I found myself scanning the cafeteria the next day for a shock of short white hair, but apparently Seely had a different lunch hour. Too bad, I thought as I weaved my way out of the cafeteria to the patio outside. I could have used the company.
I dropped my tray onto one of the patio’s concrete picnic tables. I used to have a spot inside, freshman year. But as my friends got kicked out of Twain one at a time, it got harder to hold on to the table, until finally I was the only one left, and I just gave up on the cafeteria altogether.
The patio was usually pretty empty, but today a familiar face threw himself onto the bench across from me—Jake something-or-other. He used to sit with my crowd sometimes last year, when we made room. He reminded me of one of those little yappy dogs that think they’re bigger than they are and try to take on Rottweilers. Actually, Jake tried to take on everyone. As often as he picked fights, it was kind of a miracle he hadn’t been kicked out yet himself.
Marjorie Benson sat next to him and gave me a short nod. I used to look forward to seeing Marjorie around school, but most of my old crew had seen enough of her to spoil the mystery. Still, she was hot enough that I couldn’t figure out why she’d be sitting with Jake, until I realized most of her friends probably went to the alternative school now, too.
“What’s up, Dane?” Jake asked, forking a bite of something brown and vaguely meat-like into his mouth. A few drops of gravy landed on his shirt, and he kind of smeared them in with his fingers.
This was the company I’d been left with when my friends evaporated.
“Nothing,” I muttered. “You?”
“Ah, you know. Usual. Putting freshmen in their place.” He gave me a conspiratorial grin, but I felt something stick in my throat.
“Which freshmen?” I asked. I narrowed my eyes at Jake, trying to decide if he was the type to pick on a kid like Billy—if Jake was the one who had scared him.
“Any freshmen. All freshmen. How should I know?”
“Any named Billy Drum?” My tone made Jake lean back a bit.
“I don’t think so. Who’s that?”
“Is that the special ed kid you’ve been running around with?” Marjorie asked in a bored voice.
“What do you know about it?” I snapped.
She waved a hand like it was old news. “Nina Sinclair was talking about it in gym. She says you walk him to school—like you’re volunteering for some charity program or something.” Marjorie laughed. “She obviously doesn’t know you very well. Stuck-up twit. You didn’t go out with her, did you?”
Jake cut in before I could answer. “What’s that about, Dane? You some kinda hero now?”
“Not a hero,” I grunted, embarrassed. “But if I find out you messed with him—”
“No way. I wouldn’t hit a retard. And I sure as shit wouldn’t hit a friend of yours, man. Swear.”
“He’s not a retard. And he’s not my friend.” I lowered my eyes to my tray on that last bit, knowing it was a lie. It felt strange to defend Billy in one sentence and insult him in the next. But I didn’t like hearing what our hanging out was doing to my reputation. It was fine if a girl like Nina thought I was some kind of guardian angel, but I didn’t want a bunch of guys getting wind of it.
I took a bite of my sandwich. “We have a kind of deal going.”
“A deal? Like you’re doing him a favor or something?”
I looked sharply at Jake. “I don’t do favors.”
Jake laughed. “Well, I wish you’d do me a favor and create some action around here. Been getting pretty boring.”
“Yeah, Dane.” Marjorie winked. “When is the last time you got any action?” She bumped my leg under the table with her foot, and I slid away out of her reach. I appreciated tough girls—girls who’d grown up in the trailers next door to my own street and who knew how to handle everything from whiskey bottles to white-trash insults. Both would get knocked back in a single slug. I appreciated them, but I also knew to stay away from them.
“Not the action I meant.” Jake rolled his eyes. “I want to see you take someone out like when you made Jimmy Miller flip his bike. That was epic!”
“Any more epic moves like that, and I’m at the alternative school.”
“Better there than here,” Jake said. “Bet it’s not boring, anyway.”
“If you say so.”
“Stare much?” Marjorie said to someone over my shoulder.
I turned to see who she was talking to and saw Mark shuffling by. I sneered at his khaki pants and knockoff polo shirt—obviously something his mommy had put together from a secondhand shop. Who did he think he was, wearing some rich kid’s castoffs and trying to look like he lived anywhere but on my street?
“Oh, look, it’s the big mouth,” I jeered.
Mark caught my eye for only a split second before looking away and pretending he didn’t hear.
“Stop,” I ordered.
He did stop, and when he turned, I saw him puff up his chest a little bit. “Yeah?” he said, trying to sound tough.
I swung my legs to the other side of the bench to face him square. “I heard you’ve been telling my whole life story to your new next-door neighbor. You got a reason for that? You got a crush on me or something?”
Marjorie and Jake howled behind me, and their laughter made me feel stronger, meaner. “Well?” I pushed.
Mark seemed to summon all his courage. His skinny little arms tensed as his hands curled into fists. “Maybe Billy D.’s the one who has a crush on you,” he said. “He’s the one who likes guys.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My own hands were fists now, and they were wrapped in the itch.
“I caught that pervert looking in my bedroom window,” Mark spat.
I was on my feet and in Mark’s face in an instant. I heard Jake scrambling over the concrete table behind me. “Say that again,” I dared Mark, the heat of my breath on his cheeks.
Mark’s eyes darted back and forth between mine, his brain probably boiling over with the fight-or-flight instinct. He should have run for it, but it wasn’t like any kid from our neighborhood to back down—even a shrimp like Mark. “I said your friend Billy D. is a pervert,” he repeated. “And you probably are, too.”
My hand grabbed the front of his fake designer polo, and the force behind it pushed him backward into the patio’s brick wall. I twisted the fistful of cloth until it was squeezed tight against his neck. His head made a gritty sound as it moved back and forth against the bricks.
“You really don’t know when to shut your mouth,” I growled.
Jake leaned casually against the wall next to Mark and whispered in his ear. “Nice move, dumb ass. My friend Dane is about to erase you from the planet.”
Something about Jake in that gravy-stained shirt with his creepy whisper and dangerous look in his eye—something about a guy like that calling me friend caused me to loosen my grip on Mark’s collar.
Jake saw the slack and flipped his eyes from Mark to me. “What?”
I gave Mark’s shirt one more rough shake before letting go and spitting at his feet. “Not worth it,” I said. I tried to sound like I’d made some calculated decision to let the kid go, but the truth was, looking at Jake had suddenly felt like looking in a mirror, and I didn’t like my reflection. Mark probably deserved to get knocked around, but maybe—just maybe—I had started it this time.
Mark inched away from the wall, straightening his shirt. He looked at me with a question in his face, as if asking permission to run away now.
I nodded once. “Go.”
Mark scrammed, and Jake threw his hands in the air. “Lame! There’s not even a lunch monitor around. You totally could have taken him down and gotten away with it.”
I shrugged, hoping I looked bored instead of weak. “He would’ve told. Anyway, he lives across the street from me. I can handle him later.” I moved back to the picnic table, where Marjorie was still picking at her lunch, looking utterly disinterested in the almost-bloodbath in front of her. I shoved the last of my sandwich into my mouth and scooped up my tray.
“Later, Marjorie.”
“Later.” She waved.
When I raised my hand to wave back, I realized the itch had faded but not gone. I was glad I’d managed to keep myself out of the warden’s office, but some part of me still wanted to give Mark what he deserved.