The School Life of The Other Demon

Hate It Here

Demetria's P.O.V.:

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" I ask Damian as we climb up the beige marbled stairs.

"Tch. I know what I'm doing," he says, staring intently at the map.

"If you say so," I mutter. "We should text Tim our lunch. When's our lunch?" I take the paper with our schedule on it and begin to read the information. I continue to stare at the words, confused at the list. "I know over twenty languages, both modern and ancient, but what the hell is this?!"

"It's in English, Dee," Damian says, putting the map down.

We reach the third floor of the building. We come face to face with two white metal doors, an entrance towards the floor. Damian opens the door, keeping it open with his foot, allowing me to walk through.

With the paper still in my hands, I walk through the door, looking side to side. To the right, left, and front, are hallways, branching out in numerous directions. The polished, turquoise walls covered in papers, pictures, bulletins, lockers, and trophy cases, go on for miles. Mind the exaggeration. But the hallways do seem excessively long. "Which way?"

I hear the door close behind us as the paper in Damian's hands begins to rustle. I turn my head to find Damian glaring daggers into the paper. "Tch. Give me that." I grab the map out of Damian's hands and trade it with the schedules in mine. "I'll figure out the directions while you text Tim."

"I want nothing to do with that buffoon," he complains.

"You look like a buffoon, just standing here and staring cluelessly at a piece of paper," I retort.

"You couldn't even read the schedule!" he exclaims.

"Hey! Shouldn't you two be in class?!"

Damian and I turn our heads to the sound of the voice to find a dark-haired woman in a business outfit—white undershirt, black blazer, black skirt, black heels, thin glasses, pearl necklace, and a tight bun. She stalks over to us with an intimidating expression that would force the norm to succumb to her. Keyword: the norm.

"What are you two doing here?" she asks, stopping in front of us with her arms crossed. She looks down at us with an intense aura. 'Intense'.

"Forced into a hell hole," Damian mutters.

"Excuse me?!" the lady exclaims. "Are you two asking for detention?"

"What's detention?" I ask.

"Isn't that a place where they put troubled children?" Damian asks. "A juvenile detention center?"

"Are schools allowed to send their students to those places?" I ask.

"Maybe. I wouldn't be surprised."

"City people are weird."

"Wait," the lady says, glaring at us. "Who are you two. I've never seen you two here before."

Damian and I look up at the lady. Upon looking up, her eyes turn to saucers, widening to the extent. "Y-You're the Wayne twins!"

Damian and I cock our eyebrows and look towards each other. Turning our attention back to her, we nod our heads, confirming our identities.

"I apologize," she quickly says. "We just have a small batch of students who frequently skip class. I've been monitoring the halls lately to catch them."

"We didn't ask," Damian bluntly comments.

"Pardon me?" she grits out.

"We're slightly lost," I interfere, not wanting to be a primary witness for a disembodied woman.