by C. L. Stone
“You can play Mozart.”
“Yeah, but,” he jabbed the knife at the door, trying to weaken it at a different angle, “I’m not creative like he was. I just play what’s on the page. People think it’s cute when you’re five. Now I’m just that guy with a music hobby. The only reason they like it now is because I can fill in concert halls. And that’s because the press liked to make a big deal about it while I was growing up.”
“And you’re smart,” I said, refusing to believe he was plain like he was suggesting. “With all those computer things...”
He shrugged, losing traction with his pulling and scraping his knife out. He angled his head, checking the hole he’d made. “I know a few tricks. Nothing anyone can’t learn. I didn’t figure it out myself. I just picked up on what other people did.”
Victor was being ridiculous. He was more than that. Didn’t he see it? “But you... you’re...” I wanted to offer more, but I didn’t know where to start and I was unsure of how to express it.
“Yeah, see?” He smirked, stopping his break-in to look up at me. “Can’t think of anything else? That’s why I’m here trying to bust into these things.” He tapped the open knife against the dial.
I twisted my lips, unhappy with what he thought of himself. I knelt next to him, reaching for the knife. “May I have that?”
His smirk held and he passed it to me. “You want to play?”
“You’re not just ... I mean you’re not just normal,” I said. I angled the knife into the door, wedging it like he’d done. I don’t know how he was doing it before, but I seemed to be only bending the metal. Partially. He was right. It was soft by the locks. “You’re better than that.”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re too sweet.”
“I mean it,” I said. I tried sawing at the lock, doing absolutely nothing to it. “How many hours did it take to learn how to play like you do?”
“Too many.”
“But you did it. And how long did it take you to learn those computer things?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He hovered behind me, and lowered his chin to rest on my shoulder while he watched what I was doing. “A couple of years.”
“And you stuck with it,” I said, trying not to be too distracted, but now his breath fell against my neck and collarbone. And I didn’t want to move to cause him to go away so I focused on trying to pry open the locker by wedging the knife into the lock slot. “Don’t you see? You made yourself more special than normal because you stuck with it. You’re dedicated. And now you’ve got a heap-load of skills on top of it.”
He inhaled deeply and held it. I thought maybe he was rolling his eyes or something and wasn’t going to answer.
His hand slowly glided around my waist. He held my hip.
His head dipped, and his lips met with my neck, close to my shoulder.
I froze instantly, merely hanging on to the knife now. My mind went blank. I had trouble remembering why we were crouched in the hallway in front of smelly lockers.
He kissed once more and kept his lips close to my skin as he spoke. “How’d you end up so beautiful?” he asked.
If I opened my mouth, I would have been babbling. My heart lit up and I turned my head, meeting his eyes.
A brilliant smolder.
I released the knife. It was stuck, anyway, because I’d wedged it in so far.
Victor’s face tilted forward. His nose grazed with mine and his eyes lowered, watching my mouth.
My lips parted in shock. The overwhelming sense of a kiss loomed between us. Here? Now? I wanted him to, but my heart was rattling, afraid we’d get caught.
He stopped short though, and with a painful wince, he backed his head away. The fire eyes locked on my face. “Sang... I... I mean, you and I... I want you to know–”
An echo of footsteps stole my attention. My eyes widened. Mr. Blackbourne was on his way back?
He seemed to understand my panicked look and backed away. I scrambled to get to where I was supposed to be. Victor raked his fingers through his hair, returning to the knife.
I was making my way to the intersection of the hallways. I was turning the corner and ran into someone.
“Sorry, Mr.–” I started to say, ready to make apologizes to Mr. Blackbourne as to why I wasn’t paying attention.
Hands met my hips, steadying me, and I was face to face with Wil.
My mouth fell open. I may have choked. “Wil?” I said it loud enough that I thought Victor would hear.
Wil’s face flushed red when recognition set in. His glasses were tilted on his face. He wore an old pair of jeans and a striped polo shirt which was a little worn at the collar. He held me for such a long moment; I imagined he was just as shocked as I was.
When the initial surprise faded, he released me, backing up a few steps. “God, sorry,” he said. “I... you...”
“No, no,” I said quickly, lifting my hands up and waving it off. “Sorry, I was...” There wasn’t an excuse I could come up with. I was in a secluded hallway and since it was in the middle of third period, it probably looked like I was skipping.
Why was he out here?
Wil rubbed his cheek absentmindedly and then fixed his glasses. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
He nodded and then studied my face. “Did you get lost?”
“Were you going somewhere?” I asked at the same time.
We both chuckled nervously and paused, for me, it was because I didn’t want to admit what I was up to.
And that told me he didn’t want to mention what he was doing, either.
“Are ... are you okay?” I asked, daring to be the one who started this conversation.
Wil twisted his lips to one side, staring at me. I supposed since we didn’t know each other that well, he was trying to figure out if he could confide in me.
“You don’t get to leave school in the middle of a class, do you?” I asked.
“Actually,” he said, his ears turning a brighter shade of red, “I was called in to the office.”
