Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(8)
“So, how about we meet up after school in the library?” He starts a slow progression toward the hall, and I fall into step.
“Sounds good. Thanks.” I try to sound more grateful than unsure. When we part ways just outside the classroom, it takes everything within my power not to look back over my shoulder at him.
…
I make it through the day without incident after first period. No one even really notices me, and I try not to notice anyone else. I can’t decide if I like the anonymity of near-invisibility or if I wish someone would notice me, speak to me. The day drags on, until meeting Hottie McMathTutor in the library has become the bright spot at the end of my school-day tunnel, and when I finally step through the wide double doors, I scan my surroundings in search of him.
He’s seated at a round table toward the back, past rows upon rows of books but within sight of the doors. And his eyes light on me immediately. Has he been watching the doors for me? And if so, for how long?
“Hey!” His smile is miles wide when he greets me, and he even stands to push out the chair next to him for me.
“Hey,” I return as I settle in and pull out my textbook. “Thanks for agreeing to help me…” I drift off because I don’t know what to call him.
“No problem. Happy to help.”
“I don’t know your name,” I admit.
“I’m Will. Campbell.”
“Thanks…Will.” I test the name and like it. It suits him.
“So, where do you feel like you need the most help?” He opens his book and turns to today’s lesson.
I don’t meet him on the same page in my own book, though. Instead, I start at the beginning and sift through previous lessons until I reach something I don’t know. I’m an entire unit, plus three more lessons, behind. I point to the page. “We definitely have our work cut out for us.”
He smiles sympathetically. “No worries. We’ll get you all caught up in no time.”
For the next hour, he walks me through concepts I don’t know, and I do my best to absorb the information. His proximity is a huge distraction, though, and every time he leans over my scratch paper to check my work, the feel of his radiant body heat sets off a chain reaction of goose bumps down my entire left side.
“So, your math is good. No problems there,” Will says as he closes his book at the end of our little tutoring session. “I think it’s just that Mrs. Leonard likes to teach an advanced class, and your old school must have gone at the normal pace.”
Something like that. I definitely feel more confident now that he’s run me through a few lessons. But I’m not quite caught up yet. “Yeah, it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”
“I do think we should keep working together, at least until you’re all caught up.”
My insides warm at the idea of spending more time with Will, and my brain briefly flashes through the possibility of pretending I’m not picking up the material as quickly as I am so I can stretch out our tutoring. But I’m not that type of girl. That kind of artifice isn’t my thing.
I duck my head so he won’t see me blushing while I pack up my things, and when I’m all done, I follow him out of the library. “I need to stop by my locker,” I say and half turn in that direction. We’ll probably part ways here, since my locker is in the opposite direction from the front of the school.
“Okay, cool.” He steps forward to fill the space next to me and waits. “Which way?”
He’s coming with me? The idea that he’s not ready to go our separate ways yet sets a little flutter in the pit of my stomach, but I’m not sure I understand why he’s sticking around. Maybe he doesn’t have anything better to do.
My locker is basically within throwing distance of the library, and when we get there, I get down to the business of spinning my combination. But the lock doesn’t open when I pull it. I try again, with the same result. By the fifth unsuccessful try, it’s pretty obvious I’m not completely clear on my actual combination. I shoot a sheepish look in Will’s direction and mentally run through my options: carry eleventy billion books I don’t need all the way home with me only to turn around and lug them all back to school in the morning, sit here and try every variation of what I think my combination might be, or hack the lock.
I shoot a side glance in Will’s direction to size up the situation. He’s leaning casually against the row of lockers a few feet away and looking down the hallway in the opposite direction.
I can’t pop the padlock without him noticing. “Hey, you don’t need to wait with me. This could take a while,” I tell him.
He considers me for a long moment, then says, “Okay. See you later.” His voice is flat, and for the briefest moment as he turns and strolls away, I feel a twinge of guilt. The poor guy probably thinks I’m giving him the brush-off, when really I just want to break into my own locker without him seeing.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I head for the nearest vending machine and buy a can of soda. I take a hearty swig, but the carbonation rolling down my throat is like swallowing a golf ball covered in fire ants. Big gulps are out and small sips won’t get me an empty can quick enough, so I dump the rest into the nearest garbage can and dig out my key ring. I find my little pocketknife disguised as a regular key and flick it open, then set to work on the can, cutting a smallish rectangle from the metal and shaping it into an M. Then I fold it into a quasi-sturdy strip with a point in the middle.