He stopped. 'I know this is a lot to grasp.'
'No, not at all,' I said. 'I'm a half-demon princess. Sure. What's so hard to grasp about that?'
Michael was crazy. Certifiable. Maybe that's why I'd never seen him around school before-because he didn't go there at all. He was an escaped mental patient. Somebody dangerous and about to have a major psychotic break if he hadn't already had one. And for some reason I'd managed to work my way into his delusion. Just great. It was sick and twisted, and I'd feel sorry for him if I didn't feel incredibly concerned for my own safety.
He eyed me warily. 'So you accept everything I've told you?'
'Demons don't exist.' 'Yes, they do.' 'No, they don't.'
He sighed. 'I'm sorry I wasn't able to explain it properly. That's why you have to come with me and see for yourself.'
I backed up a step. 'I'm not going anywhere with you.'
'Please, Princess, your father needs to see you. You have to come with me-' But I wasn't listening anymore. I turned and ran away from him as fast as my feet could carry me, thundering up the stairs in record time and down the street to my house where I slammed the door behind me and tried to put Michael out of my mind forever.
Just as I'd expected, the house was empty when I got home. I turned the lock and stood with my back against the door, trying to bring my breathing back to normal while my head throbbed with pain.
I still had the envelope he'd given me clutched in my fist.
At least I'd gotten away from him. I guess I was a faster runner than I thought. I let out a long, shaky breath and tried to relax.
I was home. I was safe. Everything was fine.
Breathe.
I went into the kitchen and saw that my mother had left me a plate of food in the fridge-vegetable lasagna and salad-and a note reminding me about the party that night.
I wasn't hungry. Not even for leftover birthday cake.
When I passed the door again, I glanced out the side window and felt my insides freeze.
Michael was in front of my house at the end of the driveway.
Just standing there.
My heartbeat, which had just calmed down to normal, picked up its pace and panic welled up inside me again.
He'd followed me home. He knew where 1 lived.
I dropped my backpack with a thud and went to the phone. I'd call 911. They'd take care of my escaped- mental-patient stalker. Just as I reached for the phone, it rang and I shrieked, nearly jumping right out of my skin.
I picked it up and held it to my ear.
'H-h-hello?' I croaked out.
'I didn't know you had a stutter,' Melinda said, obviously amused. 'You should probably work on that. Listen, I wanted to know if anything else happened with Chris. Since I'm your official matchmaker, I'm painfully curious.'
'Melinda,' I whispered. 'You have to help me.'
'Help you? With what?'
My hand was sweating and I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder so I could wipe it against my jeans. 'That guy from the cafeteria. He followed me home. He stopped me in the park and told me the craziest things.'
'He followed you home? Are you okay?'
'I'm fine. But he's outside my house right now.'
'Have you called the cops?' she asked, concern now evident in her voice.
'I was going to, but you called first.'
'What did this freak tell you?'
'He said that I'm the daughter of a demon king from another dimension. And he wanted to take me to this other dimension to meet him.'
'A demon king,' she repeated.
'Yeah.' When she didn't say anything for a moment, I prompted, 'Melinda?'
'This sounds too crazy to even come from a crazy guy. Besides, the guy in the cafeteria looked like a loser, but not a crazy loser.'
'I don't know what to do.'
She paused. 'You know what I think this is?'
'What?'
'I think somebody's playing a practical joke on you. It's probably Chris's friends. They know that he asked you out and they're-' 'Trying to scare me to death?' I managed. 'You really think that's all this is?'
'Did he try to hurt you?'
I held the phone so tightly my fingers were numb. 'No.'
'And where is he now? Still outside?'
I pulled at the curtains and peeked out again. Michael was gone. I scanned what I could see of the dark street but saw nothing. 'I can't see him anymore.'
'Figures. Maybe Chris found out and called the guy off.'
The panic was quickly stepping to the side to make way for a seething annoyance. 'Well, I don't find it very funny.'
'They got me once. And trust me, it wasn't funny either, but they didn't mean any harm by it.' There was silence for a moment. 'But call the cops if you think it'll make you feel better. It would serve them right.'
I checked the driveway again. Nothing. Michael was gone. 'If he was still out there, I would, but now I'll just come off as a paranoid teenager.'
'You okay now?' 'I'm okay.'
'Good. Now forget about the crazy loser guy. You have to tell me everything that happened with you and Chris.' So I did.
I talked to her for ten minutes about the dance-and her date and what she was planning to wear-until I felt better. After I hung up the phone, I figured I'd get started on my studying.
I was so mad that I'd allowed myself to believe Michael's stupid joke. That jerk was probably laughing right now at how gullible I was.
Other dimensions. Sure.
I wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself without Melinda's help, as I shakily walked through the dark and silent house and up the staircase to my bedroom. Lining the walls were framed covers of my mom's romance novels. Being married and divorced multiple times hadn't done much to change the fact that she was a hopeless romantic and she loved to talk about-and write about-being in love. My father had never been part of those conversations, though.
My eyes narrowed at the thought of my father. If I did have the chance to someday meet the man who had left her alone, I'd have several choice things to say to him, none of which was, 'Nice to meet you, Daddy.'
Demon king.
I was sure he was a demon, all right. But of the purely human variety.
By this time, the envelope Michael had given me was all wrinkled up, and I threw it on my bed along with my backpack. My stomach was churning and I still had my headache.
I wondered what the point of the practical joke had been-other than just messing with me. I was supposed
