I'll Stop the World (108)

“I have an idea . . . and it’s probably a bad one,” she said uncertainly.

“I told you, there’s not enough time for—”

“There is for this. Barely. But it’s a little . . . iffy,” she said. “I heard about something, but I’ve never tried it. It could either help you, or it could go really, really wrong.”

“Lisa, what on earth are you talking about?”

She shifted from one foot to the other, blowing out a long breath. “You have to know I wouldn’t normally suggest this. Really, I shouldn’t even know about it, but I overheard these kids talking and I was curious so I asked. And remember, you definitely don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but I do feel like this is at least partially my fault, so—”

“Oh my god, will you please just tell me?”

She leaned closer to him. “If there was a way to . . . know exactly what to study . . . would that help?”

His heart sank. This was her big plan? Some sort of new study method? He shook his head miserably. “It won’t make a difference. I already know which units will be covered in each test and—”

“No, Shawn, I mean like, exactly. Like . . . exactly exactly. If you want.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head. Was she suggesting what he thought she was? Had she seen copies of the tests? Did she know what was on them?

He thought about it. He’d never cheated in his life. He wasn’t one of those lazy jerks who assumed doors would swing open with nothing more than a look; no, he worked for his success. If he won the citizenship award next year, it would be because he’d earned it.

But if he didn’t do well on his finals, his chances of winning the award would shrink to practically nothing. And along with them, his chances of getting out of Buford County, of escaping his dad, of carving out a life that he chose, no one else.

If he’d been able to study like he planned, he knew he would have done well. He always did. Did he really deserve to lose his whole future, just because he’d run out of time? Was that really fair, after working so hard for so long?

In a way, he wouldn’t even really be cheating. He’d just be getting the grades he should have gotten anyway. The grades he deserved, to secure the future he had earned.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I’ll do anything.”

Lisa took another deep breath, then lowered her voice. “Do you know about locker two forty-seven?”





Chapter Sixty-Six


SHAWN

His hands kneaded the steering wheel as he slowed his truck to a stop. Even though he’d picked a low-traffic street around the corner from the school, Shawn felt exposed, vulnerable. But no one was here tonight. It was Saturday, and besides, most of the town was getting ready to head to the debate. Which was where he would be soon, too. It would never occur to anyone that he’d made a stop first.

Plus, he was the citizenship-award winner. No one would suspect him.

That didn’t keep his stomach from churning as he turned off the ignition and slid out of the driver’s seat, his feet landing softly on the pavement. He winced at the sound of the door clicking shut, looking around to make sure no one had heard him.

But of course, there was no one around. The night was quiet. The school sat dark and still, the empty lot a sea of open spaces. Just as he’d planned.

Five minutes, he promised himself. Just a quick in and out. And then he’d never have to think about his stupid mistake ever again.

The doors to the school were locked, but Shawn had thought ahead. Friday afternoon, before he left, he’d stopped by the office, claiming he’d forgotten a book that morning. While he pretended to look for it, he unlatched a window, then moved a stack of trays in front of it so that no one would notice.

Pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt, he went around the side of the building and counted windows, picturing the inside of the office. The unlocked window was sluggish—these windows didn’t get opened very often—but reluctantly conceded a few inches, then a few more. After some coaxing, he was able to open it wide enough to hoist himself up and in.

The office was nearly black. Shawn switched on the flashlight he carried in his back pocket, keeping it aimed low as he made his way toward Mr. Warren’s office. Everything felt different in the dark. His sleeve brushed some papers hanging off the edge of a counter, sending them tumbling to the floor with a loud flutter. Shawn jumped, banging into a table, his heart racing in his throat as he tried not to scream. He stood there for a second, hand on his chest, his breaths coming in rapid gasps.

Just some papers. Not a person. Everything’s fine.

Carefully, he crouched down, picked up the papers, and replaced them on the counter, hoping the order didn’t matter.

He continued to the guidance office, keeping his elbows tucked close by his sides so he didn’t knock into anything else. The door opened with a loud creak, causing him to grit his teeth. He wished he’d thought to bring some WD-40 with him.

Once he was inside, he shut it behind him with a soft click. Almost there.

Mr. Warren kept his desk well organized, making Shawn’s task easy. The list was sitting in a wire tray labeled IN PROGRESS, tucked inside a manila folder. As McMillain had said, it was a list of locker numbers of every student who had patronized locker 247, beside which McMillain had penciled in dates and subjects. Someone else—Mr. Warren, probably—had started filling in names beside the locker numbers, starting at the top of the page. Shawn scanned quickly down the list, holding his breath, but was relieved to see the space beside his locker number was still blank.