“Who?” J.D. asks.
“Masen Laurent.” Ten gestures to the new kid behind us. “He just started today.”
“I wonder how he’s getting in at night,” Lyla says in a low voice.
I drop my pencil to the table and raise my eyes, looking at her pointedly. “Don’t say ‘he’ like you know it’s him doing the vandalism. We don’t know that. And besides, he just started today. The vandalism has been going on for over a month.”
I don’t want him taking the fall for something I know he’s not doing.
“Fine,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and picking at her shaker salad. “I wonder how ‘the guy’ is getting in at night then?”
“Well, I have an idea,” Ten offers. “I don’t think he leaves the school, actually. The one doing the vandalism, I mean. I think he stays in the school overnight.”
J.D. bites into his hamburger again. “Why would he do that?”
“Because how else would you get around the alarms?” Ten argues. “Think about it. The school’s open late—swim lessons at the pool, the GED class, the teams using the weight room, tutoring… He can leave after school, eat and do whatever, and make it back before the doors are locked around nine. And then he’s got all night. Maybe he even lives here. The attacks are happening nearly every day now, after all.”
I finish my final equation, my pencil digging slowly into the paper. It’s a good point. How else would someone get around the alarms, unless they hide out and wait for the doors to be locked?
Or unless they have keys and the alarm code.
“There are no homeless kids at this school,” I point out. “I think we would know.”
It’s not a huge high school, after all.
“Well, like you said,” Lyla shoots back. “He just arrived, so we don’t know anything about him yet.” I see her look over my head, and I know exactly whom she’s watching. “He could’ve been here for the last month before starting school and no one would’ve known it.”
“So peg the dirty new kid with no friends?” I retort. “What possible reason would he have for vandalizing the school? Oh, wait. I forgot. I don’t care.”
And I lean over my assignment, filling out the header, continuing, “Masen Laurent is not living in the school. He’s not vandalizing the walls, the lockers, or anything else. He’s new, you’re scheming, and I’m bored with this conversation.”
“We can get it out of him,” Trey chimes in. “I can sneak into my stepmom’s office and check his file. See where he lives.”
“Hell yeah,” J.D. agrees.
The sinister tone to their voices unnerves me. Trey gets away with everything, especially since the principal is his stepmother.
I close my book and notebook, piling them on top of each other. “And how would that be any fun for me?”
Trey smiles. “What did you have in mind? Name it.”
I rest my forearms on the table and turn my head over my shoulder, watching Masen Laurent. His stoic expression is confusing. As if everyone around him doesn’t exist.
They bustle about, passing by him, their voices carrying across his table, laughter to his left and a dropped tray to his right, but a bubble surrounds him. Life carries on outside of it, but nothing breaches it.
But I feel, even though he responds to nothing going on around him, he’s aware of it. He’s aware of everything, and a chill runs down my arms.
Turning back to Trey, I take a deep breath, shaking it off. “Do you trust me?”
“No, but I’ll give you a long leash.”
J.D. laughs, and I rise from the table, pushing back my chair.
“Where are you going?” Lyla asks.
I spin around and walk for Masen, answering over my shoulder, “I want to hear him talk.”
I head over to his table, a small round four-seater on the outside of the room, and rest my ass on the edge, gripping the table with my hands at my sides.
The boy’s eyes catch my thighs and slowly rise up my body, resting on my face.
I can hear the beat of drums and guitar pounding out of his earbuds, but he just sits there, the indents between his eyebrows growing deeper.
Reaching over, I gently tug out his earbuds and cast a look over my shoulder at my friends, all of them watching us.
“They think you’re homeless,” I tell him, turning back and seeing his eyes drift from them up to me. “But you’re not eating, and you don’t speak. I think you’re a ghost.”
I give him a mischievous smile and drop the earbuds, placing my hand over his heart. His warmth immediately courses through my hand, making my stomach flip a little. “Nope, scratch that,” I add, pushing forward. “I feel a heartbeat. And it’s getting faster.”
Masen just watches me, as if waiting for something. Maybe he wants me to disappear, but he hasn’t pushed me away yet.
I take my hand off his chest and lean back again. “I remember you, you know? You were at the scavenger hunt in February. At the warehouse in Thunder Bay.”
He still doesn’t answer, and I’m starting to wonder if I have it wrong. The guy that night was of few words, but he, at least, ended up being friendly. How do you toy with someone who won’t engage?
“Do you like to go to the drive-in, Masen?” I ask. “That’s your name, right?” I look down and fiddle with his pen, trying to act coy. “The weather’s getting nice enough for it. Maybe you’d like to come with my girlfriends and me some time. Wanna give me your number?”
His chest caves with every exhale, and I feel my skin start to hum as he just holds my eyes. His deep green pools glow with a fire I can’t place. Anger? Fear? Desire? What the hell is he thinking, and why won’t he speak? I force the lump down my throat, feeling like I’m waiting for the Jack to pop out of the box.
“You don’t like people?” I press, leaning in and whispering, “Or you don’t like girls?”
“Miss Trevarrow?” a stern female voice I recognize as Principal Burrowes calls. “Off the table.”
I turn my head to acknowledge her, but then, all of a sudden, hands grab my waist and pull me forward.
I gasp, shocked, as I land in Masen’s lap, straddling him.
“I like girls,” he whispers in my ear, and my heart is pounding so hard it hurts.
Then the tip of his tongue glides up my neck, and I’m frozen, breathing a mile a minute as heat races through my blood.
Fuck.
“But you?” His deep voice and hot breath fall over the skin of my neck. “You kind of taste like shit.”
What?
And then he stands up, and I tumble off his lap, landing on the floor. I shoot my hands out, catching myself.
What the hell?
Laughter echoes around me, and I dart my head around, seeing a few people at nearby tables chuckling as they stare at me.
Walls close in around me, and I burn with embarrassment.
I don’t have to turn around to know Lyla is probably smiling, as well.
Son of a bitch.
And then I watch as Masen Laurent grabs his notebook and pen, drapes his earbuds around his neck, and walks around me, leaving the cafeteria without another word.
Asshole. What the hell is his problem?
I stand up, brushing off my skirt, and head back to my table.
That wasn’t the first time anyone’s laughed at my expense, but it will be the last.
“I’m going to Banana Republic.” Ten rushes up and hooks an arm around my neck. “Want to come?”
I shake my head, taking a left down the hall. “I need to get home. It’s my turn to make dinner tonight.”
The school is empty, and we just finished practice, but while everyone else is showering and getting ready for wherever they’re rushing off to, I’m still in my shorts, sports bra, and tank top. I just want to get out of here. This day threw me off track, and I need to regroup.
That new kid, Masen, is a real piece of work, and I’d had to turn off my phone to ignore the Facebook notifications after lunch. Thank goodness no one had time to snap a picture of him dumping me on my ass in the cafeteria, but that didn’t stop Lyla from posting a meme online, joking about it and tagging me.
Of course, she was “only teasing.”