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“Thank you, Jeremy. That was very informative and tedious. You can take your seat, now.”

Jeremy took his seat.

Mr. Cormac stood and addressed the class. “Lovely. Which one of you delightful curs would like to bore us with your historical insights next? Hector Goffe, how about you?”

Hector shook his head furiously and tried to shrink into his desk.

“Oh come on. You did the assignment, didn’t you?”

Of course he hadn’t. He’d planned on being dead for today’s class. In fact, not having to do any of his homework had provided all the more motivation to kill himself. And now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if he would still be able to pass any of his classes. He wasn’t sure if he should care, either.

At length, the instructor grew tired of Hector’s silence and moved on.

Hector was just waiting for the day to end. After a while, he decided to try the reaper. ‘Um... Garovel?’

‘Yeah?’

He smiled faintly. ‘Are you... er... Have you learned anything, yet?’

‘The case seems to be proceeding well. Better than I expected, in fact. I thought they would only be able to get him for attempted murder of the woman you saved, but they found evidence in his apartment which implicates him in the murders he committed previously as well.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Yes. Though, apparently you crushed the man’s windpipe.’

‘Oh shit... did... He’s not dead, is he? I wasn’t trying to--’

‘No, he’s alive. Somehow. I should’ve given you time to familiarize yourself with that level of strength.’

‘If you’d done that, then... we might not have made it to her in time...’

‘You make a fair point. By the way, her condition is good... Wait a minute.’

Hector looked around the classroom, as if it would somehow help. ‘Garovel?’

‘Uh-oh.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘One of the police officers. I see the aura of death around him.’

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At length, Garovel relented. ‘Well, have it your way.’

When Hector finally looked up again, hoping the red in his face was gone, he saw the aftermath of the food fight. Several students were cleaning up the mess under the supervision of teachers and custodians. Even after the bell rang, they were made to keep cleaning.

‘I’m going to go check on a few things while you’re in class,’ said Garovel. ‘I’ll meet up with you again after school, potentially with a new task, so be ready.’

Hector felt himself panicking slightly. ‘Ah--um... where are you going?’

‘The police station, among other places. I’d like to follow up on our serial killer’s case, make sure there aren’t any problems.’

‘Um... please... um...’

‘Hmm?’

‘Please... don’t leave me alone...’

Garovel paused for an extremely toothy smile. He tapped Hector on the head with the butt of his scythe. ‘Don’t you remember? When you talk to me in your head, I’ll hear you no matter where I am. So don’t frown like that. You understand? You’re never alone, Hector. Not anymore.’

He nodded uncertainly.

‘Unless you want to be alone, that is. Then just don’t think at me.’

‘Right...’

Throngs of students filed past him as he watched Garovel disappear through the wall’s steely blue-and-white tile. He took a breath and proceeded to his history class.

As he sat and listened to the mousy Jeremy Voller attempting to give a report about the recent history of the Crown, Hector began to wonder why he even bothered coming back to school. He could see the instructor growing more impatient with Jeremy's every redundant word. Mr. Cormac had a reputation for candidness that made most of the students like him, and Hector might have been included in that group if he didn’t find all teachers inherently frightening.

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‘What was that about?’ Garovel asked, floating closer. ‘You can’t even talk to a girl? You do remember only needing one hand to subdue a serial killer, right? Did that do nothing for your self-esteem?’

‘No, that’s not what that was. She’s... I mean... I don’t... It’s because she’s from the carpentry club and... I... ’

‘Hmm? You have a history with her?’

Hector tilted his brow at the reaper. ‘You... don’t already know?’

Garovel merely shook his head.

‘I thought you knew everything about me...’

‘I occasionally followed you around a bit over the course of seven months. I don’t know your entire life story.’

‘R-right...’ Hector occupied himself with the stain on his shirt. The slash of red reminded him of the bloodied shirt he trashed the night before.

‘So? Who is she to you, then?’

He glanced in the direction she had gone and saw her eating with a bunch of other students. ‘I was almost part of that group,’ he said. ‘We were... we were almost friends, I guess...’

Garovel followed him back to his table, phasing through a passing lacrosse player. ‘I take it things didn’t end very well.’

Hector didn’t answer.

‘Tell me what happened.’

He sighed and grabbed his fork. ‘Why?’

‘Do you remember what I said before? You would help me, and I would help you.’

‘Thanks, but... there’s nothing to help with...’

‘Even so, I’d like to know more about you.’

A wash of gratitude ran through him like a shiver, and Hector hid his face downward, as if his food could be so utterly fascinating. For an incredible moment, he thought he might actually cry, which only made him flush with embarrassment. He wished he could tell Garovel how much those words just now had meant to him, but he just couldn’t. He didn’t know what was stopping him, and he hated whatever it was, but he just couldn’t.