used to it,” he says. “In a way. Ever since I was a kid I’ve known there’s a big difference between who I really am and who they expect me to be.” He shrugs.
“Because of the prophecy?” I ask.
“That, and it’s the nature of the beast, really. I’ve read about royals here and it seems like they go through a lot of the same stuff.”
It reminds me of an autobiography I read last year about a prince who struggled under the control his family placed on him.
“We fought a bunch when I was younger,” continues Zarmenus. “But after a while I figured it’s easier to just be who they want when I’m around them.”
I can’t even imagine that. I know what it’s like to feel pressure from your parents. It’s not that I think they do it intentionally, and I know they’d support me no matter what, but they’ve always had sky-high expectations of me. Dad used to joke that I was going to be a future president one day, and I think a part of him really thought that was possible. That they thought there was no ceiling for me is very nice, but at the same time, as someone who never wants to let anyone down, it applied a lot of pressure.
“Sorry,” he says. “I’m not used to talking about this stuff. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt comfortable sharing any of this with.”
It’s been a few weeks since we kissed, and I still think about it pretty much every second of every day. Whenever a lecture gets boring or after I’ve spent hours working on an essay, I find myself thinking about what would’ve happened if I had taken him up onhis offer to keep casually hooking up. A few times I’ve even thought about telling him that I’ve changed my mind, but I quickly shoot that down.
“We should go,” he says. “Our car’s almost here.”
We go outside and wait on the side of the road.
What pulls up in front of us is a car I have to gawk at. It’s the kind I’ve seen a very few times in my life, normally as they drive past on the highway. Dad would always point them out.
It’s a midnight blue sports car, sleek and beautiful. I didn’t even think I liked cars but this thing is jaw-dropping.
The driver, who I’m happy to find is a seemingly normal human, steps out and opens the door for us. Zarmenus climbs in without a moment of hesitation. I linger for a moment, then climb in. It’s easily the nicest car I’ve ever been in. There’s even a mini-bar in the door, with snacks and drinks.
“You like it?” asks Zarmenus.
“I’m obsessed. What do you think?”
“It’s no fire chariot, but as far as human cars go, it’s up there.”
The driver starts the engine and pulls us away from the sidewalk. This thing drives like a dream. It’s so smooth, but it’s clear the engine has real power.
