Myles is in Mrs. Humphrey’s classroom by her desk. He’s doing something with the printer that’s tucked into the corner.
I come closer but stay off to the side, hiding out of view.
What is he doing? And why now?
He gazes over his shoulder more than once and then takes the freshly printed paper, folding it. He stuffs it into his pocket and raises the top of the printer, revealing the scanner for the copier. He takes the paper and puts it back in the binder on the desk.
He’s definitely not supposed to be in there, and he’s definitely not supposed to be making a copy of whatever belongs in that binder.
Myles, once again, is up to no good.
He puts the binder in the file cabinet next to the desk and pushes it closed.
The second he turns I jump away from the door and make an attempt to book it to the bathroom. I still need to look at Mallory’s messages.
“Where is it?” he says, catching me by the back of my blazer.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He spins me around.
“Yes, you do.” His face is red like he just ran a marathon. Whatever he was doing in Mrs. Humphrey’s room has him stressed. “Where’s my phone?”
I cross my arms, determined not to let him take it before I get a chance to use my last two guesses. “Why were you in Mrs. Humphrey’s room?”
There’s a flash of worry on his face like he’s been caught red-handed, but it transforms into a glare. “Didn’t I tell you to stop following me around?”
“Since when do I listen to you?”
There’s a beat of silence as his eye twitches, studying me. I swear there’s a glint of pain. “That’s right. You never did.”
We aren’t touching, but he just stabbed me in the chest. Even though I hate him, I hate myself for not listening to him the night I drove that car.
Is this all because of me? Did I ruin him and create this monster?
He holds out his hand. “Give it back.”
I step closer to the bathroom, hand falling over my pocket. “I don’t have it.”
His eyes drop to my hand. “Fine. Be that way,” he says, lunging toward me.
I shriek as he wraps one arm around me and reaches for the phone.
I try to wrestle out of his grip while keeping my pocket away from him, but he’s a lot stronger than he used to be. He’s like a solid wall, and I can’t stop him.
“Hey!” I yell when he reaches into my pocket. “You can’t do that!”
He lets go the second the phone is in his grasp.
“Give it back,” I say, reaching for it like a wild monkey trying to get the last banana on a tree.
He shields himself by holding his hand out to block me as he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants.
I should’ve hidden in the bathroom instead of letting my curiosity get the best of me. I blew my chance of seeing what Mallory messaged him, and I know he’s going to guard his phone with his life. I won’t get another opportunity to take it.
“Just tell me what you’re doing with Mallory,” I say, stomping my foot.
“Leave me alone,” he says, pushing me back as his voice cracks. I don’t know if it’s from the stress of what he just did or if it’s because of me.
