She stares at me with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before accepting that I’m a stubborn asshole who isn’t going anywhere but up the stairs and through the double doors. Because we loitered at the entrance, Josie’s homeroom is almost full when we arrive.
“There are no empty seats in this class,” she tells me, holding out her hand for her bag.
I keep a hold of it. “I’ll find one.”
She rolls her eyes before walking to her own desk which, inconveniently, is two rows from the front and in the middle. I’m going to have to co-opt someone else’s desk, which is bound to cause a ruckus. Josie won’t be happy.
She watches me with some mild amusement as she correctly reads my predicament. She taps her bare wrist, telling me that the clock is ticking. I hold up my index finger in reply.One minute, I silently say. Then I speed out of the classroom, go next door, grab the first empty chair, and return, triumphant, with it over my head.
“There,” I say, setting the chair, and my ass, next to Josie. “Problem solved.”
“You still stole someone’s seat.”
“Yes, but from next door, and once the bell rings, the doors lock, right?” At least that was how it was in our school. It was a safety measure due to the school shootings.
“From the inside,” she reminds me.
“I must have been sleeping during the drills,” I admit. Or, more likely, I wasn’t even at school. I spent most of my days not going to class. That may affect my ability to graduate according to the principal, but I’m not going to let little details get me down. It’s not like a guy with a juvenile record like mine is getting a lot of job offers that require a high school diploma.
“Do we know you?” a voice to my right says.
I swing my head slightly to size up this male who feels comfortable enough in Josie’s presence to say something. He’s slight with brown hair and brown eyes. He wears the standard boy uniform of open plaid shirt over a T-shirt. His is gray. His shoes, though, are unusual. They’re not sneakers but some kind of slip-on loafer. He couldn’t run more than two feet in them without getting tripped up. I could take him down and fold him into a box in under a minute.
“He’s a friend of mine,” Josie interjects hastily, as if she can sense the direction of my thoughts. “He’s thinking about transferring in.”
“We’re in the last semester. You can’t transfer.” The guy has such a punchable face. Josie drops her palm over the top of the fist I didn’t even register I’d made.
“He’s behind in school,” she provides as an excuse.
“I can’t imagine why,” the guy responds with heavy sarcasm.
His attempt at insults just slides off my back. I don’t really care what this random person thinks of my intelligence. I get by fine.
“He’s actually very smart,” Josie snaps. I give her a wink for coming to my defense.
“He’s in a gang. You can tell by his tattoo.” He points to the dark ink that peeks out from under the sleeve of my short sleeve white T-shirt.
“It’s more of a collective.” I put my hands behind my head so that more of the tattoo is clearly visible.
“A collective of thugs,” he shoots back.
“Matt,” Josie says in warning.
Her classmate makes a face as if he’s swallowed something sour. “I’m just watching out for you.”
This time I give him my full attention. He clearly has some feelings for Josie, and that needs to go away immediately. “You don’t need to do that. I’m here.”
“He’s helping me with the disappearances,” she explains, even though I don’t feel like he deserves one.
Matt’s attention is diverted. “Are you talking about Cole? What do you know?”
“Nothing really.” She shoots me a silent request to not bring up the fact we found—and lost—Cole’s body. It wasn’t necessary. I wouldn’t be sharing details of anything with this guy, not even what I plan to have for lunch. Steak po’ boy from Room Seven, if anyone was wondering. “Have you heard anything?”
The guy slumps back in his chair. “No. Everyone liked him. He wasn’t a star on the team, but he contributed a lot of good minutes. I don’t know much about his home life. Didn’t seem like he had much of one, to be honest.”
“What about his family?” I ask.
Matt shrugs. “Lives with his dad. Mom died a while back. She was religious. I remember Cole going to church on Wednesday nights for some kiddie Bible study. I’m not sure what his dad does. I think Cole said his old man was overseas a lot.”
