London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “I’m in disguise,” he whispers back, his eyes scanning across me, Noah, and Harry. “This was supposed to be a secret operation.”

  “I didn’t get the memo that we weren’t supposed to wear our uniforms,” Harry says, looking down at himself.

  I roll my eyes at both of them.

  “Why are you in the bushes?” Noah asks.

  He bites at his lip, and I can tell he’s trying to keep from laughing.

  I look at Mohammad in question.

  “Is no one else taking this seriously?” he huffs.

  “Wait,” Harry says, looking intrigued. “What have you found out?”

  Harry hunches down next to Mohammad, taking the binoculars from his hand.

  “Get down,” Mohammad urges, looking up at Noah and me.

  His gaze is intense, and I can tell he’s serious. I start to hunch down, but Mohammad doesn’t give me a chance, pulling me down so all four of us are huddled between a bush and the brick wall of the school.

  “Whose classroom is that?” I ask, watching Mohammad’s eyes shift toward the window.

  We all move toward it, peeking into the classroom.

  “Miss Gunters’s,” Mohammad answers.

  “Shit, it is,” Harry confirms excitedly. He brings the binoculars up to his eyes, looking into the classroom with them.

  “You don’t need those for close distances,” Noah says, glancing at Harry.

  “Shh,” Mohammad interjects.

  “Mohammad, the classroom is empty,” I say.

  There are five rows of desks in perfectly straight lines leading up to the front of the room. There isn’t really anything special to look at, but I scan the classroom a few times, making sure I haven’t missed anything.

  “Not right now.” Mohammad rolls his eyes. “But who knows what could happen? Someone could come through that door at any second.”

  “That’s pretty unlikely,” Noah disagrees.

  I turn toward Harry, who grins back at me and then looks through the window with Mohammad’s binoculars.

  “Tell me you haven’t spent this entire time looking into an empty classroom,” I say.

  “Have you discovered anything?” Noah asks, echoing my thoughts.

  “Well, for starters, our professors lead pretty boring lives,” Mohammad whispers.

  “You had to spy to figure that out?” Harry asks, unimpressed.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask.

  Because our teachers are, for the most part, pretty nice. If you exclude the fact that they give us homework, make us study for tests, and partner us up with people we don’t know.

  “Well, I also took a peek into the staff’s common room. There was literally nothing in it but stale air and the palpable sadness of being a secondary school professor.”

  “Mohammad!” I scold.

  “What?” he replies. “I just imagined our professors sitting there, looking all pathetic and sad. I sort of feel bad for them.”

  “Stay on track,” Noah commands, a grin on his face now.

  “After I didn’t find anything there, I tried to get into Mr. Johnson’s room since he’s who we wanted to spy on. It was locked, unfortunately.”

  Harry lets out a moan.

  “But,” Mohammad continues, “when I came around the side of the building to peek into his room, I saw Miss Gunters going into the school.”

  “And that’s your big news? That you saw Harry’s professor?” Noah asks.

  “Wait, we were in the courtyard,” I say, taking a sip of coffee. “Why didn’t we see her go in then?”

  “No. Let me finish,” Mohammad interjects, but he is quickly distracted. “Hey, who brought the coffee?”

  “Get back to the point,” Harry tells him.

  “Once my question is answered, I will,” Mohammad replies, looking offended.

  “I got Mallory one at the bagel shop,” Noah finally says.

  Mohammad sticks out his bottom lip. “And no one thought to get me a cup?”

  “Mohammad—” Harry warns.

  “My intention with the coffee wasn’t that admirable. I just figured I was better off getting Mallory a cup, so that way, she isn’t a complete terror in Statistics. You’ve all witnessed when she’s grumpy,” Noah says.

  “Hey,” I scold. “I take offense to that.”

  “Shit. You have a point,” Mohammad agrees. But he still looks a little sad.

  “You know I can hear you,” I say, my nostrils flaring.

