Santi: The Devil's Pioneer

Chapter 19 - Appearance is A Must

            “You look more aggravated than usual.” Kiki comments, seeing Emily’s annoyed face.

“Don’t start with me. You’ve had enough and you will not ruin our evening again.” She says, agitated.

“No, seriously. What’s wrong?” Kiki presses on.

Emily, annoyed at her friend, clings unto me instead. I look at her short stature. She stopped right below my neck. I could see the top of her head. She looks up at me, probably waiting for someone to take her side and make Kiki shut up.

I take a moment to study Emily’s facial features. She was a gorgeous specimen, even when she was angry. Whatever her parents had to do to make her, worked effectively.

Her hair was a golden auburn color with darker highlights. Her curls stopped just above her shoulders, with side bangs covering the upper half of her face. Her eyes were green. Not emerald and not as shiny as Emman’s. More of a jade color.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Emily’s soul was a lot darker.

Above her eyes were her full lush lashes. Obviously professionally done. Her eyebrows were arched high, giving her a tough RBF. It fit her persona. No one dared near her but those who truly knew her.

Her skin, on the other hand, was opposite her soul. She was almost as pale as me. I mentioned it to her earlier at the beach. She said she believed tan was a scam. All it gave you was cancer. So far, her skin was the only thing natural on her. She wasn’t as pale as me, though. Hell was a different tanning machine. No, she had a pinker undertone.

Man, God sure did her a great big favor.

Her face was the shape of the bejeweled diamond. Her genes did her good. Her lips, I noticed, were always flushed. As if she was always excited or full of adrenaline. They were bow-shaped and in the color pink. Her teeth were pearly white.

Her head turns and she smiles at me.

“I know you find me fine, Santi. But quit staring.” Here she goes again, fishing for compliments.

“I’m sorry. You’re just really unique.” I find myself saying. Unique was one thing to describe her.

Never had I met a creature that can be so vile and rebellious but also this genetically blessed. God was playing on humans. His play-house time was legit impressive.

“Aww, thank you. I find you cute, too.” Emily sweetly answers.

The boys inwardly gag at the exhaustion of feminine air that surrounded them.

“We know you’re both cute. No need to announce it.” Emman jokes as he approaches the group.

We were now gathered in front of the school gate, by the quadrant, as Emman had instructed. Apparently, this was some kind of tradition for them.

“Tell me again, why are we waiting here?” They had installed wood benches on the opposite side of the hall.

“Uhh, this is a tradition as old as time.” Peter answers.

“Since we don’t always have the same classes, we make time for our friends after school.”

“Don’t you get tired from a day-long of lectures and school works?” I was genuinely curious.

It was easier for them to part ways. See each other when they can. Putting this much effort into something that just creates a whole other level of exhaustion on you. Why do humans put themselves into torture? Hell has enough kinds of torture. They didn’t have to start so early.

“You make time for the ones who matter, Santi.” Emily reaches for my arm and I reach back. Her answer was genuine. I could see in their eyes that each one of them felt comfort and belongingness in each other.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that from anyone else but my father.

He was my safe space. He was my comfort. For 300 years, I had only known to belong to him and his kingdom.

But this was refreshing. To see them, especially Emily, so accepting and welcoming of me. A total stranger. Humans weren’t so bad, after all.

“You guys are cute, but you are toxic. We are men, and we,” Kiki raises his clothes to display his rock-hard abs and shoulder muscles. “Need to be men!”

Talk about toxic masculinity. Barfing at the sight of genuine moments, especially when it comes from women.

They laugh along but I stare at Kiki. He was acting shy earlier this morning. But he was more energetic and robust this afternoon. It was a drastic change of energy.

“He’s drunk,” Emman whispers to me.

Oh. Well, that makes sense.

“Don’t mind him so much. He just likes to take out his silliness whenever he’s had a couple of shots of tequila. His normal self was him this morning.” Emily looks at me, chuckling.

Kiki was a shy creature. All morning he had less than a paragraph to say to me. His shyness could also account for the fact that he had a chipped tooth. Almost the same location as Emman’s chipped tooth.

