CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Devil’s voice followed me every hour of every day.
It was difficult to concentrate on schoolwork with him whispering in my ear, reminding me what awaited me after death because of the demon festering in my soul.
You’re feeling sorry for yourself, he whispered on the walk between ancient history to mathematics, but it is all your fault. You drove them all away because you are not good enough. You will never be good enough.
I tightened my grip on my bag strap and tried to shut him out, but my silence only encouraged him further.
You will always be alone. Even Auden will leave you one day. And it will just be you. And me. Forever.
I dropped my bag outside the classroom and carried my workbook and laptop inside, dumping it into my usual seat near the back window.
Alexander watched me, his dark green eyes menacing.
I dismissed him, as I usually did, and waited for the lesson to begin, ignoring the way the Devil described all the ways he’d dismember my classmates, starting with Alexander.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Mrs Nguyen greeted us in her usual, clipped tone. She set her laptop down beside a tall pile of papers on her desk. “As promised, I have your exam results. Overall, a good effort, though some of you appear to be neglecting your studies.”
Chatter filled the room as students received their results. There were gasps, high fives, groans and curses. Alexander whooped loudly, his mark no doubt one of the higher ones in the class.
As Mrs Nguyen approached me, her usual warm smile and quiet congratulations was notably absent, the paper placed on my desk in silence.
The fifty-five percent blinked up at me in a glaring red, my ears ringing and head burning as I tried to process what I was seeing.
Not once had I received anything below eighty percent.
Not even in mathematics, which was definitively my worst subject.
While other students may have been relieved to have passed, I felt as though the world was crumbling all around me. This could not be real.
I rummaged through the paper, reading the provided feedback, drinking it all in like a wild animal while chatter continued all around me.
I overheard students comparing their marks: sixty-seven, eighty-one, seventy-nine.
Alexander bragged about his ninety-six, the highest in the class, no doubt.
He must have been surprised I hadn't contested him, for he whirled around in his seat and pinned me with a questioning look.
I scowled and avoided his gaze, biting down on the inside of my mouth to avoid the tears that threatened to fall.
"Do you have an explanation for these results, Augustus?
" Aunt Vera asked later that evening. We sat across from one another at the dining table, empty plates of food collected by Mrs Brighton as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
I hadn't intended on informing her of my failure, but she'd caught me staring at my exam papers instead of studying at my desk.
"I…haven't been sleeping well," I murmured, which wasn't entirely a lie.
"There will be no more drawing or painting in your art studio until your marks improve," she said, "and no screen time past seven."
"But—"
"And," she cut me off, eyes narrowing, "you will complete your homework in the library where I can supervise you. Not your bedroom."
I swallowed. "You don't trust me to study?"
"I have invested far too much money in your education to risk your failure in these critical years," she replied. "You're not my child. This is not charity. You will improve, do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I wished I could say that my fifty-five percent was a one off, that it was a freak incident that had not repeated itself. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning.
My English essay was handed back to me with a sixty percent, my ancient history assignment a fifty-nine, and my visual arts project a sixty-five. Instead of improving, I only seemed to be getting worse.
Wow, the Devil said as I stared down at yet another low scoring assessment result, you’re not even good at school anymore. Even good grades are running away from you.
The fifty in biology—my lowest mark yet—was a gut wound that could not be mended. I would bleed out, my body swimming in its own pool of blood.
Pathetic, really, the Devil went on, what good are you if you’re, you know, not any good? And Aunt Vera paid all this money…
My hands curled into fists at my side, knuckles whiter than clean snow as I breathed through my racing heartbeat and nausea.
You’re such a disappointment, Augustus. Really. You let Alexander win. And without even putting up a fight.
“Shut. Up,” I whispered.
I can’t believe you’re failing everything. No, wait, I can. You ruin everything.
"I said shut up."
If you can't even maintain good grades, what can you do? You're a failure. A failure, a failure, a fail—
“SHUT UP!”
