Chapter 16: When I Say Who’s the Master

VRR. VRR. VRR.

My cell vibrated under my hand and snapped me out of the vivid and horrifying massacre daydream that my mind kept trying to convince me would happen.

Since I had been sitting in class for fifteen minutes waiting for my turn to present, I had conjured at least twenty different “Everyone is Dead” scenarios in my mind. The worry was giving me a headache.

I looked at my cell, and it was a response from Weird Nikki to my sixth check-in—at least—on Hellie. Her text read, Stop worrying. She’s still sleeping.

That meant I could wait another five to six minutes until the next check-in.

When I arrived, I tried desperately to get Mr. Vaughn to let me present first, but I believe my ploy had the opposite effect.

Mr. Vaughn was a strict professor, even more so with me due to my familial ties with the institution. As a result, our history was rocky this semester. Early on, he tried to drop me from his class because I had missed most of the lectures and hadn’t turned in all the class assignments on time.

Mr. Shulenmeyers talked him into putting me on probation, so if I didn’t participate in class or turn in my assignments on time, I would be given a failing grade.

Really, I thought Mr. Shulenmeyers’s intervention was unnecessary; Mr. Vaughn just needed to lighten up. Attendance wasn’t a factor with most of the other professors. They were more focused on the quality of work. Honestly, I didn’t think Mr. Vaughn liked me at all.

So, if my theory held correctly, he would likely call me dead last.

In retrospect, I was glad I hadn’t gone first because I had no idea which topic I would present for my social experiment. I had a few ideas scribbled in my notes—more like keywords than actual fleshed-out thoughts.

I’d thoroughly planned on using all of yesterday—after classes, and before and after the game—to whip up something.

But the stuff with The Nameless One, Jana, and then summoning a hellhound ate into my time.

Ugh. I should be home.

I followed the thought with a text to Weird Nikki for an update.

Hearing bits and pieces of my classmates’ experiment topics bored me out of my mind. To hell with all this panic and anxiety that I felt over a minute-and-a-half presentation.

I hated sociology. It was the main reason I was having trouble in class.

Why my great-grandfather designed this art institute emphasizing culture, psychology, and sociology was beyond me. Well, my mother told me, but I never bought into it. Something like, “Creatives are the sculptors of society, so he wanted his students to have all the tools they needed to rise to their purpose.”

Mr. Vaughn’s class was my second year in the study, and all I had learned so far was a bunch of mumbo jumbo. When would people get it? We were making up this shit as we went, and the supposed founders of the discipline were focused on stuffing our beliefs and behaviors into a neatly wrapped box.

VRR, the vibration of my cell jolted me out of my mental discourse. This time, instead of the reply, She’s sleeping, I got the smiling emoji with sweat on its brow.

Oh my god. What?

Amid typing a panicked response, several images flashed into the messenger. First, I received photos of Hellie in ’80s-or early ’90s-looking clothes, then one of Jammer doing Hellie’s hair, followed by a text stating, Hellie is awake. She’s fine. I got her fully dressed, and Jammer is doing her hair. Are you close to finishing?

I promptly texted back. I am almost positive I am going last.

Kk. Hellie seems down to get her nails done. Chat soon.

A colossal wave of relief coursed through me. I knew Hellie would be sweet.

Riding that wave of calm, I used the time I had left to carve out a passable idea. But precisely five minutes later, I received another text from Weird Nikki.

All’s good, but Hellie could use a call. To hear your voice and know you’re well.

Without hesitancy, I pulled my hoodie over my head and set my cell on the table, turning the sound low. Then I placed my crossed arms on the table’s edge and bent my face down, covering the cell in my hoodie. In the darkness, I wiggled my pinky finger onto the screen and dialed out.

She answered before I heard a ring. There was a brief moment of silence, then Weird Nikki spoke in a patient and slow tone.

“Hellie. It’s Billy.”

Whispering into the speaker, I said, “Hey, Hellie. I’ll be home soon, girl.”

“Can you hear Billy, Hellie? Speak up.”

“I can’t at the moment.”

“Never mind. She hears you; she looks happy too.”

“I’m okay. Don’t worry. I’m almost done.”

“She’s perfect now. Thanks, but hurry and get home. She’s missing you.”

Before I ended the call, I heard Jammer in the background. “She’s adorable, Billy. Wait till you see her.”

I peered up slowly, satisfied that no one had noticed my sneaky call.

I continued fleshing out my idea on the notepad, patiently waiting as my turn drew closer.

Fifteen minutes passed.

As predicted, I was on track to be the last presenter. So without a doubt, I could say Mr. Vaughn’s a hater.

A lump formed in my throat as I realized I was up next. But my eleventh-hour idea was solid.

Scratching down a few final thoughts, I heard several keywords—functioning dysfunctional families. It snapped my attention to the last student before my turn, presenting to the class.

Suddenly, my eleventh-hour idea no longer seemed solid because my classmate was spewing details in the vein of what I had just prepped.

I owned the functioning dysfunctional family topic. I lived it my whole life until my mother died, and I exiled myself from that grief.

