Knight Stalker by Julie Steimle (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

guy’s fancy prep school uniform or his perfectly groomed hair. I could hear Troy Meecham already whisper to the boys next to him, their imps suggesting spit wads and fake gum to welcome this stranger properly with a prank.
“Pardon the interruption, class. Please welcome Michael Toms, a new acquaintance of mine through some old business. He will be attending our school during his spring break—”
“That sucks,” Dennis Clearey said aloud.
Mr. McDillan gave him a dirty look. “So treat him well. He is to be learning from me, mostly.”
“History all day long?” Becky Dominae turned her head as if to vomit.
I had to agree. All day under the eyes of Mr. McDillan was like being on the rack.
“Please take a seat and get a piece of paper from one of the students,” Mr. McDillan said to the new boy.
Michael Toms nodded to him then walked down the aisle next to mine, going straight to the empty seat right behind Peter Daniels. He paused, though, and glanced at me, suddenly clenching his palm. Then he looked up at Mr. McDillan who had a small smile on his lips. I didn’t like it. The exchange was suspicious. Michael continued to his seat after that, but I could have sworn he was watching me. His imps confirmed it.
“You found it. Now kill it,” one shouted.
He did nothing.
Mr. McDillan went back to the front of the room. “If your papers are numbered and your name and class period is written on the paper, then we will begin.”
He took up a stray note from his class folder and glanced at it before calling out the first question.
“Question one: What pagan goddess was worshipped in the season that Easter was named after?”
I blinked and then tilted my head. Pagan goddess? I hadn’t a clue. I thought Easter was Christian entirely.
“Question two: What are the real origins of Hot Cross Buns?”
Several of the students snickered. I shrugged and wrote that it was British.
“Questions three, four and five: Name three pagan symbols of fertility we use regularly in the current holiday of today.”
He set his paper down into the folder. I looked up and frowned at him. Everyone was snickering about symbols of fertility, several of the others nudging their neighbor. Biting my lip in thought, I lowered my eyes to my paper and wrote down one. Eggs. I knew Easter eggs were fertility symbols. Then I added rice. But that did not seem to relate to the holiday. That was for weddings.
“Pencils down. Pass the papers up.” Mr. McDillan stalked over to the front of the rows to collect the quizzes.
As soon as he had them all in hand, he set them on his desk and took up his quiz sheet again. Now was when we vocally answered each question.
“Can anyone tell me the pagan goddess’s name?” he asked.
No one raised his hand.
“Do you know, Michael?” Mr. McDillan looked towards the new boy.
Michael rose from his seat. Raising his chin, he said with voice that was calm, young, and not at all matching his firm exterior, “The goddess’s name is Eostre. She was a Celtic goddess of the moon and of spring.”
“Nerd,” someone muttered, mimicking his imp’s jeers.
I turned with a look, seeing Troy Meecham snickering with Peter. Tabby McMahone was also giggling, though she really had no right since she used to be the class geek.
“Correct,” said Mr. McDillan, oblivious to the rude comments of our peers in the back row. “Question two? The origin of Hot Cross Buns?”
“It’s a song,” someone said with a giggle.
Others laughed, me included.
Mr. McDillan frowned. “No. I am talking about the food. Does anyone know of their origins?”
Frowning, I slid back into my seat. They had to be pagan too. All the answers were about that I was sure. I just didn’t know a thing about Celtic lore even if it was part of the Scottish/Irish heritage in our town. I was a Northern Californian, and that was all I cared about in regards to culture.
“Hot cross buns,” Michael Toms said, “are breads made on Ostara in tribute to the goddess Eostre. The cross is a symbol of male and female energies unified.”
The boys around him broke into laughter. Some made catcalls.
“Inappropriate,” said Mr. McDillan, glaring down on them so that they hushed up in seconds. “And Mr. Toms is correct again. You ought to expand your horizons and learn the cultures that established our civilization.”
I snorted, leaning on my elbow. Already I could hear their imps shouting for the boys to tell Mr. McDillan that his sense of civilization was insane. He loved bloody history. I suppose that had to do with him being a retired vampire hunter.
“Is something funny, Miss McAllister?” He turned towards me with a glare.
Lifting my head off my hand and my elbow off my desk, realizing that I had laughed aloud, I straightened up and said, “Uh, well…Sort of.”