  But then Harry’s behind me, massaging my shoulders. His fingers work through my tense muscles, and I relax under his hands.

  “They kind of do have a point,” Harry whispers at my ear, agreeing with them.

  I whip my head around and glare at him for taking their side.

  “I don’t want to sit here and argue about coffee and being grumpy,” I say, frustrated. “Noah wasn’t so charming this morning either.”

  “It was early …” Noah defends.

  “You guys weren’t even the first ones here,” Harry corrects, his blue eyes on me now.

  “Actually, I was,” Mohammad interjects.

  “What are we even arguing about? This was supposed to be a bonding moment,” I say, trying to pull us back together.

  “You can’t force people to bond,” Harry replies.

  And I instantly want to punch him.

  Because seriously!

  I was doing this for him. For him and his friends. Well, our friends. But still.

  “What is going on here?” a woman’s voice says from behind us.

  All four of us freeze simultaneously.

  I think I’m the first one to have the courage to turn around. And when I do, I find Ms. Adams staring at us.

  I give her my best I promise we’re innocent smile.

  The boys all finally turn around, making eye contact with her. Ms. Adams’s forehead creases as she waits for an answer.

  “Uh … it’s just our morning book club. Our nature morning book club,” Mohammad fibs.

  “Your nature morning book club?” she repeats, looking at us like we’re lunatics.

  “Exactly. See, nature,” Harry adds, looking around us.

  “You’re hiding behind a bush,” Ms. Adams replies, unamused.

  “Well, you could argue that it’s the only nature in the city,” Mohammad fumbles.

  And I instantly want to slap my forehead and tell him to just stop talking.

  Because if he continues down this crazy story path, we’re never going to be able to talk our way out of this.

  “And your book?” she questions.

  We all look down at our empty hands, but a second later, Harry is digging through his backpack.

  He looks back up at us with a slight blush on his face and shrugs. “Apparently, I forgot it.”

  “You’re holding a nature book club with no nature and no book,” she states.

  “Have we done something wrong?” Noah finally cuts in.

  “Besides being suspicious, I suppose not.”

  Noah nods, agreeing with her.

  I glance over at Mohammad and Harry, who stay silent. Which is actually a surprise because, normally, in situations like this, they can never keep their mouths shut.

  “Right. Out from the bushes then,” Ms. Adams says, motioning with her hand. “I want no mischief from the four of you today, am I clear?”

  “Yes,” I say, nodding my head as Harry, Mohammad, and Noah all do the same.

  “Now, get to the common room,” Ms. Adams says, pointing at us.

  We all nod, stepping through the bushes until we are in the grass.

  “That was close,” I whisper as we get back onto the sidewalk.

  Ms. Adams is following behind us as we make our way through the courtyard and into school.

  When we finally get into the common room and sit down, Ms. Adams looks appeased and walks off toward her office.

  “That was a close one,” Mohammad says, letting out a long exhale as he leans b
ack against the sofa.

  I look around, taking in the common room. It’s my first time hanging out in it, and I can’t help but wonder why.

  Because it’s cozy.

  There are couches with coffee tables between them. A few long tables for studying.

  There’s even one full wall of books with a sign reading, Borrow. Read. Return. Grow. Apparently, it’s one of those honor-code libraries where you give a book to take a book.

  “Also, about that whole bonding thing, we’re already bonded, Miss America. We’re the boys’ club. And I’m including you in that, by the way,” Mohammad clarifies. “And there’s no breaking up the boys’ club.”

  Noah glances up at Mohammad, his lips pulling into a half-smile.

  “Good,” I say, already feeling better as Mohammad gives me a quick hug.

  “Mohammad,” Harry says, frustrated, shifting on the couch next to Noah, “get back to your point. I’m dying here. What did you find out about Miss Gunters?”

  “Why do you even care?” I say, my mood quickly turning.

  Because this thing he has for his teacher … it’s a little weird.

  And he just ruined a moment that he could have easily been a part of. I huff, trying not to growl at him.

