are the types of unsavory things Antoine and his crew are known for.
“Well, you could have just asked me for it.”
“I did and you said no.”
“Then obviously, I didn’t want you to have it.”
“You did, you were just playing hard to get.”
“And maybe I still am.”
“Maybe you are. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. See you in school tomorrow?”
He asks like he’s not sure if I’m coming, which is weird because I rarely ever miss a day from school. There’s absolutely nothing to do in this house all day long. School is usually the better option.
“I’ll be in school.”
“And you’re not going to run from me again.”
I’m starting to get a little irritated at his continued implication that I’m afraid of him. “I haven’t been—”
“I know, you haven’t been running,” he says like he’s getting tired of hearing me make that claim. Which we both know is a big fat lie. “So when I speak to you, you’re gonna speak back?”
“It would be rude not to and I’m not rude.”
Antoine laughs. “What if I want to sit with you at lunch?”
“I already have people to sit with.”
“Okay, so do I. What if I wanted to walk you to your class?”
“Half my classes are GT, yours are on a different floor.” That sounds exactly like I’m classifying us, and I immediately want to take it back.
But Antoine just chuckles and brushes it off, I guess. “And you say you’re not playing hard to get. See you tomorrow, pretty girl.”
Today’s been weird. Everybody’s talking about the missing tour bus. Word was the group had gone to some little town inNew Haven for a retreat. New Haven’s not far from Lincoln. They’d come from Pennsylvania. A youth leader—I think somebody said his name was Minister Craig Hobbs—from this church where they actually have adults who pay attention to teenagers was in charge. Go figure. Along with Minister Hobbs were seven kids on the bus, three boys and four girls.
I wonder if their parents are worried. Lidia and Marvin probably wouldn’t even notice if I vanished. That’s a morbid thought, but I feel like it’s really true. I didn’t see either one of them this morning. Nor had they noticed that I ditched the party last night, ran out with a boy and was attacked by screeching birds. How could they not have noticed any of that? What kind of parents had a kid and then ignored them? The kind that, unfortunately, populate a good portion of the U.S.
So sad, but so true.
Anyway, it takes a lot of effort not to think about that missing bus of kids, especially since it’s on everybody’s mind. At lunch, Franklin joins us, so talking about what happened last night with Antoine and the birds is totally out of the question. He and Krystal cuddle most of the time. I eat my lunch, acting like their closeness isn’t bothering me. But now I keep thinking about me and Antoine. Cuddling.
After school I head straight to my car and see Mouse standing by the driver’s side door, waiting. He didn’t let me drive this morning, and I’m almost positive he’s not planning to let me drive now.
“I’m going to the library with a couple of friends. You know them—Jake and Krystal. They should be coming along soon.”
Mouse just nods, but he’s watching me in a weird way. Well, weirder than he normally does. I notice that he’s wearing all black. I think he always wears that color ensemble. Every day,black pants, black shoes, black shirt, black jacket. He could be related to Faith Hughes, the Goth girl who sits by the soda machine in the cafeteria. Except Mouse doesn’t have all the piercings. What he does have is a lot of muscles, like I just really noticed that today. His arms are like cannons and his neck is thick and short like a football player’s. His face is kind of rugged, his skin the color of mud. But he doesn’t look mean or scary, just strange and maybe intimidating. I guess that’s his purpose as my bodyguard.
“You
“Well, you could have just asked me for it.”
“I did and you said no.”
“Then obviously, I didn’t want you to have it.”
“You did, you were just playing hard to get.”
“And maybe I still am.”
“Maybe you are. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. See you in school tomorrow?”
He asks like he’s not sure if I’m coming, which is weird because I rarely ever miss a day from school. There’s absolutely nothing to do in this house all day long. School is usually the better option.
“I’ll be in school.”
“And you’re not going to run from me again.”
I’m starting to get a little irritated at his continued implication that I’m afraid of him. “I haven’t been—”
“I know, you haven’t been running,” he says like he’s getting tired of hearing me make that claim. Which we both know is a big fat lie. “So when I speak to you, you’re gonna speak back?”
“It would be rude not to and I’m not rude.”
Antoine laughs. “What if I want to sit with you at lunch?”
“I already have people to sit with.”
“Okay, so do I. What if I wanted to walk you to your class?”
“Half my classes are GT, yours are on a different floor.” That sounds exactly like I’m classifying us, and I immediately want to take it back.
But Antoine just chuckles and brushes it off, I guess. “And you say you’re not playing hard to get. See you tomorrow, pretty girl.”
Today’s been weird. Everybody’s talking about the missing tour bus. Word was the group had gone to some little town inNew Haven for a retreat. New Haven’s not far from Lincoln. They’d come from Pennsylvania. A youth leader—I think somebody said his name was Minister Craig Hobbs—from this church where they actually have adults who pay attention to teenagers was in charge. Go figure. Along with Minister Hobbs were seven kids on the bus, three boys and four girls.
I wonder if their parents are worried. Lidia and Marvin probably wouldn’t even notice if I vanished. That’s a morbid thought, but I feel like it’s really true. I didn’t see either one of them this morning. Nor had they noticed that I ditched the party last night, ran out with a boy and was attacked by screeching birds. How could they not have noticed any of that? What kind of parents had a kid and then ignored them? The kind that, unfortunately, populate a good portion of the U.S.
So sad, but so true.
Anyway, it takes a lot of effort not to think about that missing bus of kids, especially since it’s on everybody’s mind. At lunch, Franklin joins us, so talking about what happened last night with Antoine and the birds is totally out of the question. He and Krystal cuddle most of the time. I eat my lunch, acting like their closeness isn’t bothering me. But now I keep thinking about me and Antoine. Cuddling.
After school I head straight to my car and see Mouse standing by the driver’s side door, waiting. He didn’t let me drive this morning, and I’m almost positive he’s not planning to let me drive now.
“I’m going to the library with a couple of friends. You know them—Jake and Krystal. They should be coming along soon.”
Mouse just nods, but he’s watching me in a weird way. Well, weirder than he normally does. I notice that he’s wearing all black. I think he always wears that color ensemble. Every day,black pants, black shoes, black shirt, black jacket. He could be related to Faith Hughes, the Goth girl who sits by the soda machine in the cafeteria. Except Mouse doesn’t have all the piercings. What he does have is a lot of muscles, like I just really noticed that today. His arms are like cannons and his neck is thick and short like a football player’s. His face is kind of rugged, his skin the color of mud. But he doesn’t look mean or scary, just strange and maybe intimidating. I guess that’s his purpose as my bodyguard.
“You
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