He smiles, crookedly.

“Where’d you chip your tooth?” I ask out of plain curiosity. Kiki meets gaze with Emman who both laughs it off. But none of them answers me.

“So anyway, Brenda from AP is throwing a birthday bash tonight. Does anyone want to come?” Emily offers.

No one speaks. In fact, Peter and Emman’s gaze wander so far out, they weren’t even looking inside the school. I think they found interest in the cute little box of ice cream van parked on the other side of the street.

Kiki meets gaze with me and I find the exact moment to see those ocean blue eyes, just shimmering back at me. They were large and almond-shaped. His hair was black but not very dark. Its curls gave it volume that would sway with every gust of wind. His lips were pursed, rough, and rigid. He had seen some dark life in the past. A life he’s not proud of. I can tell. Humans always had this some sort of tell in their faces. You always knew they were guilty of something– of one or the other.

Kiki was of the Mediterranean race. It was obvious from his olive skin and Greek jaw form. What I don’t get is why he’s shy. He is the definition of beautiful for humans. God created their race with so much favoritism, it fell like a waterfall upon them. He was Greek, mesmerizing, and he had well-defined muscles. He also studies in an American school full of dumb blondes and thirsty jocks.

“I’ll go with you, Emily.” I take up Emily’s offer. It was an absent-minded decision. But all I had in mind was not sleeping on the streets. I’d follow Emily anywhere if I could make sure that never happens.

“Aww thanks, babe.” She turns to the boys one by one. “Any of you boys going to respond?” She sassily says with a hand on the hips.

“I can’t. Football practice.” Emman coughs, not meeting Emily’s gaze.

“You don’t play football.”

“I mean, basketball.”

“Loser.” Emily scoffs. Emman scratches the back of his nape again.

This was a habit. If I don’t know any better, I’d guess he has literal scratches back there. That must be why he often covers it with collared shirts.

He turns his back on me, and just as I suspected. As he grabs his shirt lower, the collar exposes fading scratch marks on his nape. He must’ve gotten nervous a lot of times.

“Emman, are you nervous?” I ask.

“You ask a lot of embarrassing questions.” Emman approaches me and places an arm around my shoulder, deliberately trying to avoid answering any of my questions. Everyone else laughed it off but I shrug it off.

“Mind your space, please.” I look up at him, politely taking his arm off of me completely. He smiles a little before distancing himself, without any more words.

Emman shared a lot of facial features with Emily. It was almost as if they were siblings. He also had green eyes. Although he was more mesmerizing, like a piece of emerald jewelry, brightening up the night sky. Another of his defining characteristics was his mouth. He had downward-turned lips that always rested in a soft pout. He also had that same chipped tooth by the upper right corner, like Kiki’s. His nose wasn’t as well-defined as Kiki’s or Emily’s but it complimented his big eyes. His lashes were also full and long. His eyebrows were as black as the night. As was the hair on his head. It had soft waves and a slight brown hue to them. But under dark light, it was considerably black. His body structure wasn’t as well-defined as Kiki’s, as well, but it was more toned compared to Peter. One could easily tell by looking at the arm muscles that couldn’t be covered by his shirt. He wasn’t the bodybuilder type like Kiki’s was, but he definitely worked out enough.

“Santi, you’re drooling, dear.”

Well, f*ck.

“What?” I play dumb. Fortunately, the guys didn’t hear our whispered conversation.

“Nothing. I was just kidding.” She smirks, knowingly.

Damn, these crazy human hormones are making me a little cuckoo.

“So, anyone wants to grab a drink before going home?” Peter asks, to which they all reluctantly agreed.

“It’s kind of a tradition, I dare say? We hang out at this bar every day after school.” Emily whispers.

Kiki then leaves to take his car out of the parking lot. We waited by the gate. Emily and Emman chatted. Peter, on the other hand, looked freaked.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I was the only one paying attention to him.

“Yeah, yeah. This is normal.” He answers.

