Black Bird of the Gallows(45)
“He was stung,” Reece says. He slings an arm over my shoulders and nudges me toward the entrance.
“I saw.” I adjust to the warmth and feel of his muscled arm, looped so naturally up there. For once, I’m the perfect height for something. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“Probably the same thing that happens to everyone who is stung.” Reece nods to a few guys from the hockey team, standing by their cars, gaping at him with me. “I advise staying far away from him.”
19-the announcement
Corey Anderson got a nosebleed in Geometry class. I was there. I saw it. He went to the nurse. The nosebleed stopped. He came back to class. All was good until PE two periods later, when he slammed a volleyball into Steve Collier’s face because of a bad serve. It went downhill from there. He received a two-day suspension.
That volleyball part I hear secondhand from Deno. At lunch. The meatball I’m swallowing changes its mind halfway down my throat and tries to come back up.
Deno thumps my back. “What’s with you lately? I had no idea you had such a personal interest in Corey Anderson’s attendance.”
“I don’t,” I choke out. “I’m having trouble swallowing today.”
“Distracted much?” Lacey raises a brow and grins at me. “New boyfriends will do that.” She glances over her shoulder at Reece, who is sitting with the hockey guys at their table. He agreed—reluctantly—for us to sit at our respective tables. No force on this Earth could get me to sit over there, and the thought of trying to integrate him into my table made me feel vaguely ill.
I grin, pleasantly disturbed by the terms “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” and baffled by how the act of walking into school with a boy’s arm around you automatically bestowed the official title.
Deno shoots me a look. “It’s still surprising.”
“I know.” I don’t pretend to misunderstand him. Everyone is talking about the hot new hockey guy and a weird band girl getting together. We are not a logical pairing. Kiera Shaw laughs with her friends as if nothing is different. She hasn’t looked at me once, thankfully. She hasn’t acknowledged Reece, either, even though he’s still sitting just a bunch of seats down from her. Obviously, she’s not going to compete for his attention with someone like me, who she considers far beneath herself.
Lacey leans forward and lowers her voice. “Oh! They’re talking about you now, Angie.”
The three of us fall into silence. My breathing goes shallow as I strain to eavesdrop on Reece’s conversation at the table behind Lacey.
“You’re seriously with Angie Dovage when you could have Kiera Shaw?” Mike Gordon, another hockey player, an asshole one, doesn’t care who hears his conversation. “I don’t get it. Kiera was all about you.”
“Whatever, dude.” Reece’s reply is muddled by whatever he’s chewing. “Have you ever actually looked at Angie? She’s beautiful. Talented. And really nice.”
Quiet. “Oh, Angie,” Lacey twitters. “I wouldn’t look if I were you.”
I’m not. My gaze is firmly fixed on my spaghetti, but I can hear the scrape of metal chairs shifting on concrete floors, and I can feel the curious eyes on me. My cheeks start to burn. Okay, I’m not a fan of blatant objectification, but the lunchroom is not the place for deep, meaningful talk with this particular subset of the hockey team.
The chairs squeak back around, followed by grunts of agreement.
Wow. Seriously?
“Besides,” Reece continues, quietly. “Kiera yells. A lot.”
“Kiera does yell,” Mike says, loud enough for Kiera to hear. “That’s true. But a band geek, Reece? Really?”
“Yeah, really,” Reece says. “She’s a killer performer.”
Deno shoves his turquoise glasses up his nose. “Where’s he going with this?”
I’m tense as a rod, wondering the same thing. He totally wouldn’t out me. He wouldn’t.
The loudspeaker cuts off whatever Reece might have said next with a loud crackle. The principal’s voice fills the cafeteria. “Students are to immediately report to their homerooms. Under no circumstances are staff or students to leave the building. I repeat, students report to your homerooms…”
This is not Principal Henderson’s usual bored drawl. Her voice squeaks like a sneaker on the gym floor. I look up sharply at Reece. He shrugs back at me, then yawns.
No one else seems to share his blasé attitude. Kids shove a few last bites into their mouths, gather up their things, and make for the exits. There’s a sense of curiosity, of worry. Some excitement. My harbinger boyfriend is the only one bored by the whole thing. Reece finds me in the packed hallway. His hand curls around mine. “Maybe it’s just a drill.”
“You know it’s not.”
He pulls in a deep breath, nostrils wide. “Nothing to worry about here.”
“Really? You can just…smell that?” I wrinkle my nose.
“Yup. Hey, you’re the one who wanted no secrets.”
“That’s right, I did,” I say. “Speaking of which, what were you going to say to those guys at your lunch table about me being a good performer?”