The Book of Bart Read online

  Clayton shrieked and fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. Turned out a person could get a bloody nose from a little old birdie. Wonders truly never ceased.

  Kyle high-fived me. “That rocked.”

  “All in a day’s work. So, what do you want them to do? Set you up with a cheerleader who’ll take your virginity on the first date? Quit the football team? Make out with each other? Personally, I’d go with losing your virginity.”

  Kyle wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m actually okay in the girl department.”

  Liar.

  “I guess if they and their goon friends would leave me alone, that would be good.”

  To each his own. I clapped my hands together. “Consider it done.”

  I dragged Darrel and Clayton out of the gym.

  “No deal,” Darrel said as I let him go. “To Hell with this.”

  I laughed. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Now, here’s what you’re going to do. First, you and your caveman friends are going to leave Kyle alone. Got it?”

  They both stood there, silent.

  I leaned against the gym wall. “You just saw what I could do to a badminton racket. Do you want to see what I can do to human heads?”

  They glanced at each other, then at the ground.

  “No,” the pair said in unison.

  I nodded. “Good. Second thing. That kid Casey. Apparently he was dating someone he called Vixen. Ring any bells?”

  Darrel rubbed his eyes. “He didn’t really say much. He said they got into some kinky stuff, but other than that he wouldn’t talk about her. Like you said. He just called her Vixen.”

  Well, shit. I looked at Clayton. “What about you, nose job?”

  “Same. He said the sex was amazing, like out of this universe amazing,” Clayton said. “That’s all I remember.”

  I rolled my head back and stared at the humming fluorescent light above me. Could this be any more frustrating? I wanted to slam my head through the wall.

  “Is there anyone I can talk to who might know who this Vixen is?”

  “Why do you want to know so bad?” Darrel asked.

  “That’s for me to know,” I said. “Who can I talk to?”

  “Monica can probably help you,” Clayton said. “She’s head cheerleader. I’ll make sure she talks to you at lunch.”

  “How will she know who I am?”

  Darrel opened the door to go back into the gym. “We’ll tell her to look for the fruit in the suit.”

  sat alone in the cafeteria, staring at a square slice of pizza on the plate in front of me. I debated whether or not to try and eat the food. Not that the pork chops looked any more tempting. Private schools should’ve had better food than this.

  Sam and Josh took the seats across from me.

  “You two shouldn’t sit with me,” I said. “Not today.”

  Josh scoffed. “Are we not cool enough to sit with you?”

  “He’s eating with me,” a girl with short, jet-black hair said behind them. Had to be Monica.

  Josh immediately tensed up. He rose from his seat and looked at the girl. She leaned to one side and stared past him like he was nothing.

  “And who are you?” Josh asked. Something about this girl obviously made him uncomfortable.

  Good.

  “Nobody you need to worry about.” She eyeballed Sam.

  Sam extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Samantha.”

  “Whatever,” Monica said, not looking at her. “I’m looking for the fruit in the suit. You’re much too handsome to be a fruit.”

  I straightened my tie. “I like to think I’m the right amount of handsome.”

  “You two, beat it.” Monica thumbed toward the door.

  Josh’s face turned red.

  Sam stood and laid her hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Josh. Come on.”

  Monica slid into a seat. “So. I understand you want to know who Casey Testerman was hookin’ up with.”

  “Pretty much.” I slid my tray to the side. With half of the cheese on it almost burned, that square piece of pizza didn’t deserve to be inside my belly. “I heard you could help me with that.”

  Monica leaned over the table, showing off her cleavage. “Why do you care? Did you even know him?”

  “I did know him, as a matter of fact. The thing is, the family is pretty sure Casey had some sort of STD, like herpes or vaginal discharge. Whoever he slept with has a right to know.”

  Monica smiled. “Vaginal discharge? You know, you never could lie to me convincingly, Bartholomew.”

  I scrunched up my face. “Do I know you?”

  Monica stretched. “My hair’s a little shorter, but yeah. Spanish Inquisition?”

  I snapped my fingers. “Yes. I remember. The way you had Queen Isabella wrapped around your finger… brilliant.”

  On my best day, I never pulled something that epic off. Then again, I never got the chance to, either.

  She gave me a sultry grin. “That’s not the only thing I had her wrapped around.”

  That was hot. I would have loved to see those two get it on.

  “But I heard some distressing things about you. I hope they’re true,” she said with a wink. “It would make you so much more interesting. Especially making out with Jen Partridge after school. Very ballsy.”

  Ah, the cheerleader. “I never got her name.”

  “How did you even get out of Hell?”

  “I’m out on some sort of work release program. The whole thing is stupid, but when the man comes around, what can you do?”

  “Who were the losers sitting with you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “My entourage, for lack of a better word.” Or at least a word I felt comfortable using in front of her. “So. Can you help me?”

  Monica gently licked her lips. “I may be able to. What’s in it for me?”

  My gaze darted around the table while I thought of something to say. Nothing really good came to mind. “Saving the world?”

  Monica burst out laughing. Kids at other tables stopped to look at her. After a minute, she got her giggle fit under control with a snort. “What do I care about that? What’s more, why do you? You’re the one who tried to take it over because your feelings got hurt.”