Dammit. I couldn’t go with that idea now. VRR! VRR!

What now?

I looked down at the text. This time it wasn’t from Weird Nikki. It was from Myles.

A stream of text bubbles popped up one after another.

You should come home now.

Weird Nikki told me not to text you…

But you are a hundred percent needed here.

It’s been off the chain for at least twenty mins.

I swore I heard a bell toll, and images of Hellie biting off my friends’ limbs raced to my forethoughts. And of course, at the height of my panic, Mr. Vaughn called, “Mr. Bramwell-Gates. Mr. Bramwell-Gates.”

I glanced away from the troubling texts and looked to the front of the class. Mr. Vaughn, ever annoyed, signaled to me to come down and deliver my presentation.

The text message had pulsed with three dots for several seconds.

I stood up and slid the phone into my pocket, convincing myself that if there were really an emergency, Weird Nikki would have told me. My trust in her soothed me enough to get up and grab my backpack. Since I had no intentions of setting it down, I double-strapped it.

Lightheaded, I slowly moved toward the podium. I was not able to focus on Myles’ texts or the words for my presentation. It all clashed in a chaotic, tragic, and comedic muddle, so much so that I think I was softly laughing at myself as I descended the stairs. By the time I reached my destination, my body was numb and my mind empty.

Standing under the fluorescent lights felt like being under hot theater lamps, and even though I wasn’t, I sweated all the same. My pocket was burning as well; what if Myles’s final text said, Hellie bit off Jammer’s arm? I wanted to check, but I couldn’t.

I tried to calm myself, adjusting my hoodie and rubbing my palm against my head.

I looked at the sullen class, staring as they had throughout every presentation. Then I twisted to see Mr. Vaughn behind me. He had a masked look of glee, as if he knew I had nothing to present. Turning back to face everyone, I spied the classroom door, a possible escape route.

“Carry on, Mr. Bramwell-Gates. Your time starts now.”

At that moment, I had three options: run out of there, check my phone and reply in front of everyone, or start my bullshit presentation.

“Okay. The thing is…”

Bam. A loud noise rocked the classroom door. We all turned and focused on the doorknob as it twisted several times before the door flung open.

Oh my god. The police found the dead bodies in the wood. They’re here for me!

To my surprise, Hellie came happily blasting through, fashionably dressed in an off-the-shoulder top with a mesh layer peeking underneath, a miniskirt, black knee-high boots, and her wrists adorned with lots of bracelets. She was holding onto something—a leash, maybe? She continued toward me, full steam, showing no signs of stopping. Then she launched right at me, ending with us on the floor and her on top of me, licking my face. She dropped the leash on my chest in all the commotion.

As I laughed off Hellie’s affection and instinctively rubbed her hair, I peered out in the hallway and saw Weird Nikki and Jammer absolutely winded and gesturing apologies.

When I sat up and nudged Hellie off me, the leash rolled into my lap. Seeing it, I was taken aback. It was Nightshade’s leather-handle, lightweight stainless-steel chain. Not only that, I also noticed that Hellie had on the matching leather flame-patterned collar around her neck.

Were they snooping through my things? They had to be!

Then the murmuring got my attention. I knew Hellie was just excited to see me, but I understood how the scene looked strange to everyone else in the room.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Vaughn stood up and peered over his desk. And he wasn’t the only one standing.

I got off the floor and helped Hellie to her feet. Then I took the leash from her hand and gave her a command so she wouldn’t run off.

“Be still, girl.”

Hellie plopped to her butt and remained still, as I had told her too. She looked out at the students, then up to me, then back to the students.

The gasps in the room were audible. If I didn’t do something quickly, this could be my second classroom fiasco resulting in a trip to the dean or worse.

Then I clutched it.

“Please calm down and take your seats. Sorry, Mr. Vaughn, everyone. You all know I’m a magician, so I had to do something with flair to get your attention. And from the reactions, I believe I have it. I wasn’t expecting her entrance to be so dramatic, but she is truly one of a kind, which is why she is the focus of my social experiment.”

My apologetic opener cooled the tension, and those standing took a seat.

“For the project’s duration, I’ll focus on exploring and demystifying both the topics of identity and taboo, using the incredible campus of Bramwell-Gates Art Institute as a testing ground to study people’s reactions and behavior to our unique situation.”

All the students seemed to come alive with curiosity, but they weren’t just intrigued by Hellie’s behavior. From the expressions on their faces, they were mesmerized by her beauty as well. Weird Nikki and Jammer had taken the wild child I’d summoned and turned her into an ’80s-esque pop fashion icon. Her naturally big hair perfectly rounded out the look.

I tugged at the leash, which prompted her to stand. I then dusted her off her backside and walked us out past the podium, stopping at the central point of the floor.

“Everyone, meet Hellie. She has a not-so-common perspective on life, more so on her own. She has chosen to identify as a dog.”

I whipped the leash out, clicked the latch with my thumb, then attached it to the ring on her collar and announced, “And she has chosen me as her master.”

My declaration immediately stimulated my classmates’ audible and visible responses, ranging from disgust to…sexual arousal.