Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
In lit class thirty minutes later, I grab my usual seat beside Lawson just as a tired-looking man with thick-rimmed glasses walks in to set his coffee mug and stack of books on Mr. Goodwyn’s desk at the front of the room.
“Hello,” the man says with a three-pack-a-day grate in his voice. The stench of cigarettes travels quickly to the back row of desks. “I’m Mr. Matarese. I’ll be your instructor this week. Maybe next week too. We’ll see.”
He’s got an intense aura about him like he’s seen some shit. The kind of guy who spends the weekend polishing his gun and watching Full Metal Jacket. Cuts lines of Sylvia Plath out of books and tapes them to his fridge.
“What, like a sub?” someone asks.
“Does this mean we don’t have a quiz today?” Asa the kiss-ass interjects. “What happened to Mr. Goodwyn?”
Mr. Matarese opens a file folder full of stapled pages and hands stacks to the first people in each row to pass back.
“Mr. Goodwyn resigned his position for a family emergency. You’ve got twenty minutes for the quiz. Keep your eyes on your own paper.”
Lawson chuckles to himself as we both grab our quizzes.
“You know something about this?” I ask suspiciously.
Gray eyes gleaming, he gives me a coy shrug while pulling a pencil from his bag. “Of course not. How could I?”
By Thursday, Fenn is still a walking coma patient and barely saying anything to anyone. And to add insult to injury, the subtext with Silas is getting unbearable. Lawson’s set his sights on the new junior, which leaves Silas and me as stretching partners for cooldown after practice.
If you’ve ever looked into the face of someone while they’ve thought about holding your head underwater until your limbs stop thrashing, you can imagine the awkward.
Silas is scowling. Gritting his teeth. Seething and spiteful, but too chickenshit to say his piece, so he communicates in dirty looks and silent treatment, lest I confuse any of our interactions for friendly.
When we get out of the showers and he pretends not to notice he’s blocking my locker, I’ve finally had it.
“Get it off your chest already,” I snap. “Or get out of the way. I don’t care which.”
Lawson, who’s standing fully naked a few feet away, smothers an excited grin because he’s been dying for this confrontation for two weeks. Lawson Kent loves chaos. It didn’t take more than a few hours at Sandover Prep for me to learn that. The guy craves destruction, both self and otherwise, on a level that’s almost scary.
Silas turns, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. “I take it Sloane told you.”
“She did. And it’s fucked up.”
He shrugs in an attempt to look nonchalant, even when we both know he’d rather bust knuckles.
I’d take that fight, no hesitation. Except Silas is a coward and prefers being a passive-aggressive asshole. Trying to make Sloane feel small or insecure so she’ll run into his arms is a beta fuck move, and it’s finally shown me his true face. He was decent to me when I first got here but stopped being nice the second Sloane showed interest in me. Since I suspected almost instantly that he has a thing for her, it’s sort of validating to finally have that confirmed.
“I’m not going to apologize for trying to protect my friend from some random new guy I barely know,” Silas says.
“Fine. Don’t apologize. Just know I’m on my girlfriend’s side. Always.”
“Meow,” Lawson drawls. He claws at the air, enjoying himself.
“Whatever, Shaw. Have fun in the never-ending drama that is Sloane Tresscott.”
Nothing gets resolved, and I don’t try to stop him when he rolls his eyes at me and leaves. Because there’s not much left to say to each other. He’s not sorry and I’m not forgiving, so we’re at an impasse.
Anyway, I’ve got other shit to deal with. After I finish getting dressed, I meet up with Fenn and Lucas in the computer lab. I texted them before swim practice to wait for me there. Took me a couple of days, but it wasn’t as hard as I thought to figure a way through the communications blackout at Gabe’s school. Although there is one small catch.
“Five grand,” I tell Lucas.
“Fuck off, seriously?” He’s aghast at the price tag, and I don’t blame him.
“I tried to talk him down, but I wasn’t in a great bargaining position.” I’m almost positive I’m not the first person this dude’s shaken down. “I found a security guard at the school who is willing to take a bribe to pass a message.”
“That’s it? I was thinking something like we get him to sneak Gabe a phone.”
“No, nothing like that. Students are legit strip-searched and have room inspections every day.”
Fenn throws a sideways look at Lucas. “The hell kind of place did your dad send him?”