  I rested my elbows on the table, ignoring her jab. “Then for old times’ sake. Whatever. It’s that or the Ninth Circle for me.”

  Monica’s face went white. “You’re in that deep?”

  My upper lip curled as I nodded.

  “You really are in a bad spot.” Monica fished in her purse and pulled out some lipstick. She moved it across her lips. “Okay. Here’s what I need. I’m trying to make sure that bitch Jenny McPherson doesn’t win Homecoming Queen. I want to win.”

  “I met her this morning.” I rubbed my chin. “Is she a lock to win? She doesn’t strike me as the Homecoming Queen type. She seems more plain Jane to me.”

  Monica put the lipstick back in her purse. “You’d think so, but this slutbag has some serious tricks up her sleeve. Don’t take her wholesome appearance at face value.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  She looked at me with hard eyes. “Break her heart and make sure she doesn’t win Homecoming. Even you should be able to handle that.”

  “Absolutely not,” Sam said in the parking lot after school. I’d just told her about Monica’s proposition. She took it about like I’d expected. A few students shot a surprised glance at her outburst. “I won’t allow you to destroy a young woman. Or take her virtue. Or anything else… not good.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “Come on. I’ve done it thousands of times before. I just love ‘em and leave ‘em. What’s the big deal?”

  “I’m with Sam on this one,” Josh said.

  “You shut up,” I said. “This doesn’t involve you.”

  “We didn’t let you out of Hell to wreak more havoc,” Sam said, pushing some hair behind her ears.

  I lit a cigarette and waved it around. “I�
��m trying to help. You don’t want it, that’s on you.”

  “It’s impossible for you not to create trouble, isn’t it?” Josh asked.

  “Duh.” I exhaled, forming rings with the smoke.

  Speak of the devil.

  Jenny McPherson walked in our direction. I looked back at the two of them and smiled. “You two can stay here and argue. If you find a better way to get the information we need, then do it. I’m taking this girl’s virginity regardless. You can stomp your feet and pout if you want, but it’s not going to change anything.”

  I waved and moved closer to Jenny.

  “Hey, Bart.”

  I tried to hide my disgust at being called Bart. “Hello there.”

  “How did the rest of your first day go?” She popped open the trunk of her beat-up Toyota and set her book bag in it.

  “All downhill after my Macbeth rant.”

  Jenny laughed. “It was a good rant. People don’t do it enough, I think. They’re so afraid to speak their mind or show their true emotions. As if they’ll get picked on for being human.”

  I don’t know about you, but I pick on them because they are human.

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I agree. Everyone seems so afraid to have an opinion and be individuals. They just don’t get that it’s okay to go against the grain.”

  Jenny stopped for a moment. A small smile crept across her lips. “I couldn’t agree more. Makes people so susceptible to manipulation by all kinds of things. It’s horrible.”

  I gave her a million-dollar grin. “Indeed.”

  Samantha called out to me. They were ready to leave, with or without me. I said goodbye to Jenny and felt her gaze on my back as I walked away.

  Monica was nuts. There was nothing crafty about that girl at all. She would be putty in my hands.

  I’d told Quincy that afternoon to stock my cabinets with wine, booze, and cigarettes past capacity. I wanted to come home to a kitchen overflowing with that stuff. When I got home after school the following day, I rushed into the kitchen to see if he had done as I asked. Throwing open the cabinet doors, the wondrous vision of fine liquor, wine, and Marlboro Reds greeted me like old friends. I grabbed a bottle of Grey Goose, spun the top off, and started chugging. Sweet mercy, did that vodka go down smooth.

  I sat in a chair on my balcony, smoking a cigarette and enjoying a drink, when my cellphone rang. Private number. I debated letting the call ring through to voicemail, but whatever. For once, I felt pretty good.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Bartholomew.”

  Well, I did feel pretty good. Now I felt like a jilted bride. My heart sank in my chest. “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted check up on my favorite parolee.”

  “You are one twisted son of a bitch, you know that? Forcing me into working with the other team.” I downed three shots of the Goose in one swallow. The burning in my throat felt outstanding.

  “It seemed like a fitting Catch-22 for someone who had the ego to challenge my rule. Either you suffer by helping Heaven, or you suffer in the Ninth Circle. I bet you wish you’d thought of it.”

  I smirked. “You know me so well, Lucifer.”

  The man downstairs laughed. “You didn’t answer my question. How are things going with the wannabe angel? Cramping your style?”

  I flicked my cigarette onto the street below and lit another. “Not really.”

  “That’s great. Just great.” The swine only called to rub this situation in my face.

  I inhaled half the cigarette in one breath. “Well, hey, look, this has been a fun chat, but I really need to, you know, do something that isn’t going to make my horns pop out.”

  “Hm hum. Just remember. The Ninth Circle is waiting for you with open arms if you screw up,” Lucifer said. “Adolf can’t wait for some new company, now that he and Judas are no longer on speaking terms. You’ve never been to the Ninth Circle, have you?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  Lucifer chuckled. “Well, let’s just say for me, personally, it’s my own little Heaven. For a demon like you? I don’t think the usual punishment down there would be enough for you, so imagine the most painful, torturous thing you can. Go on. Do it. I can wait.”

