I was angry.

It was an emotion I didn't feel too often and therefore didn't know how to adequately control. It bled out too easily on my face, hissing out of my pores and lingering in the air like a dark cloud. I could tell that my mom and dad and Mallory knew something was wrong, but no one addressed it directly at dinner. In fact, the conversations around the table were light and mundane, almost incredibly so. I think they were trying to distract me from my thoughts and snap me out of the feeling.

But I couldn't shake the anger. I worked on homework. I watched television. I even tried to call Taylor, but she didn't pick up, which only angered me more. When I eventually climbed into bed, the anger came with me, molding around my body like a cold sheet.

I stared at the ceiling, Lana's sharp jabs echoing through my head on an endless loop.

Why did I agree to this deal? I wondered.

I knew who Lana was; she had been very upfront with me on that point. This wasn't a silly agreement among friends; this was a deal with the most famous fallen angel in history. In the grand scheme of things, this was a business transaction, nothing more.

And yet her anger towards me had hurt more than expected.

You're too trusting, I thought, rolling over in bed. Because I knew why I was upset. Over the past week, Lana had opened up to me, told me her story, and had somehow become a friend. I wanted to believe that she was a victim of circumstance with a deep loneliness that I could help fill. I wanted to believe that despite everything, she was capable of change and deserved one night out at a dance with a boy.

And yet when she had opened her mouth and snarled at me like a stray dog, everything shattered. She wasn't misunderstood; she had just gotten better at hiding who she truly was. I'd been played.

So anger it was... although, beneath the anger, a stream of hurt was churning, and that I couldn't shake, despite my desperate tossings and turnings in bed.

Around 3am, I was woken up by a tapping sound at my window.

I climbed out of bed, groggy but awake, and looked out the window. Lana was standing on the front lawn, waving her hand meekly.

I rolled my eyes and climbed back into bed. I was not about to deal with this, not right now. I closed my eyes and willed myself to fall back asleep.

But after a minute or so, the tapping resumed. She was throwing pebbles at the window.

Oh my God, I thought irritably, climbing back out of bed. This time I opened the window; the cold air hit my face with a blast.

"Stop it," I said to her, trying to keep my voice low enough to not wake up my family.

"Can you let me in?" she asked.

"No. Go away."

"But Jessa—"

"Go away," I repeated, shutting the window and crawling back into bed.

This time, the tapping didn't resume, and I figured Lana had gone off. However, just as I was falling back asleep, there was a knock on my bedroom door. And before I could even register the sound, Lana had walked in.

"Lana!" I hissed, jolting upright and holding the comforter to my chest. "How the hell did you get into my house?"

She frowned. "I used a little bit of magic to open your front door."

This just made me angrier. "Wonderful. Using your power to break into my room. Really sounds like you're helping a human here."

"I didn't want to use my power, but you wouldn't let me in and I couldn't sleep."

"That sounds like a personal problem," I said, lying back down into bed and turning away from her. "Next time, buy some melatonin."

"Jessa, please. Can we talk?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"About what happened earlier today. I wanted to clarify—"

"I think you were very clear," I said. "You think I'm incompetent, and I think you're a bad person. That's fine. I'm done." I rolled over to look her straight in the eye. "The deal is off."

Lana's face, which was always so perfectly poised, fell suddenly, twisting into one of surprise. "Wait—what?"

"The deal is off," I said. "I don't care about gold or fame or whatever prize I was going to get at the end of this. The reason I was doing this was to help you, because, for some unknown reason, I thought we were friends. But it became abundantly clear today that you only care about yourself. You liked making Valerie sick. You thought it was okay to mess with Sam when she annoyed you. And when we had one small hiccup in the plan today, you immediately blamed me, the one person in the history of the universe who wanted to help you, not because of some prize, but out of the goodness of my heart." I shook my head. "I'm not putting up being treated like this. So the deal is off. Go find someone else to help you."

"But Jessa," Lana started, taking a step forward. "This deal means a lot to me. Please don't do this." She splayed out her arms. "I can give you whatever you want—"

"What I want is for you to go away."

"Jessa—"

"Get out of my house and go to back Hell."

Lana opened her mouth one last time, but no words came out. Instead, her arms fell to her sides, limply, and for a moment she just rubbed her hands on her pajamas. Even in the dim lighting of my room, I could see that her eyes were glassy. "Okay," she finally murmured. "Okay." And with that, she left.

I had hoped Lana would be gone the next day, but unfortunately, she hadn't taken my go to Hell literally. She was still on Earth, sitting at her desk in homeroom. She opened her mouth as I walked past, a hopeful look in her eyes, but I staunchly ignored her and walked over to Taylor.

"Hey," I mumbled.

Taylor frowned at me. "You look awful. You okay?"

"No," I said, keeping my voice low. "Lana is really pissing me off. We got into a fight last night and I tried to call you about it but you didn't pick up. Were you out with Clarissa?" I could hear the biting tone of my voice, but Taylor didn't bite back.

"Actually," she said, "I was down in the basement by myself. Painting. I was working on a new piece for my art portfolio. I'm sorry I missed your call."

