I half-listen to her love-babble until she starts demonstrating Zeke’s best dance moves down the hallway. The girls stare with a sneer, the guys with open mouths. I’m seriously debating what would happen if I accidentally tripped her when I get the bright idea to check my watch.

“Gosh Cissy, I have to run. Can’t be late for History!” Wow, I never thought I’d say that out loud.

For once, I arrive early to History, slipping into my favorite back row seat. All the students mill about, chit-chatting about the weekend. Miss Thing puts on lipstick using a small compact. Amazing how she can use a mirror and still not notice the huge red smear across her front teeth.

Miss Thing claps her hands twice. “Everyone, pay attention.”

I sit straight in my chair, ready to work. I’m feeling mighty proud of my Cissy management strategy when I realize my massive error: class is starting and Zeke’s just now walking through the door. I swing my long hair in front of my face, hoping that will hide my identity (not my best plan.) He heads straight for me anyway.

I almost face-palm myself. What’s the first rule of avoiding someone at school? Arrive late to class so you pick the seat farthest away from them.

Miss Thing paces the front of the room, her red stilettos click-clacking with each step. “Class, turn to 542 of Purgatory Through the Ages.”

I whip out my book as Zeke slides into the empty seat next to mine.

“Morning, Myla.”

Flipping through pages, I pretend not to hear him. Maybe he’ll get the message and pay attention to the lecture.

“I said, good morning, Myla.”

No such luck. I grind my teeth and low out a low ‘grrr.’ I’d expected the love-fest from Cissy, but I truly counted on never speaking to Zeke again. Now, I’m trapped next to him in history class and Mister Smarmy wants to talk. This sucks, big time.

Be nice to him for Cissy, Myla. Don’t ruin it for her.

I let out one last ‘grr’ and whisper “Hey, Zeke.”

Miss Thing stops pacing. Her black eyes carefully scan the room. “Class, we’re about to start a very important lesson. This month marks the twentieth anniversary of Armageddon’s liberation of Purgatory. To celebrate, we’ll learn all about how clever and merciful your new overlords are. Who wants to begin the reading?” No one raises a hand. “Paulette, why don’t you start us off? Page 542.”

Paulette carefully repositions her Hermes scarf on one shoulder, then begins to read: “Armageddon’s War, Episode One, Quasis Mismanage Purgatory. For thousands of years, quasi-demons mismanaged–”

As Paulette keeps reading, Zeke whispers across the aisle. “Myla, I know why you were so angry at the party.”

My throat tightens. Zeke knows Lincoln?