Some of my classmates drew in breaths waiting for what crazy thing I would say. I had outbursts in our class regularly, though mostly I was reacting to the imp noise that was sometimes too much to bear.
“Well then, share the joke. We all like a good laugh,” he said.
I shook my head, lifting my hands up. “Oh, no. It wasn’t that funny.”
“I said share it.”
He peered at me with a glare.
Groaning, I said, “It was nothing.”
“And I said share it, or can’t you hear?”
Closing my eyes, I said, “I was just thinking that your kind of culture isn’t what I would consider culture.”
“And what would you consider culture?” Mr. McDillan asked with a sneer.
I promptly replied, “A surf board and some good waves.”
My classmates burst into laughter. Mr. McDillan rolled his eyes. He walked back to the front of the room. “For your smart mouth, you’ll stay after school for detention.”
“Oh…” I slumped against my desk again, muttering into it. “Well, your idea of culture is beheadings and torture chambers.”
The girls next to me snickered, however Mr. McDillan went back to reading his list.
“Questions three through five?”
People called out things like Easter rabbits and eggs and chickens and ducks and fruit. I just stared at my desk, glad I got at least one answer right.
The rest of the class hour he had us read the chapter about the Korean War. Though my eyes were on the book the entire time, I could still feel those eyes on my back, hearing the same voices of those imps telling that boy to jump out and cut my head off. An associate of Mr. McDillans? Yeah. I believed it. The boy’s imps were just like his, always suggesting ways to kill me.
Happily the class bell rang, and I would be out of there and off to English. There I would find peace. After all, the kid nut would be staying with Mr. McDillan, obviously to learn bloody history and plot the demise of a certain demon. My only relief was that they could not do it at school.
All of us hopped from our seats. I was practically the first one out the door.

“Eve, you look jumpy. What happened?” Jane stared across her lunch at me as I tried to eat the hoagie I had bought from the cafeteria.
I shuddered again and said to her with a shake of my head, “That weird kid I saw outside school this morning, the one with the Mercedes and driver, he came to Mr. McDillan’s class.”
“What kid, what Mercedes and what driver? I didn’t see that this morning.” Jane tilted her head and closed one eye. “This isn’t like those imps that—”
“No. All of the others in my class saw him. Somebody even called him a nerd.” I took a bite and chewed, dropping my elbow on the table with a frown.
“Was he a nerd?” Jane asked.
I shook my head. “No. That’s the thing. He’s creepy like Mr. McDillan. In fact, Mr. McDillan introduced him as a new associate.”
“New associate.” Jane looked sincerely shocked. “Of Mr. McDillan’s? Yeah, he would be creepy.”
That was when Michael strolled into the cafeteria. His hands were in his pockets like one of those cool kids that didn’t have a care in the world, and he was looking around as if searching for someone, though not all that interested in what he was seeing. His eyes turned my way. I ducked pulling on Jane’s sleeve.
Pointing. “That’s him! The guy.”
Jane turned, took a look and then lifted her eyebrows. “Private school kid? Ok. Yeah, I remember now. I saw him. I didn’t think anything of it though. He didn’t look like he was coming to our school. He was waiting on a man in the hall when I went to class.”
I frowned.
“Hey, Eve, can I eat with you?” Dawn set down her tray of food and dropped into the seat next to me. Though we were sisters we never spent time together at school if she could help it. Dawn had this perfect angel look about her with her blond curls, curvy figure and flushed rosy cheeks; and I was the exact opposite: straight up and down from hair to body shape, my only curves in my chest though with no rear to balance it out, and no skin color at all; but I was the good little girl and she was the rebel. However, Dawn slumped on the table and started to eat as if she didn’t care she was seen with me that day.
“So, what’s up?” I asked, tilting my head to look into her down-turned face.
Dawn lifted her head with a sigh. “Brigid and Breanna are being jerks today. I’m not talking to them.”
Those were Dawn’s double-crossing back stabbing Goth friends. Around Halloween I caught them writing nasty things about my sister on the mirror and, of course, gave them the fright of their lives for it. Since that time they had been avoiding me. Of course they always avoided me.
“Ok,” I said and I turned back towards Jane. When I did, I saw Michael Toms standing right next to her giving me a nod as soon as my eyes met his. Of course he couldn’t see that they were orange since I wore my sunglasses as usual.
“Hello. Can I