His grey-blue eyes looked awful in his freaked-out state. It was like he was having a mini panic attack. I mentally panic, as well, not knowing what to do. Demons weren’t particularly the panic type of creatures.

Emily and Emman stop their conversation momentarily and look at Peter. Emman approaches him, takes Peter’s bag, and holds him upright. And he slaps him right across the face.

I gasp.

Well, that was surreal. I look at Emily and she was back to texting on her phone. Emman didn’t even blink when he slapped Peter.

Shocked, I grabbed Emman’s arm away from Peter. Yes, I was imposing. I was new to this friendship. I had been brought into it by Emily. But that was hell.

“What was that?!” I shouted in a whispery voice, if that’s even possible, at Emman.

“He needed it.”

“He needed it?”

“Look, Santi. I know you’re new here. But you should know this now, in case one of us needs to slap Peter again and you somehow beat us to death.”

I sneer at him, annoyed at the insinuation. Yes, I can beat them to death. But no, I’m not that kind of person.

“I’m sorry. I just mean so we can avoid your deathly and judgemental stares. The slap was a momentary call back to Earth, I guess? Peter gets these episodes. They’re like ticks but they’re not as frequent. Maybe at least less than 10 episodes per day. On lucky days, he gets two, at most.”

“Episodes? Ticks?” I asked, confused.

“He’s medically diagnosed. I forgot the term, but it’s a condition with his brain. He functions all right. He just gets these extra ticks that can either come in the form of erratic behavior or anxious-panic style.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and he takes medications for it. Maintenance and everything. But there’s nothing he can do really. It’s got no cure. But a slap, pinch, or any physical intervention, really, solves it.”

“I didn’t know that.” I had nothing to say. I completely misjudged the situation. I had set my prejudices and emotions in my heart before even knowing, or asking, for the truth. That was my call back to Earth.

“It’s okay, I know. Just ease back next time, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry, again.”

We return to the group to see that Kiki was driving by with his vehicle already.

“Hop on, losers.” He shouts with an open window.

I look at Peter and he was significantly better. As if nothing had happened. It was a normal and everyday occurrence for them.

As I look at him, I noticed his sweatshirt that kept rising his arm. He was pretty muscular compared to Emman, so his muscles keep catching on his clothes. As he swings his arms, I notice long marks on his wrist. The number one telltale. But they seemed to be old scars as they were almost faded. Peter immediately notices his wrist showing and pulls his sweatshirt back down.

His white-blonde hair was slicked back. It was stiff, as was his posture. Peter was your typical American boy-next-door. He was charming, funny, and just enough pinch of danger. As he said, he had been in jail. He wasn’t at all innocent. He had a serious face on. His lips were thin and pursed. His eyes were dark, but he always pretended there was a sparkle of joy there. Hence, the funny idioms and comments.

We climbed into the car. Emman rode in the passenger seat, while the three of us sat in the back.

“So, where are we headed?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood after it got significantly depressing knowing Peter had a medical condition.

“There’s this bar downtown. Just a little bit farther away from anyone’s home. Enough so none of us gets ambushed by any of our parents, you know?” Emman answers.

I nod, completely understanding their point of view. At least I think I understand.

“It’s called Chasers. A lot of high school kids hang out there, actually.” Emily continues.

“They serve you alcohol?”

“Grease some palms up and they do.” She winks. They’re sneaky. “It opened about a year and a half ago. We started going there last year. Some friend of mine told me they served minors.”

Well, they should be shut down.

“Here we are!” Emily shouts, excitedly.

We hop off the car to find myself in front of a lowkey bar purposely hidden from direct view. It was more of a basement to the buildings by the road and the door was perfectly camouflaged with the walls.

“This seems skeevy.” I couldn’t help but comment. Human Santi is too honest for her own good.

“Don’t worry. The people here are very chill and they have protective measures for those under 21s. Just don’t call the cops on them.”