  “Well, you were wrong when you thought that she had a thing for younger men,” Mohammad finally answers.

  Noah and I both look at one another, intrigued.

  Harry looks immediately insulted. “I didn’t say she had a thing for younger men. I said she had a thing for me.”

  “Well, that might make this news even worse,” Mohammad continues, his eyebrows dipping in.

  And it grabs my attention. I turn toward him, wondering what exactly he saw.

  “What?” Harry says.

  “Apparently, she has a thing for you then and …” he says as we all lean in closer.

  “And?” Harry demands, literally sitting on the edge of his seat.

  “Mr. Pritchard,” Mohammad finally states.

  “Noooo,” I breathe out, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth.

  “Our geography professor?” Harry makes a sour face.

  “Oh shit,” Noah replies, almost looking distraught.

  “What exactly did you see?” Harry pushes.

  “Let’s just say, I saw him get a little … handsy with her … bum,” Mohammad says.

  “Oh God,” Harry interrupts.

  “And she was totally into it,” Mohammad finishes.

  “I’m scarred. I’m scarred for life,” Harry says, dumbfounded.

  “I figured you’d find this whole thing hilarious.” Noah laughs, turning to look to Harry.

  “I’m not sure how I’m feeling …” Harry replies, his voice catching. “For some reason, it feels like I’ve been cheated on. I mean, I’d swear she was into me.”

  “Don’t take it personally,” Mohammad says. “I’m sure she would have chosen you if she thought you were a suitable option.”

  “Thanks, mate,” Harry replies, nodding his head. But he still looks confused.

  I narrow my eyes in at him. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

  “I think he’s in shock,” Noah says with a smirk.

  “I think he needs to realize that the girl he likes is sitting across from him and doesn’t want to hear about how devastated he is that his teacher isn’t into him.”

  “Are you talking about us in third person?” Harry asks, his blue eyes coming up to meet mine.

  “Well, if you weren’t being such a baby, maybe I could talk to you in first person.”

  “Someone’s feeling feisty this morning,” Mohammad comments. “I like it.”

  “Can we please just eat now?” Noah interrupts, setting the bag of bagels down onto the coffee table.

  “Oh man,” Mohammad says, peeking into the bag, “I’m starving.”

  “Wait a second,” I say, taking a bag out of my backpack. “I also stopped and got us juice.”

  Mohammad wrinkles his nose at me, glaring at the bottle. “I’m not sure about the juice, but I’m definitely going to destroy one of these bagels.”

  I pull out the rest of the juice and set it on the coffee table, doing my best not to pout.

  “You’re upset,” Noah comments.

  “I just thought we would all have bagels and juice together,” I mumble.

  “Which means we should all probably just suck one down and get it over with,” Mohammad says, bumping his shoulder into mine, causing me to smile.

  “I’m not asking that you like it. I’m just asking that you give it a wholehearted chance.”

  “Fine,” Mohammad says as I hand out juice.

  Harry still looks distraught over the whole Miss Gunters not being into him thing, so I slide his juice in front of him, leaving it on the coffee table instead. I grab a bagel, watching as Mohammad takes his first sip.

  “How is it?” I ask excitedly.

  “It’s healthy,” Mohammad replies.

  “It’s delicious,” I correct, taking a drink of mine.

  “It’s orange,” Mohammad says, examining the bottle.

  “At least it’s not green,” I comment back. “Yours is carrot.”

  “Anything with this much color can’t be good for you,” Harry says, picking up his juice and inspecting it.

  I watch Noah next to him, silently sipping his juice, looking content.

  “Haven’t you heard the saying, Eat the rainbow?” I ask.

  “I wouldn’t trust that. Everything I like is brown. Crisps, sausage, potatoes, roasts,” he says, shooting me a wink.

  “That’s not the most widespread palate,” I say, trying not to look disgusted at his food choices.

  And to think, he’s able to eat all of that and still look good? It kind of boggles my mind.

