1642734778_punk-57-pdf

“So peg the dirty new kid with no friends?” I retort. “What possible
reason would he have for vandalizing the school? Oh, wait. I forgot. I don’t
care.”
And I lean over my assignment, filling out the header, continuing,
“Masen Laurent is not living in the school. He’s not vandalizing the walls,
the lockers, or anything else. He’s new, you’re scheming, and I’m bored
with this conversation.”
“We can get it out of him,” Trey chimes in. “I can sneak into my
stepmom’s office and check his file. See where he lives.”
“Hell yeah,” J.D. agrees.
The sinister tone to their voices unnerves me. Trey gets away with
everything, especially since the principal is his stepmother.
I close my book and notebook, piling them on top of each other. “And
how would that be any fun for me?”
Trey smiles. “What did you have in mind? Name it.”
I rest my forearms on the table and turn my head over my shoulder,
watching Masen Laurent. His stoic expression is confusing. As if everyone
around him doesn’t exist.
They bustle about, passing by him, their voices carrying across his
table, laughter to his left and a dropped tray to his right, but a bubble
surrounds him. Life carries on outside of it, but nothing breaches it.
But I feel, even though he responds to nothing going on around him,
he’s aware of it. He’s aware of everything, and a chill runs down my arms.
Turning back to Trey, I take a deep breath, shaking it off. “Do you trust
me?”
“No, but I’ll give you a long leash.”
J.D. laughs, and I rise from the table, pushing back my chair.
“Where are you going?” Lyla asks.