Expelled(29)



I look around me in the darkness. Sasha’s yard is rose-less, but her neighbor’s yard has masses of towering, fragrant bushes. And even though it lacks imagination, I pick six beautiful yellow blooms, and I lay them in a bundle on her front step—an apology for how I acted at Matheson’s.

A few weeks ago I would have felt awful about stealing someone’s roses. But, as we’ve already established, shit changes.





27


It’s 7:00 a.m. and I need coffee like I’ve never needed anything before. Too bad there’s not a single bean left in the house—there’s just a note from my mom:


Drank the last French roast and ate the last granola bar. Sorry, I swear I'll get to the store today!



I send Jude an SOS text, and a little while later, he rattles up in Zelda. “I must love you very much to get out of bed this early,” he says, shaking his head.

“I’m texting Felix, too,” I say. “Coffee first, then our next interview.” Last night taught me that if I don’t prove my innocence, I really don’t have much of a future—here or anywhere.

“Oh, goody, I can’t wait,” Jude says. “That last one went so well.”

“No sarcasm until after I’m caffeinated.”

We drive to Five Points, and Jude goes inside while I loiter near a rusting bike rack. It’s a cool, cloudy morning, and I can see, from across the intersection, my former classmates heading into school. It feels like months since I was there, too, walking alongside them.

Someone brushes past me on the sidewalk, and I look up to see Todd Wittig, who used to sit next to me in pre-calc.

“Hey, Todd,” I call, but he doesn’t turn around. His shoulders hunch and he starts walking faster toward school. “Really?” I hear myself yelling after him. “Really?”

His arm lifts then, in what might be a half wave—or not. It might mean Piss off.

I never thought expulsion would turn me into such an outcast. If I’d really considered it—which obviously I hadn’t—I might’ve guessed it’d make me just a little bit cool. Dropping out of school meant you were a loser, but getting kicked out meant you were a rebel. Shouldn’t that be kind of intriguing to people?

Apparently not.

I glance inside the coffee shop. Jude’s in line right ahead of Jenna Tucker and Lulu Trinh, who are unsurprisingly ignoring him.

Then Felix rolls up on his skateboard and stops, popping it up into his hand. “You guys just don’t quit, do you?” he says.

“We can’t afford to,” I say. “And we really need you.”

Felix sighs. “Make it quick. I don’t want to be late.”

“I had an idea last night. What about Parker’s ex, Hailey? He broke up with her on Snapchat, and the whole school found out about it. That’s humiliating.”

“That’s definitely cold,” Felix says. “But she seems like a nice girl. Not exactly the vindictive type.”

Jude appears with my quadruple-shot Americano. “Hailey Page? Underneath that sweet exterior is the heart of a viper,” he says.

“How do you know that?” Felix asks.

“They used to go to summer camp together,” I say. “Jude won’t say anything more about it.”

“Come on, fess up,” Felix says.

Jude shakes his head. “No way. Lips sealed.”

“The point is, she might know something,” I say, “so we should talk to her.”

The Arlington bell rings the ten-minute warning, and I feel myself pulled toward the sprawling brick building. For almost three years I heard that bell and hurried toward my homeroom. I can remember the weight of the backpack on my back and the squeak of tennis shoes on the polished concrete floors. I can almost feel the crush of people in the halls, the guys calling out to one another and slapping each other on the shoulder, the girls giddy to be reunited like they hadn’t just seen each other yesterday afternoon.

It’s like I’m on the other side of a high, invisible wall from them.

But not for long.

“All right, boys,” I say, clapping my hands together. “Ready to go to school?”





28


“This is completely and utterly insane,” Jude says, and I know that he’s right. But I push open the doors anyway.

And it’s just like in the movies—the hall gets dead quiet, and everyone turns to look at us.

“Come on,” I whisper. The three of us walk quickly through the path that’s been cleared for us. Felix is softly cursing, probably because he can’t believe he’s following me. And Jude—wild, goofy Jude—he starts waving to everyone like he’s still their beloved Fighting Tiger.

We just need to find Hailey before a teacher—or, worse, Palmieri—finds us. We pass the office without anyone stopping us, and then we hurry past the trophy case in the main hall, where Parker’s face smiles out from a photograph of last year’s state champion football team.

“Hailey’s homeroom is upstairs,” Jude says. “I think it’s 211.”

I wish her room were closer to an exit, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I check my watch. We have six minutes until the bell rings.

When we get to the right room, Felix pokes his head in and tells Hailey he needs to talk to her.

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