The room went silent.
Heads swivelled in my direction, some bewildered and some annoyed. Alexander stared at me as though I had grown a second head and Ava frowned, studying me like a confusing piece of art.
“Augustus?” Mr Han approached me, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled down. “What’s the matter?”
My cheeks warmed, leg bouncing up and down uncontrollably as I picked at my nails. I wanted to run. I wanted to run far, far away until I couldn’t run anymore. And so, I did.
Without taking any of my things, I launched to my feet and sprinted out of the room.
Mr Han called out to me, but no one followed as I fled the building and travelled across the school yard.
My feet guided me to the only place nearby where I felt safe.
The art block. I found the empty art studio, slipped inside, and slammed the door shut behind me.
As soon as I did, I pressed my back against the door and slid to the ground, my whole body trembling as ugly sobs burst from my mouth.
I cried, and cried, and cried until exhaustion took over and I merely sat with my head hung low, the Devil finally quiet.
***
The window in Principal Reid’s office was open, a cool breeze wafting through to brush my curls out of my eyes.
She was seated behind her desk, elbows resting on the dark oak wood while I sat in the chair across from her, my restless hands busying themselves with a piece of lint I’d torn off my sweater.
It had been a few days since my outburst in Mr Han’s biology classroom, a few days since I’d deigned to attend school.
Mrs Brighton hadn’t really believed I was sick, so she’d called Aunt Vera who was visiting theatres in Paris. She warned me that if I didn’t resume classes, she would withdraw access to my art studio permanently.
And so here I was, in Principal Reid’s office.
“I know year eleven can be…an adjustment,” she was saying, her voice blending in with the Devil who sang church songs from the chair beside me. “But the drastic drop in your marks, your absences, your outburst…we’re all very concerned for you, Augustus. Can you tell me what is going on?”
Tell her about me, I dare you.
“I’m fine.” The lie slipped out of me before I could catch it.
I knew I wasn’t fine—far from it, actually—but I dreaded the consequences of admitting the truth.
The last time I’d shared my real feelings, Ava had stopped talking to me.
And although I didn’t believe Principal Reid would grant me that same silent treatment, I did fear what she would force me to do.
“Do you have an explanation for what happened in Mr Han’s classroom?” she asked.
“I was overstimulated,” I told her, and that wasn’t necessarily a lie. “I was disappointed in my results and…I lashed out. It was wrong. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“And your four-day absence?” she pushed on.
Tell her how you spent all day in bed. You didn’t even shower, you dirty freak.
“Unwell,” I forced out. “And much better now.”
A quiet sigh escaped Principal Reid’s throat as she leaned back in her seat, watching me.
I kept my head down, afraid that if she glimpsed my red-rimmed eyes, she’d see right through me.
“I had high hopes for you, Mr Saint,” she said after an agonising moment of silence.
“You’re an intelligent young man. If you’d asked me who would be school Dux a month ago, I would have said you.
” She shook her head, disappointment darkening her features.
“I don’t know what is going on. And I have known you long enough to know you won’t tell me what it is.
But it is important you get yourself together for these final years, Augustus.
Don’t throw your future away. If you put your head down, and work hard, I truly believe you’ll get into a university of your choosing, in any field you desire. ”
I swallowed hard, a heavy weight sinking into my chest. She was right.
I needed to put myself back together. I owed it to myself, and Auden, to secure a good future for us.
The Devil was a test I could not fail. I’d let him drive my mother away, and Ava too, but I would not let him drive away my future.
***
Sleepless nights with my face buried in a book chased the nightmares away.
My marks returned to eighty percent and above as I slipped into my final year, though the fear of failure never left, haunting me down every corridor and down every staircase.
Success was not easy to obtain, it required hours of study, exams often finding me in my dreams, where I had five minutes left to complete a one-thousand-word essay. I would wake up, in a cold sweat, the Devil on the bed beside me, laughing at the stress that had its tight grip around me.