  “Well, it’s not as bad as I thought,” Mohammad interrupts, downing his juice and taking a large bite of his bagel.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” I smile, feeling pleased with myself.

  “But I have to say, these bagels,” Mohammad says while chewing, “freaking phenomenal.” As he talks, a few crumbs fall down onto his shirt. I brush them away with my hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Do you like yours?” Noah asks as I take a bite, looking across the coffee table at me.

  “Mmhmm,” I say, finishing chewing. “They are so good. The honey and strawberries …” I start to say, but then I notice Harry isn’t eating.

  He only takes a small sip of juice.

  “Not hungry?” Noah asks, following my gaze.

  Harry shrugs. “All I can remember when I smell these bagels is being hungover at your house Saturday morning.”

  I instantly look up at Noah, feeling terrible for not thinking about it.

  “Shit,” I mumble, my blood going cold.

  Noah looks back at me, his face flashing with surprise.

  “That’s my fault, man.” Noah gives Harry’s leg a firm pat.

  I chew on my lip, not sure what to say. Part of me wants to say something, but the other part of me thinks I should just keep my mouth shut.

  “Relax. I’m not some psych case who can’t eat a bagel. I’m just not a breakfast person.”

  I nod my head, trying to convince myself that he’s telling the truth.

  “No one said you were,” I respond, wanting him to know that we don’t think that.

  “Well”—Mohammad shrugs, grabbing the bagel off the paper bag in front of Harry—“if you’re not going to eat it,” he says, taking a bite.

  My mouth falls at his insensitivity.

  We all watch him chew, and when I look across to Noah and Harry, Noah’s rolling his eyes. But Harry just laughs, his nose wrinkling up.

  When his gaze connects with mine, he doesn’t look upset. But it doesn’t make me feel any better about things. I set my bagel down, feeling a little sick to my stomach.

  “Finish your food,” Harry says to me, his blue eyes becoming intense.

 
I shake my head. “I’m done. I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Please,” Harry says, looking almost desperate.

  I pick up the bagel, take another bite for him, and try to keep it down.

  I’m asking you.

  Statistics

  “I didn’t think you were so … daring,” Noah says, sliding into his seat in Statistics as the bell goes off.

  We were almost late, all four of us forgetting to watch the clock as we ate our breakfast in the common room.

  “Daring?” I ask, pulling out my notebook and setting it on my desk.

  “Mmhmm. You’re always surprising me.” Noah grins.

  “See, I knew you had fun this morning.”

  “I’m not sure if you could call getting caught snooping fun,” he corrects.

  “Your smile gives you away though.”

  His cheeks are flush, and his eyes are shining.

  “It was a morning I wouldn’t have wanted to miss,” he admits.

  “Does that mean you’re not mad I woke you up early?”

  “And didn’t let me run,” he adds but shakes his head. “I’m not mad.”

  “It did feel like a strange morning.” I push a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m so used to waking up, running, or having coffee and then getting a juice or something and coming straight to class.”

  Noah nods as Mr. Johnson comes into the room. I look up, watching as he walks into class, happy as usual.

  I let out a sigh at the sight.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say, turning back toward Noah. He gives me a nod, so I continue, “I’m feeling a little weird about Harry. The whole smoking a cigarette this morning and the no bagel thing.”

  Noah purses his lips, his brown eyes shifting. “You’ve seen Harry smoke.”

  “Yeah, but he’s usually drinking too. Or it’s after school at his house or out at the club. Not first thing in the morning. And not alone.”

  “It’s not that unusual,” he says, glancing up at me, trying to help me understand. “Look, Harry’s just going through a transition.”

  “But he never mentioned on our date that he didn’t tell his mom he was going out.”

  “He probably didn’t even know he was supposed to tell her,” Noah says. “And if you want an answer, I think you should ask him.”

  “I know that. But I’m asking you.”

  Noah lets out a heavy sigh and then brings his legs out into the aisle, turning fully toward me. “Harry isn’t used to this,” he says.