Punk 57
Page 18
He twists his head, jerking his chin behind us, and I look up from my Math homework, and turn around, following his eyes.
The new kid sits at a round table by himself, legs spread out underneath and crossed at the ankles, his arms folded over his chest. Black wires drape his chest, leading to the earbuds sitting in his ears, and the same hard expression from this morning is focused on the tabletop in front of him.
I hold back a smile. So he is real. Ten sees him, too.
And then my gaze drops to his right arm, seeing the tattoos scaling down the length. A flutter hits my stomach.
I hadn’t seen those this morning.
Probably because I wasn’t seated on that side of him. I couldn’t make out what the pictures were, but I could tell there was script mixed in. Glancing around the room, I notice others looking at him, as well. Curious sideways glances, closed whispers…
Turning back around, I put my pencil to the paper again, finishing the assignment I’d gotten this morning so I won’t have to do it tonight. “You think he’s sneaking into the school? What makes you say that?”
“Well, look at him. Jail’s in his future.”
“Yeah, that’s proof,” I mumble sarcastically, still writing.
Honestly, he doesn’t look that bad. A little dirty, a little angry, but that doesn’t imply he’s a criminal.
I glance behind me again, taking in his face for a moment…the muscles of his jaw, the strong, dark eyes, the slant of his nose and eyebrows like he’s in a constant state of displeasure… He looks more like the type who would punch you for saying hello, not spray-painting song lyrics on school walls.
His stare suddenly rises, and he looks up. I follow his gaze.
Trey is walking this way, saying something to Principal Burrowes as he passes by, and New Guy watches them.
“Is he new?” Lyla asks across from me, and I see her taking in the new guy. “He’s not bad looking at all. What’s his name?”
“Masen Laurent,” Ten answers.
I can’t help it. I say the name in my head, letting it roll across my mind. So that’s the name he was trying to keep his friend from telling me at the warehouse?
“He was in my Physics class this morning,” Ten explains.
“He was in my first period, too,” I add, turning the textbook page and jotting down the next problem. “He didn’t speak.”
“What do you know about him?” Lyla asks.
I shrug, not looking up. “Nothing. Don’t care.”
Trey and J.D. sit down, one on each side of Lyla, and begin digging into their sandwiches.
“Hey, babe.” Trey presses a fry to my closed mouth. I grab it and fling it over my shoulder, hearing him and J.D. laugh, while I continue my homework.
“I don’t think he’s said anything to anyone,” Ten says. “Mr. Kline asked him a question in Physics, and he just sat there.”
“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.”
The new kid sits at a round table by himself, legs spread out underneath and crossed at the ankles, his arms folded over his chest. Black wires drape his chest, leading to the earbuds sitting in his ears, and the same hard expression from this morning is focused on the tabletop in front of him.
I hold back a smile. So he is real. Ten sees him, too.
And then my gaze drops to his right arm, seeing the tattoos scaling down the length. A flutter hits my stomach.
I hadn’t seen those this morning.
Probably because I wasn’t seated on that side of him. I couldn’t make out what the pictures were, but I could tell there was script mixed in. Glancing around the room, I notice others looking at him, as well. Curious sideways glances, closed whispers…
Turning back around, I put my pencil to the paper again, finishing the assignment I’d gotten this morning so I won’t have to do it tonight. “You think he’s sneaking into the school? What makes you say that?”
“Well, look at him. Jail’s in his future.”
“Yeah, that’s proof,” I mumble sarcastically, still writing.
Honestly, he doesn’t look that bad. A little dirty, a little angry, but that doesn’t imply he’s a criminal.
I glance behind me again, taking in his face for a moment…the muscles of his jaw, the strong, dark eyes, the slant of his nose and eyebrows like he’s in a constant state of displeasure… He looks more like the type who would punch you for saying hello, not spray-painting song lyrics on school walls.
His stare suddenly rises, and he looks up. I follow his gaze.
Trey is walking this way, saying something to Principal Burrowes as he passes by, and New Guy watches them.
“Is he new?” Lyla asks across from me, and I see her taking in the new guy. “He’s not bad looking at all. What’s his name?”
“Masen Laurent,” Ten answers.
I can’t help it. I say the name in my head, letting it roll across my mind. So that’s the name he was trying to keep his friend from telling me at the warehouse?
“He was in my Physics class this morning,” Ten explains.
“He was in my first period, too,” I add, turning the textbook page and jotting down the next problem. “He didn’t speak.”
“What do you know about him?” Lyla asks.
I shrug, not looking up. “Nothing. Don’t care.”
Trey and J.D. sit down, one on each side of Lyla, and begin digging into their sandwiches.
“Hey, babe.” Trey presses a fry to my closed mouth. I grab it and fling it over my shoulder, hearing him and J.D. laugh, while I continue my homework.
“I don’t think he’s said anything to anyone,” Ten says. “Mr. Kline asked him a question in Physics, and he just sat there.”
“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.”
