Page 2 of My Roommate from Hell
REPENT OR BURN
NO SATAN IN SCHOOLS!
I nearly roll my eyes. Point’s most famous exchange student might be a demon, but he’s not Satan. There’s a difference. If you’re going to protest, at least get your facts right.
What this doesn’t explain is why there’s a protest in front of Clark. Then it clicks. Is he staying at Clark? I had considered it a possibility, but the odds of it happening were too slim to really stress about.
And now this.
The prince of Hell is staying in my dorm building.
“That’s a plot twist,” says Mom. “Ugh, this is going to make parking a nightmare.”
I lean closer, looking out the window at the protest with a mix of surprise and resigned acceptance. Because of freaking course this is happening; it’s almost too comedically perfect to not happen to me. I’m not the type of guy who should be sharing a dorm building with a demon. So many people come to college seeking new experiences. Not me. I’m here to eventually get a high-paying job, that’s it.
I roll my eyes.
I’ve known for a while now that the prince of Hell would be studying at Point. Sometimes it seems like the first-ever interdimensional exchange program is the only thing anyone talks about. Turn on the TV and there’s a good chance there will be some story about the upcoming exchange. It’s probably because it’s the biggest news since the initial discovery, when a team of the world’s best scientists discovered undeniable proof of a dimension close to ours that has all the trappings of Hell: demons, brimstone, rivers of lava.Those scientists gave it an official scientific name, Tartarus-β, but it’s rarely used.
Four months later, a different team discovered a “dimensional weak spot” deep in a national park near Sedona, Arizona. There, they built a lab that houses a portal capable of slicing the dimensional membrane between worlds, making travel between the two dimensions possible.
Anyway, one Point student, a girl named Ellie Smith, is going to spend a semester in Hell. Taking her place at Point is Zarmenus Bloodletter, the Unspeakably Foul, Lord of the Screaming Sea, and Herald of the Crimson Moon. From what I’ve read online, he’s kind of a jerk, but he is a prince, demon or no. He’s been told he’s better than everyone since birth, and that changes people. And demons, I guess.
“Are you okay?” asks Mom.
“Yeah, just processing.”
I look out at the protest. Things like this always pop up whenever anyone talks about anything related to Hell. For most people, life has mostly gone back to normal after the news broke. It’s hard to worry too much about alternate dimensions when you’ve got bills to pay, after all. For some, though, it’s become this sort of fixation. They see it as a sign the end times have arrived: not with pillars of fire and blood rain, but through science and man-made portals. They are so loud and ever present at everything to do with Hell that I nearly wanted to change schools when I first found out about Point being the host school. In fact, if it weren’t for my pact with Ashley, I might’ve.
“I’m sure it’ll die down,” I say.
“Are you really?”
No. Not even slightly. There are a lot of people out there who are terrified of Hell. There’s now even a new group of people called the Order of the Golden Sun, who train their followers to be demon killers. What if they target Clark Hall?
And that’s not even mentioning the prince himself. I know that the citizens of Hell, who accepted the human word “demon,”have been trying to convince humanity that they aren’t the malevolent corruptors, fallen angels, or soul stealers like our folktales or religious texts have described. And that might be the case, but I don’t want to spend my time at college finding out. I want to learn about software engineering so I can get a job at Google or Facebook or any other big tech company and never have to worry about money. A literal demon doesn’t fit into that picture in any way, shape, or form.
“Yup,” I say. “Totally sure.”
I grab my backpack, which I know has all the forms I need to check in, then I get out of the car. Because we had to fly here, I had to fit everything I want into only two suitcases, a feat only possible because of Dad’s superhuman packing abilities: he’s truly a pro at vacuum sealing.
Mom takes the other suitcase, and we approach the protest. At first I think they’re blocking the entirety of the entrance, then I see there’s a small gap to one side shielded by police officers and campus security. Mom and I approach one of the officers. My palm feels sweaty against the plastic handle, and my heart is hammering against my rib cage.
“Checking in?” asks the officer, a man with a thick mustache. “Keep your head down, and move fast. Let’s go.”
He doesn’t give us much time to process as he sets off. Mom and I follow him. I note the officer’s advice, keeping my stare down until we reach the doors, which he holds open for us. The people in the crowd shout and wave their signs at us.
“Thanks,” I say to the officer.
He only replies with a curt nod.
Inside, it’s almost as if the protest isn’t happening. I can still hear them, and there are three police officers by the door when I’m sure there normally wouldn’t be, but it’s quieter in here. I look around, and to be honest I feel like I’ve been somewhat catfished. All the pictures of Clark Hall online show a gleaming building filled with impossibly attractive college students having the time of their lives.
In reality Clark Hall is, in a word, old. The walls are this yellowish cream color, and the brown carpet smells mustier than one would like. Still, I instantly love it, faults and all. It might be an old, slightly worn-down dorm building, but it’smyold, slightly worn-down dorm building.
I approach the reception area and hand over my forms to the guy working the desk. It seems move-in day is being run by reception staff and student volunteers in navy polos. This receptionist is a ridiculously attractive blond guy with a neat, short haircut. God, college boys are cute. I’m so screwed.
“Welcome to Clark,” he says as he taps his fingers on the desk. “I’ll just need your forms and your ID.”