Immediately I felt like a jerk for snapping at her. "Sorry," I apologized. I cast a glance back at Lana, who was still looking at me. "I'm a mess right now and I don't want to be around her."

"That's gonna be a bit hard since she's literally in every class with you," Taylor murmured, looking thoughtful. "But I can give you a one period escape: come with me to the art studio at lunch?"

Relief flooded my body. "You could have invited me to go dumpster diving with you and I would have said yes," I said with a smile. "The art studio sounds great."

By the end of first period, I think Lana got the hint. She stopped trying to speak to me, and instead kept to herself. Her little black book made a reappearance; she rifled through it during class. Her face was blank as she stared at her scribblings, like a chalkboard wiped of all markings. I wondered what she was reading, what weird scheme she was plotting in her head.

Well I'm not falling for her tricks this time, I thought. And soon, she'll be gone.

After calculus, I watched as Lana drifted off towards the cafeteria, a new spring to her step. Her heels clicked loudly on the linoleum. But before I could follow her any longer with my eyes, Taylor jumped up beside me and looped her arm through mine. "Your distraction is here!" she said, and before I could say anything else, she was escorting me the opposite direction down the hallway.

The art studio was located in the "old building," where the walls were made of crumbling brick and the air always smelled like floor cleaner. The classroom itself was dark and empty, filled with tall shadows, but Taylor walked into the room like she owned the place. She flipped on some light switches and shut the door behind us. Now that the room was lit, the tall shadows turned out to be easels with canvases and carts filled with paints and well-worn brushes.

"I haven't been in here since freshman year art," I said. The air smelled of clay and acrylics, and brought with it a childhood nostalgia I couldn't quite place.

"Well I was just here this morning," Taylor said, picking up a canvas from the floor. "Dropping off this."

She held the canvas up for me, letting me see it in all its glory. It was an image of a woman's face, turned at an angle, almost a profile. It was in black and white and far from being done, yet the eyes looked so alive.

"Is that a self portrait?" I said, looking up at Taylor's matching eyes.

She nodded. "It's not done yet and it needs a lot of work. But I haven't done a portrait in a while, and I wanted to do something personal for my portfolio. So this is what I came up with. It's actually based off this photo." She pulled out her phone and swiped for a moment until she flashed me an image. "Clarissa took this of me. After the lacrosse game. The lighting was just perfect and..." She blushed. "It made me feel really pretty."

"You are really pretty," I said. Then, wondering if that sounded awkward coming from a friend, added, "It's a great photo."

Taylor smiled. "Thank you... But enough about me. What is going on with you and Lana?"

I rolled my eyes. "We just got into a fight after Sam's. She felt like I wasn't doing enough to help her with Billy, and she got really nasty and... I don't want to deal with her anymore. So I'm not going to. And she's leaving after Friday so—"

"Wait—she's leaving?"

"Er..." I said, realizing I had dug myself a hole. "Yeah. She's moving. She didn't want to tell anyone, so she's kept it quiet," I made up quickly. "But anyway, it's fine. Once she leaves I'll finally have some space and this all will be over."

"I thought you guys were pretty close, though?" Taylor said. "I mean, do you really want to throw away a whole friendship over one fight?"

I hesitated. "I just... don't think she's a good person. I think it's better if we parted ways."

"Okay," Taylor said. "If that's how you feel, that's how you feel." She sat down on a stool. "What do you think she's gonna do about Billy now? Do you think she's still going to go to the dance?"

"I don't know, and honestly, I don't care. I'm just done with this all."

"Are you still going to the dance?"

I laughed. "Taylor, this is like, twenty questions!"

"I'm just wondering!" Taylor said. "I'm going. There's no way I'm passing up a good dancing opportunity. And I want my best friend to be there with me." She looked at me pointedly.

I smiled. "Fine. I'll be there for you." Then, an intrusive thought popped into my head. "Are you going to invite Clarissa?"

"I was thinking about it," Taylor admitted.

I couldn't help but feel that small bubble of jealousy and the stirring of loneliness in my gut. I think Taylor could see it in my eyes, because she asked, "Do you think that's a bad idea?"

"No... I mean, kind of. I mean..." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Taylor, I should be honest. I think I'm a little jealous of you and Clarissa."

Taylor looked shocked. "What?"

I pointed at her self-portrait. "You found someone who likes you and who you like back and you're happy and excited and I'm just... here. Like, always alone Jessa."

"Is there someone you're interested in?" Taylor asked. "I'm happy to act as wingwoman so you can get a little action at the dance."

"That's the thing. I don't think I'm interested in anyone right now..." Alex passed through my thoughts fleetingly, but I shook my head, thinking about Valerie and knowing that was a fantasy. "But I wish I did. Which is a silly thing to be upset about."

"It's not silly," Taylor said. "Last week, I would have killed for anyone to be interested in me—well, any girl, that is—because it seemed so impossible at the time. This girlfriend thing is all new to me. I know what it's like to be lonely."

"Yeah, I guess." I shook my head. "I'll be fine. I don't need to go with someone to the dance—as long as Clarissa doesn't steal you all night. You know you're my number one dancing buddy."

"Don't worry," she said with a wink. "I'll save you a few dances."