I shrug and follow them as they enter the creepy-looking portal to booze. Inside was a cozy place with students in their uniforms rushing by. In fact, their interior was so cozy, it had an actual working fireplace. Placed in front of it was a bear rug. Although, I doubt it was real bear fur. It was like the insides of a cabin in the woods. The chairs were couch-like. The table was wood. There was a jukebox by the corner and a grand piano on the other. The windows were made of blurry glass and they covered half of the entire wall space. There were also– I wanna say chic? But it looks lame– paintings of the Eiffel Tower, vintage items, and a fake Mona Lisa. The color scheme of the entire place screamed a mashup of a Canadian log cabin and a French bar.

There weren’t a lot of people. The place was actually more spacy than how it looked from the outside. Maybe more than twenty people were inside. But it could definitely get stuffier later on as more and more people arrive. After all, it was a Friday night. What better way can spend their Friday nights than at the chic bar that every popular person goes to?

“I’ll get us drinks.” Emman offers.

The group heads to a spot with tables to fit all five of us. It was in the middle of the room. You could see everything happening from here. People entering the doorway. Servers from the bar. The counter where people order. Passersby with intense stares. Honestly, the group of friends I manage to make here on Earth are so effortlessly well-known, it’s like I want the angels to find and ambush me.

“I know it looks a little lame, but give it a chance.”

“Yeah, it’s lame. But it’s the only bar that serves us.” Peter shrugs.

“I don’t judge. I’ve never tasted beer, anyway.” I tell them. Emily’s eyes widen. So did Peter’s and Kiki’s.

“You’re shidding me?”

“I don’t think so.” I keep on a straight face. What was so surprising about that? We were supposed to be all minors here. If anything, none of us should be drinking alcohol.

“Oh, girl, you’re missing out on so much.”

“It’s not the drink, per se, it’s the moments and relationships you create while drinking it.” Kiki shares.

Well, that’s a hugely flawed argument.

“I guess I’m excited to try it?” I try to fake enthusiasm. Just then, Emman returns with five bottles of beer on hand.

“Yo, Santi’s a beer-virgin,” Peter tells him with a laugh.

Emman looks at me with his head tilted sideways.

“That’s news.” He comments. “I thought you were a rebel.”

I scoff at his remark. Just because I accidentally made my way to jail, does not mean I automatically want to do bad things.

But, oh, the bad things I want to do here on Earth. Destroying this so-called paradise. Hunting down the angels, one by one.

What a dream.

“Here, you take the first sip.” Emman hands me a bottle of beer, and I look at everyone around the table. Emily looked giddy. Peter and Kiki are grinning. Emman, who still hasn’t sat down and is towering me in my seat, smiles excitedly.

I take a sip of my beer and felt the same afterward. I don’t really see the big deal about this.

“So?” Emily asks.

“It tastes bitter. But with a hint of nuttiness.” I answer, truthfully.

Everyone’s faces drop down in disappointment. I almost laugh to myself. What was wrong with not liking beer?

“What?” I ask everyone.

“Ahh, nothing. Beer is disappointing to drink for the first time.” Peter remarks.

The rest of the night goes like a blur. Halfway through it, the beer finally entered my system and I started to loosen up. Emily and I took a chance at the jukebox. She had had way too many bottles to drink. She somehow puked and dance through one song at some time during our night out.

We ended the night around 10:30. Everyone was drunk enough to be tired. But not too drunk to go home. Except for Kiki who stopped drinking after two bottles as he was driving. Emily had also sobered up after puking.

“Emily, I’ll drop you off first. I assume you’ll be putting Santi up?” Kiki asks, all responsible and big-brotherly to the group.

“Yeah, take us to my apartment.” She answers.

“Wait, that’s where you’re going home?” Emman interjects with a slur. He hadn’t sobered up at all. In fact, he still had one bottle in his hand.

“Yeah, just until after the issue dies down, you know.”

Everyone was speaking in whispers but I wanted to shout so much. I fight off the urge to jump and shout around and cling to Emily’s arm.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Aww,” I hear Emily say. “I’m not gonna leave you, darling.”

It was the last thing I heard before dozing off.