Demon Accords 05.5: Executable Read Online Free PDF Page A

shark-filled tank might be less scary.
     
    The junior hippies of America crowd ignored her, while the potheads eyed her like she was a narc.  The athletes and cheerleaders smirked and snickered to themselves as she walked through the tables and the nerdy suckup kids all just kept their heads down and made no eye contact. Wisely, she turned away from the fashionista girls before they could mock her clothing choices.
     
    I waved to her.  A frown flickered across her face, but there were no other options, so she headed our way.  My three companions looked from her to me, questions written in their expressions.
     
    “Hey, we’ve got an empty seat,” I said when she got closer.  I introduced the others as she sat down.  She nodded back at them, poker face in place, and then got down to eating.  I noticed that she had way more food than most girls.  Scratch that: way more food than most three girls.  Her tray was loaded.  Two sandwich wraps, a bag of chips, an apple, banana, a brownie, a chocolate cupcake with white frosting, and two cartons of milk.  She ate like it was her job—head down and machine-like.
     
    “Where are you from, Sarah?” Jonah asked after exchanging a raised eyebrow with the rest of us.
     
    She lifted her head, pausing her chewing to answer around a mouth full of what appeared to be chicken salad in a sundried tomato wrap.  “Colorado.  South of Denver.”
     
    She wasn’t even slightly dainty in her manners, more… guylike.
     
    “Parents change jobs or something?” he asked, gamely trying to create a conversation.
     
    “Yeah,” she answered, flicking her eyes from his to mine before dropping them to her tray.
     
    Jonah looked at her for a moment, clearly at a loss, before looking at me and mouthing what the fuck?   I shrugged and opened my lunch bag.  Jonah gave the girl one more glance before turning his attention to my bag.  Rory was already focused on it.
     
    I pulled a recycled cardboard takehome box from the bag, the words Rowan West in raised imprint on the top of it.  Inside was today’s culinary delight.
     
    “What ya got?” Rory asked.
     
    “Looks to be a Black Forest ham, Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, sliced apple, and honey mustard sandwich on oatmeal bread.  A Granny Smith apple, a Stewart’s Orange Crème soda, and some of her homemade chips.  Dammit, no cookies,” I answered.
     
    Sarah had paused in her eating to watch my unveiling.  She looked from my lunch to my eyes, pulling her head back and tilting it to one side.
     
    “One of the many job perks of being a restaurant dishwasher.  My aunt or whatever chef is cooking through the dinner hour packs my lunch.”
     
    “Why can’t they pack my lunch?” Rory complained.
     
    “Because you don’t wash thousands of dishes every week and your allowance is still more than I make,” I replied.  “You could just buy a Rowan West lunch every day.”
     
    His parents were both professors at UVM.  His father was head of the Chemistry department and his mom taught Psychology to undergraduates.  An only child, he was the Tessings’ pride and joy.
     
    “That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed.  “My parents worship the ground your aunt walks on, so they would love the idea I was getting a Vermont-produced, nutritious lunch!”
     
    “Why?” Sarah suddenly asked.
     
    “Why would they want me to eat nutritionally?” Rory asked. 
     
    The brown-haired girl shook her head. “No. Why do they worship his aunt?” she asked, pointing her thumb in my direction.
     
    “Because I got lost in the woods as a little kid and she found me,” Rory said.  I stopped chewing, not liking where this was headed.  As usual, Rory was oblivious.  Candace, however, glanced my way.
     
    “How did she find you?  She a good tracker?” Sarah asked.
     
    “No she…” Rory started, but I interrupted.
     
    “Hey, who’s going to the Homecoming dance?”
     
    There was an awkward moment of quiet as