Period 8 by Chris Crutcher Page A

woods. Hannah told Justin you were wigged way out when she found you. What was that about? And where did you go?”
    â€œI told you, Paulie, I can’t talk about it. It’s taken care of now, though, so you don’t have to worry.”
    â€œWere you high?”
    â€œPaulie, come on.”
    â€œHannah also told Justin you didn’t even know where you were.”
    â€œLook, I was scared, okay? Can we leave it at that?”
    â€œNot if I ran the zoo,” Paulie says. “But I fucking don’t run the zoo.”
    Â 
    There’s no open gym tonight, so Paulie drives aimlessly through neighborhoods killing time before putting in a couple of late hours cleaning up at The Rocket. He runs his earlier conversation with Mary over and over in his head and it still leaves him uneasy. Awful things, Paulie. What the fuck; he should get a million miles away from this.
    The calories he’s burned in the water today are catching up with him and a giant bag of buttered popcorn fills his imagination, so he pulls into the parking lot shared by the mall and the 16-screen cineplex .
    â€œHey, Marley,” he says to Marley Waits through the glass at the ticket booth.
    â€œHey, Paulie. Going to the movies alone, huh?”
    Paulie smiles. “It’s not that bad, yet,” he says.
    Marley looks at him with a hint of pity.
    â€œWhat I need more than sympathy right now is popcorn,” he says, grimacing. “Any chance you can get me in as far as the concession stand?” He raises his eyebrows.
    Marley looks behind her to see that no bosses are near, then back at him, shaking her head. “Don’t look at me like that,” she says, “you’re in enough trouble. And don’t sneak in on me, okay?”
    Paulie raises his right hand. “Good as my word,” he says, and Marley flinches. “I had that coming. I promise I will go only as far as the popcorn stand.”
    â€œListen,” she says. “I’m really sorry about you and Hannah. I mean, I’m on her side and everything, but . . . well, I’m sorry.”
    Paulie turns to look behind him, aware he might be holding up the line. There is none. “Hell, I’m on her side,” he says, turning back. “It was dumb.”
    Marley shakes her head. “Who in the world did you . . .”
    â€œPrivileged,” Paulie says.
    â€œHave you seen Hannah’s Facebook page?” Marley grimaces. “Man, I wouldn’t want to be whoever the chick was if she finds out. I mean, have you seen the arms on her?”
    Paulie smiles again. “I have seen the arms on her,” he says. I’ve also seen what they’re attached to. “Any chance I could get that popcorn?”
    â€œSure.” Something behind him catches her eye and her face pales. “Don’t look now. . . .”
    But he does, in time to see Hannah getting out of the passenger side of Arney Stack’s Audi. Arney walks around the car toward her, places a hand in the middle of her back as they walk toward the theater.
    â€œGuess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought,” Paulie says. “Thanks anyway.”
    â€œAw, Paulie.” But he’s gone. He jogs to his Beetle and in seconds is pulling onto the main street.

.9
    W hen Mary Wells walks into Period 8 the following day, the room goes quiet.
    â€œMs. Wells,” Logs says. “Welcome back.”
    â€œThanks,” she says in a near whisper, and moves sheepishly to a desk. She sits, hands folded on the flat surface in front of her.
    â€œDon’t mean to be pushy,” Justin says, “but how about bringin’ us up to speed.”
    Logs says, “Justin . . .”
    â€œNo,” Mary says. “He’s right.” She’s quiet again, glancing quickly at Hannah, then Paulie. Almost imperceptibly Paulie shakes his head, don’t do it.
    She looks at Arney, who smiles and