Punk 57(20)

I take my hand off his chest and lean back again. “I remember you, you know? You were at the scavenger hunt in February. At the warehouse in Thunder Bay.”

He still doesn’t answer, and I’m starting to wonder if I have it wrong. The guy that night was of few words, but he, at least, ended up being friendly. How do you toy with someone who won’t engage?

“Do you like to go to the drive-in, Masen?” I ask. “That’s your name, right?” I look down and fiddle with his pen, trying to act coy. “The weather’s getting nice enough for it. Maybe you’d like to come with my girlfriends and me some time. Wanna give me your number?”

His chest caves with every exhale, and I feel my skin start to hum as he just holds my eyes. His deep green pools glow with a fire I can’t place. Anger? Fear? Desire? What the hell is he thinking, and why won’t he speak? I force the lump down my throat, feeling like I’m waiting for the Jack to pop out of the box.

“You don’t like people?” I press, leaning in and whispering, “Or you don’t like girls?”

“Miss Trevarrow?” a stern female voice I recognize as Principal Burrowes calls. “Off the table.”

I turn my head to acknowledge her, but then, all of a sudden, hands grab my waist and pull me forward.

I gasp, shocked, as I land in Masen’s lap, straddling him.

“I like girls,” he whispers in my ear, and my heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

Then the tip of his tongue glides up my neck, and I’m frozen, breathing a mile a minute as heat races through my blood.

Fuck.

“But you?” His deep voice and hot breath fall over the skin of my neck. “You kind of taste like shit.”

What?

And then he stands up, and I tumble off his lap, landing on the floor. I shoot my hands out, catching myself.

What the hell?

Laughter echoes around me, and I dart my head around, seeing a few people at nearby tables chuckling as they stare at me.

Walls close in around me, and I burn with embarrassment.

I don’t have to turn around to know Lyla is probably smiling, as well.

Son of a bitch.

And then I watch as Masen Laurent grabs his notebook and pen, drapes his earbuds around his neck, and walks around me, leaving the cafeteria without another word.

Asshole. What the hell is his problem?

I stand up, brushing off my skirt, and head back to my table.

That wasn’t the first time anyone’s laughed at my expense, but it will be the last.





“I’m going to Banana Republic.” Ten rushes up and hooks an arm around my neck. “Want to come?”

I shake my head, taking a left down the hall. “I need to get home. It’s my turn to make dinner tonight.”

The school is empty, and we just finished practice, but while everyone else is showering and getting ready for wherever they’re rushing off to, I’m still in my shorts, sports bra, and tank top. I just want to get out of here. This day threw me off track, and I need to regroup.

That new kid, Masen, is a real piece of work, and I’d had to turn off my phone to ignore the Facebook notifications after lunch. Thank goodness no one had time to snap a picture of him dumping me on my ass in the cafeteria, but that didn’t stop Lyla from posting a meme online, joking about it and tagging me.

Of course, she was “only teasing.”

Whatever. I need to get home anyway.

I was able to get Pre-Calc done at lunch, but I still have some questions from the Novel Study and Government to do tonight.

“Whoa. Is that your locker?” I hear Ten say.

I look down the hallway and spot a pile of belongings spilling out onto the floor. About right where my locker is located.

Ten releases me, and we both jog up to the mess, seeing my locker door hanging open and part of it bent, as if it’s been pried open with a crow bar or something.

What the hell?

I kneel down, my lungs emptying as I sift through my clothes, iPod, and a mountain of papers laying astray from the folders they were neatly organized in previously.

“What the hell happened?” Ten bursts out. “Is anything missing?”

I swing the locker door open wide and survey the remaining contents. The little pink shelves and overhead lamp I’d installed are still in there, as well as my umbrella and fleece jacket I keep in there just in case. I kneel down, surveying the items on the floor and see that all of my books are accounted for as well as the Louboutins and the shirts I hide from my mom.

“I don’t think so,” I say breathlessly, still confused.

Why break into my locker and not take anything?

I look around nervously, noticing no one else’s locker has been vandalized that I can tell.

“I wonder what that means,” Ten says.

“What?” I look up, following his gaze.

He holds my locker door closed, showing me the word written in black Sharpie on the front.

Empty.

I stare at it, confused. What?

My lungs feel heavy, and I search my brain, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

Empty? And why just my locker?

I gather up all of my belongings and pack them in my duffel, completely creeped out that someone was doing this while I was at practice. The office is closed now, but I’m definitely reporting this in the morning.