couldn’t promise him or even myself, I would stay calm.
The day wasn’t beginning the way I had planned. I was as superstitious as those Black Sox players. I believed things happened in threes, whether good or bad. If the first incident were bad, then the next two would be, as well. The news about Neil was terrible. If anyone knew Neil helped us, Sam and I would be in more trouble—worse than what happened with Cliff. We could be accused of murder.
I only had a few minutes before the bell rang. I climbed the steps two at a time to the second floor where my locker was located. I stopped at the top to catch my breath, my ribs throbbing, but not as bad as a week ago. With three minutes to spare, I scurried to my locker, which was near my first period History class, thank God.
I grabbed the books I needed for the morning classes, slammed the door, and clicked the lock in place.
When I entered the classroom, students were talking in small groups around the room and Mr. Zielinski was seated at his desk with his nose buried in a large, thick book of some type. I made my way to my seat, which was in the last row near the windows. I bent over to pull my History book out of my bag, when someone pinched my arm.
“Ow,” I screeched as I jerked up my head.
Darcy Rose, my best friend, stood in front of me. Her golden blonde hair fanned out, spilling over her shoulders, and her gold speckled mascara glinted in the light from the classroom window.
“Whoa! What the heck happened to you?” she asked.
I totally forgot about meeting Darcy this morning. Shit!
“Spill, woman.” She had one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around her bag.
“I’m sorry, I got caught up talking to Sam.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She pointed to my face. “It looks like someone was trying to carve you up for their dinner.”
“Ha, ha. After class.”
“No. Now.” She raised her voice.
“Hush.”
I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, but if I didn’t say something she would make a scene.
“I promise, after class. The bell is about to ring.”
She huffed and plopped down in front of me.
Darcy took the title of drama queen to a whole different level. In my book, she was drama squared. While she was my best friend, and best friends were supposed to keep secrets, she still had a tendency to gossip or let things slip.
The bell rang. Mr. Zee, as he liked to be called, closed the classroom door. He didn’t waste any time as he handed out a quiz. Crap, I didn’t study a thing.
I grabbed a pencil out of my backpack when Darcy handed me a note.
“You have fifteen minutes. Begin,” he said.
The sea of heads in the class lowered their gaze and began scribbling.
I opened the note. The words, Where’s Ben? were written in big letters. Darcy had a thing for Ben. She’d yearned to go out with him since we’d started school in the fall. Her words: “Who’s the Greek god? I think I’m in love.”
Ben had a small following of girls from all grades hanging out at his baseball games, cheering him on, and now he had Darcy.
I folded the note and stuffed it into my jean pocket. I scribbled my name on the top of the page and scanned the quiz. Most of it was multiple-choice except for the last one, which was an essay.
Since we were studying the Civil War, the essay question asked us to describe, in a paragraph or two, President Lincoln and the Confederate forces at Fort Sumter. I unpacked my memory trying to think about Mr. Zee’s lecture on President Lincoln—no luck. I couldn’t recall anything on the topic. I answered all the multiple-choice, then wrote the first word for the essay when Mr. Zee called time.
“Pass your quizzes forward.”
I sighed. I’m sure Mr. Zee would be disappointed with me for not answering the last one.
As soon as he collected the quizzes, Darcy turned around. “Well?”
“Gee, you’re irritating.”
“Are you going to spill or not?”
“When the bell rings.” I narrowed my
The day wasn’t beginning the way I had planned. I was as superstitious as those Black Sox players. I believed things happened in threes, whether good or bad. If the first incident were bad, then the next two would be, as well. The news about Neil was terrible. If anyone knew Neil helped us, Sam and I would be in more trouble—worse than what happened with Cliff. We could be accused of murder.
I only had a few minutes before the bell rang. I climbed the steps two at a time to the second floor where my locker was located. I stopped at the top to catch my breath, my ribs throbbing, but not as bad as a week ago. With three minutes to spare, I scurried to my locker, which was near my first period History class, thank God.
I grabbed the books I needed for the morning classes, slammed the door, and clicked the lock in place.
When I entered the classroom, students were talking in small groups around the room and Mr. Zielinski was seated at his desk with his nose buried in a large, thick book of some type. I made my way to my seat, which was in the last row near the windows. I bent over to pull my History book out of my bag, when someone pinched my arm.
“Ow,” I screeched as I jerked up my head.
Darcy Rose, my best friend, stood in front of me. Her golden blonde hair fanned out, spilling over her shoulders, and her gold speckled mascara glinted in the light from the classroom window.
“Whoa! What the heck happened to you?” she asked.
I totally forgot about meeting Darcy this morning. Shit!
“Spill, woman.” She had one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around her bag.
“I’m sorry, I got caught up talking to Sam.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She pointed to my face. “It looks like someone was trying to carve you up for their dinner.”
“Ha, ha. After class.”
“No. Now.” She raised her voice.
“Hush.”
I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, but if I didn’t say something she would make a scene.
“I promise, after class. The bell is about to ring.”
She huffed and plopped down in front of me.
Darcy took the title of drama queen to a whole different level. In my book, she was drama squared. While she was my best friend, and best friends were supposed to keep secrets, she still had a tendency to gossip or let things slip.
The bell rang. Mr. Zee, as he liked to be called, closed the classroom door. He didn’t waste any time as he handed out a quiz. Crap, I didn’t study a thing.
I grabbed a pencil out of my backpack when Darcy handed me a note.
“You have fifteen minutes. Begin,” he said.
The sea of heads in the class lowered their gaze and began scribbling.
I opened the note. The words, Where’s Ben? were written in big letters. Darcy had a thing for Ben. She’d yearned to go out with him since we’d started school in the fall. Her words: “Who’s the Greek god? I think I’m in love.”
Ben had a small following of girls from all grades hanging out at his baseball games, cheering him on, and now he had Darcy.
I folded the note and stuffed it into my jean pocket. I scribbled my name on the top of the page and scanned the quiz. Most of it was multiple-choice except for the last one, which was an essay.
Since we were studying the Civil War, the essay question asked us to describe, in a paragraph or two, President Lincoln and the Confederate forces at Fort Sumter. I unpacked my memory trying to think about Mr. Zee’s lecture on President Lincoln—no luck. I couldn’t recall anything on the topic. I answered all the multiple-choice, then wrote the first word for the essay when Mr. Zee called time.
“Pass your quizzes forward.”
I sighed. I’m sure Mr. Zee would be disappointed with me for not answering the last one.
As soon as he collected the quizzes, Darcy turned around. “Well?”
“Gee, you’re irritating.”
“Are you going to spill or not?”
“When the bell rings.” I narrowed my
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