  I considered what that would be like for a moment. There’d definitely be a mixture of Christmas carolers, an endless loop of children’s television programs, and a never-ending shower under holy water.

  “Got it?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Ratchet that up about a million times, expand it to infinity and know that the Führer is right there next to you, chatting your ear off. That’s how the Ninth Circle will be for you.”

  “Great. Thanks for calling. Always great to hear from you. Auf weidersehen.” I ended the call, shaking my head. For the first time, I began to have an idea of how awful the Ninth Circle really was. I didn’t desire to go there because of the rumors, but I’d never doubted my ability to hack it, if necessary. If what Lucifer said was true, I was wrong. Dead wrong. And knowing the man downstairs, whatever tinkering he’d done would also slowly drive me insane as time went on.

  We couldn’t fail. We had to get our hands on the Shard of Gabriel. And when we had it in our possession, maybe I could flip my punishment on ole Lou and give him a butt rash for all eternity.

  I finished the bottle of Goose and left the condo. I needed a virgin.

  owntown Raleigh, especially on a weeknight, was not necessarily the easiest place to find my kind of girl. Most of the available females were over twenty-one, making them a bit too old for my taste. Plus, they all seemed more than willing to give it up. I preferred the challenge of virgins. I walked down the street to Rum Runners, an obnoxiously loud dueling piano bar that admitted girls under the legal drinking limit.

  I paid a five-dollar cover charge just to get into the place. Was there anything as ridiculous as paying to get into a bar, aside from maybe burgers made out of black beans? They were already making money from people buying alcoholic beverages. A cover charge on top of that reeked of gluttony.

  The pianists took turns playing Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing as the patrons sang along to the music. The bar was crowded and the scene so annoying, I had to fight off the urge to set fire to the place right then and there. Thanks to my ID, I couldn’t even buy a drink to numb the pain. I had to get my claws on a fake ID as soon as possible.

  I stood against the back wall, watching the crowd in front of me. I needed to find the right virgin: the perfect mix of naïveté and horny. Before I could get a really thorough look, the song, mercifully, ended. The crowd clapped and cheered. I tucked my hands underneath my arms.

  “Hey, you don’t like the music?”

  I looked over and saw a gorgeous brunette in a green tube dress. She smiled. This girl looked wholesome. Uncomfortable. Unsure of herself. Inexperienced.

  A virgin.

  I shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”

  I glanced down at her hands. Like mine, they were marked with an X to tell the bar we weren’t old enough to drink.

  We have ourselves a winner.

  “I’d probably enjoy it more, but my friend stood me up,” I said.

  The girl’s face dropped. “I’m sorry.”

  “What can you do?”

  “Well, I’m still waiting on my friends to get here,” she said. “Would you want to hang out with me?”

  “Why not?”

  Her eyes perked up. “Really? You want to?”

  “Sure. Can I get you a drink? Water? Coke?” That line just did not sound right when you couldn’t offer a girl some alcohol. At all.

  “Water.”

  We made our way through the maze of people to the bar. The place was so crowded, I could probably bang this girl against the wall and nobody would notice.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the water from the bartender. “I’m Cassandra.”

  “Beautiful name.” I introduced myself and shook her hand.

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nbsp; After trying to chat over the sound of the dueling pianos, Cassandra and I retired to a side room where we could talk. We sat down next to each other.

  “So what happened to your friends?” I asked.

  She played with her water, which she’d been nursing. “I have a small confession to make.”

  I smiled. “Is it provocative?”

  Cassandra leaned her arms on the table, smiling nervously. “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

  I clapped my hands together. “You can tell me anything. It’s okay.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I didn’t come here to be with my friends.”

  I hadn’t thought so. “Did you come here in the hope of meeting a guy?”

  She started to say something, then stopped. Her mouth hung open until she spoke. “Maybe. It’s just… I’m nervous. I’m sorry, I feel so weird talking about this.”

  This girl screamed virgin. “You have nothing to be ashamed about. I came here to meet a guy, too.”

  Her face turned to stone. “Are you serious?”

  I burst out laughing. Inside, however, I cringed at her lack of humor. “I’m just kidding. But regardless, your radiance and beauty would be enough to make any man worship at your feet.”

  She blushed. “That’s… maybe the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Sweet statement from a sweet demon. “It’s true.” I wouldn’t lie. Honest. “So what do you say? You want to get out of here? My place is just down the street.”

  She glanced down at the table. “I don’t know.”

  I laid my hand on hers. “It’s fine. We can go, hang out, and if you feel uncomfortable at any point, we’ll call it an evening.”

  Her thumb rubbed against mine. “Promise?”

  I held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. I even have some alcohol, if you want.”

  Cassandra went starry-eyed at the mention of alcohol. “That sounds great.”

  Hook. Line. Sinker. I loved being me.

  I led her out the front entrance and started toward my condo. Cassandra tugged at my arm.

  “My car is over this way,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction. “Can I park at your place?”

  “Of course.”