“Oh,” I said. That was a better reason for being out of class than what we were doing. But I got the impression Victor was out of sight behind me, because Wil was focused on me and didn’t seem to look anywhere else. “You’re in trouble?”
“No, someone else is.”
“Who?”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t know. I never know until I get down there. Mr. Hendricks–” He cut himself off and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Wait,” I said. “You mean Mr. Hendricks has you... He makes you go talk to him, too?”
Wil frowned, his face tightening. “Like you, yeah.”
I couldn’t believe it. What did he have Wil doing? “Who does he have you following?” I asked.
His eyebrows lifted. “He has you following people?”
Uh-oh. He wasn’t? I’d only guessed as much since that’s what he seemed to have other people doing, including me. Technically, I was supposed to be following anyone of interest on the Academy team. I fumbled, not wanting to reveal what I was doing and having to explain the Academy to anyone. “What does he have you do?”
He glanced up and down the hallway. “We shouldn’t talk here,” he said.
“Why?”
“Someone–” He stopped and shook his head, focusing on me. “Do you... I mean, don’t take this the wrong way. Or I... I wouldn’t ask but...”
“Wil?” I prodded carefully, trying to sound encouraging.
His eyes diverted to the floor. “If you can give me your phone number, I can call you,” he said, the redness in his cheeks rising.
My cheeks felt hot, too. “Of course,” I said, and then realized I didn’t know what my number was. It got changed not too long ago.
He lifted his head meeting my eyes again with the start of a smile. “You would?”
I didn’t understand his question. Why would I have a problem with it? I used to not be able to give
out my phone number, but if he needed someone to talk to about Mr. Hendricks, and I certainly wanted to know more about what Mr. Hendricks was up to, wouldn’t befriending a few of the people in on this help out?
I grunted internally when I realized my phone was in my bra. I glanced at his chest to avoid his eyes while I took out my phone. Staring hard at the screen to avoid what he might have thought of me keeping it there, I started tapping at the surface of the phone to figure out how to find out what my number is. “I... don’t use this too much,” I said as an excuse for my fumbling.
Wil parted his lips to say something, stopped and then held out a hand. “May I help?” he asked.
I only hesitated because I was worried he might see some Academy things on there, but we hadn’t talked about the Academy in text messages because of the new security precautions. Where was Victor? Was he hiding? He’d say something if this was a bad idea.
I passed my phone over.
Wil held it with two hands and started tapping with his thumb. “I’m putting my phone number in,” he said. “When you get a chance ... I mean if you want to.”
“Okay,” I said.
He passed the phone back, showing me his name in the contacts. Wil Winchester. At the bottom of all the other boys, including Dr. Green and Mr. Blackbourne.
My cheeks must have illuminated then. I only had boy numbers. I don’t know why, but it seemed embarrassing. “Thank you,” I said quietly.
“I should go,” he said, and he started to walk around me and then stopped. Keeping his back to me, he spoke again, “Sang,” he said.
“Yes?”
“If you’re breaking into lockers,” he said, “you only need to smack the dial up and pull at the same time.”
My mouth fell open. “I... I mean...” I couldn’t think of an excuse and my whole body was on fire with embarrassment. He knew?
“They were made in the sixties,” he said, finally turning and meeting my face. “Never been replaced and not that secure. But don’t get caught.”
“I didn’t...” I didn’t want him to think I was stealing. “I was just trying to find out...”
“It’s okay,” he said. There was a small smile on the corner of his mouth. “If you were going to actually steal stuff, I wouldn’t think you’d start in this hallway. No one uses these. Except the drug heads.” He waved shortly and walked away.
My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. I kept my eyes on him until he disappeared down another hall.
Victor materialized beside me. “You trust him?”
“Did you hear?” I asked, still staring at the last spot I saw Wil before he turned the corner. “Do you not trust him?”
“He knew how to break into lockers,” he said. He went to one, staring at the knob. He did a quick shove upward at the lock and yanked at the handle at the same time. Metal against metal scraped together but the door swung open. Quick and painless. “There’s been some locker break-ins recently.”
“In the gym lockers, mostly,” I reminded him. “And those are different.”
“But I bet if he knows how to break into these, he knows how to break into those.”
“He wouldn’t steal,” I said.
Victor stared at me for a moment.
“What?” I asked.
He sighed and shook his head, going back to the locker where I’d shoved the knife in so far that it was stuck. He grabbed the handle, yanking and had to dig his foot into the door and pull to get it to come back out. “Maybe we’ve been at this school for too long,” he said. “I just don’t trust anyone.”
UPROAR
Before the final bell rang, Mr. Blackbourne returned. He said he’d walked around hallways and shortly met up with Mr. Hendricks not too far from where he last saw us. He had to divert him and then go the long way around to meet back up with us.
We let him know about the fragility of the lockers and about Wil.
“Call him,” Mr. Blackbourne said to me. “We could use a few more allies. Let’s find out if he is one.”
I retrieved my book bag from the music room and Victor and I went to history class.
