1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I run across the school parking lot, not seeing any cars, but I look
around just in case. I heard they were going to start hiring security to do
sweeps every so often, trying to catch the little vandal who’s decorating the
walls, but I don’t see any security vehicles. And they’re still in the process
of getting the cameras working, so for now, it’s safe.
Jumping the fence to the practice field, I hike up onto some old football
equipment and lift up the loose screen leading into the men’s locker room.
Raising the window, I hop up and plant my ass on the sill and swing my
legs over. I throw my duffel on the floor and jump down, turning around to
close the window again.
I’ve only risked this a few times in the past couple of weeks, but I’m
tired of mooching off Dane for his shower, too. And plus, I could take all
night here if I wanted. Even the couches in the library are more comfortable
than the Cove.
I grab a towel and strip, stepping into a stall and turning on the water.
The hot spray spreads chills down my body, and I damn near groan at the
pleasure. This is definitely a perk of not living at the Cove. I miss my
shower at home with my dry-erase marker I used to write on the wall and
all the time alone I want.
I wash my hair and body, savoring the soothing temperature of the water
probably longer than I should. As soon as I’m done, I dry off and dress in a
clean pair of jeans and a black thermal, packing my dirty clothes back in my
bag.
But suddenly I hear a beeping and then quick stutters of white noise. I
freeze, training my ears.
“Yeah,” a male voice says. “I’ll sweep down here and meet you
upstairs.”