I sat between Victor and North. Mr. Morris collected homework, told us to read a chapter out of the book quietly and answer the questions. When he was done addressing us, he fell into his chair behind his desk. His eyelids drooped. I wondered how late he had been watching Kota. Did he notice Kota going to Nathan’s house, and had he witnessed his father returning? Would this be interesting to Mr. Hendricks?
Victor turned to me discreetly, catching my eyes. He was quietly asking if I was okay. I wondered why he was asking, but maybe he was just checking in. I nodded, and focused on the class work.
Ten minutes later, there was whispering in the corner. I ignored it, assuming someone had a question and was quietly trying to ask someone else for help. Or maybe they were passing notes again. They didn’t normally talk too loud at all. Mr. Morris wanted a quiet classroom.
Movement caught my attention and I glanced up. A girl across the room stood up sharply, squaring off with the boy who was sitting behind her. “Keep your hands off me,” she said.
The boy was wearing an orange jersey, a football player. The guy’s cheeks reddened, but he grinned and reached out, as if trying to grab at her butt. She stepped back.
A boy in the next row over stood. “If she’s saying don’t touch her, stop,” he said.
Mr. Morris stood up. “Everyone needs to keep their hands to themselves,” he shouted at them. “Sit down. John, keep to yourself. I mean it.”
“Not doing anything,” John replied and stared blankly at his desk. His cheeks were red. I’d just witnessed him reaching for her, so I knew he was lying. His book was open to the wrong chapter and he didn’t have a notebook out.
I glanced quickly at Victor, and then to North, but they were both intent on John and the girl, along with everyone else in class.
The girl glared at John, and she started to return to her desk, but the moment she wedged into her seat, John had his hands on her back, reaching forward for her chest. The girl recoiled, standing again and pulling away.
The guy who had stood up before was over the desks in a flash, as were two others who were sitting nearby. They converged on John, pulling him out of his chair as he struggled to resist.
Mr. Morris flew across the room. “Everyone, back up!”
North had stood up, but only watched. Victor remained seated, but his hand was under the desk, holding his cell phone and tapping at it with his thumb. I wondered if he was sending a text or sending a warning through the button on the phone. Maybe he was sending a note to Mr. Blackbourne, updating him about a fight.
The group pulled John down to the floor. “Stop touching girls,” one of them said, pointing a finger at his face.
John was on the floor, his arms covering his stomach. His eyes were wild. I’d never paid attention to the guy before. He was normally so quiet. He never said anything to North in class even though they were on the same team.
John cowered from the others. “Stay away from me,” he cried out, as if they were still hitting him. Mr. Morris put a hand on his arm, trying to assist him up but John wrestled his arm free. “Stop.” He kicked out wildly at Mr. Morris, but was uncoordinated and none of his blows landed.
“John,” Mr. Morris bellowed at him. “Stand up and get in your chair and don’t touch anyone or I’m going to carry you out of here.”
John cursed and kicked out again. “This is all shit,” he yelled at him. “I didn’t touch her.”
Mr. Morris frowned. He snapped at the two guys standing by. “Help me out, here.”
The other students obeyed, each one grabbing an arm. Mr. Morris snagged up John’s leg. John fought, but his limbs seemed to be loose, too out of control.
“Everyone, in your seats,” Mr. Morris shouted at us. “No one leaves until the bell rings, and no one do anything else stupid while I’m gone.” Mr. Morris flashed me a look. I thought I understood he wanted me to moni
tor the class and let him know if anyone acted up while he was gone. I knew his phone number and could contact him if needed.
They were out the door and gone before I had a chance to even nod to him that I would.
I settled back into my chair. At first, the others remained still, stunned by what had happened. After a moment, one of them stood up and went to the window, watching Mr. Morris and the other students dragging John along the sidewalk toward the main building. Other students started talking, but no one was willing to leave early. They didn’t return to work but everyone wanted to talk about what happened.
Victor turned, looking around me toward North. “What was his problem?” he asked.
North’s face tightened. “I think he was high.”
“More of that stuff going around?” Victor asked. “The one Mr. Blackbourne...”
North pressed his fingers to his lips. He didn’t want to talk about it here. He reached out, catching my chin, looking me square in the face. “Don’t trust anything anyone else gives you.”
“No problem,” I said. My heart was pounding. I glanced back at the girl who had been fighting off John before. She seemed to be okay. She was talking adamantly about how she’d never paid any attention to John before. He’d been quiet and he always sat behind her and she never noticed him. She didn’t know what he was doing. She said she wanted to switch seats with another of the guys.
No one else mentioned drugs, JH14, or any other possibilities. Did they know and weren’t saying anything?
♥♥♥
After class, Victor, North and I took a shortcut through the cafeteria on our way to the courtyard. North walked ahead of me, Victor behind me. After the scuffle in class, they were on full alert. North weaved a path around crowded tables.
A hooting sounded. I focused on North, trying to ignore it, but he stopped and scanned the perimeter, looking for the source.
“Hey North,” Rocky called, waving a hand in the air. His brown hair was hanging into his eyes, making his handsome face look a little more rugged. “Why don’t you and Silas come sit with us?”
