Time Bomb(28)

Rashid lifted his eyes and met Tad’s. “If you want to believe I’m a bad person, I can’t stop you. But I for one do not wish to die in this building, and I especially do not want to spend my last minutes with you.”

Tad stood tense—heart pounding and ready to fight. But Rashid didn’t rush him or reach for his bag or anything threatening. He just looked at Tad with a sadness that made Tad think of the way his brother had looked at him last year when their dog had died. Then Rashid walked backwards and slowly eased down the hall, never turning his back on Tad. Twice Rashid glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t going to run into something, but he didn’t reach for his phone or do anything else threatening. He just moved farther and farther away.

Tad looked down at the board in his hand. His stomach turned. If Rashid had taken just one step toward him, Tad would have clocked him with the splintered wood. He would have beaten him until Rashid was no longer a threat. He’d never gotten into a fight at school or pummeled anyone. How many times had he walked away or ignored things the team was doing because he didn’t want them to turn on him?

But he’d stood here, ready to fight Rashid. A guy who rarely spoke. When he did, it was never more than one sentence at a time in that quiet way he had. The dude never yelled or flipped out. Not even when Nicco and J.R. tripped him last year in the cafeteria or when the others called him names and bumped him into lockers as they passed in the halls. He just put his head down and kept walking. Rashid never showed that he was upset. He never struck back, even though he had to be pissed. Tad would have been.

So maybe the guy had a good reason to want to make people at this school pay. Maybe that’s why he had blown the crap out of this place. To get even for all the names he was called and the slights he’d suffered. Maybe that’s why he was acting so strange now and was lying about calling 911.

Or maybe—just maybe—he was trapped in this hell, scared and confused, just like Tad, and wasn’t telling the truth because Tad had never given him a reason to trust him.

His chest tightened as Rashid continued down the long hallway. Rashid’s words pricked at him like the splinters in the board he held in his hands. Because they felt like the truth. And if they were, what did that make Tad?

“Hey,” Tad called as Rashid tried the handle of one of the classroom doors. Still holding the board, Tad stalked toward him. “I’m not a racist.”

Rashid didn’t look back at him and instead went to the next door and tried the handle.

“Hey!” Tad yelled as Rashid tugged on the door. “Did you hear me? I’m not a racist. Bombs have been set off, and you look different now and lied about calling 911. What do you expect me to think?”

“What I expect is for you to think and say exactly what you did,” Rashid said, leaning against the door, which wouldn’t budge. His bag slid off his shoulder and caught Tad’s eye. The guy had brought that bag out of the bathroom with him. What was in the bag that was so important?

Tad didn’t move as Rashid said, “I don’t expect you to be any different from your friends.”

The bag slipped lower on Rashid’s arm, and Tad lunged forward. He grabbed the strap as Rashid yanked himself and the bag backwards. “What are you doing?”

“Who did you call?” Tad shouted as he pulled Rashid off balance. “Show me!” he yelled. “If you don’t have anything to hide, you shouldn’t have any problem letting me see what’s in your bag.”

Tad tightened his grip on the black backpack. Rashid was pulling hard, but Tad had at least thirty pounds on Rashid and a lot of football training. This time when Tad tugged on the bag, he leaned his whole body back. The strap snapped. Tad stumbled back, tripped over a broken tile, and crashed into an open locker. Tad yelped and scrambled for the bag, which had landed not far from him. He reached for the zipper as Rashid charged forward and yelled, “Give it back!”

“No way in hell.” He was going to prove Rashid was hiding something important. He was lying, and Tad was going to prove that he wasn’t wrong for feeling threatened. He wasn’t like the guys on the team who lashed out just because someone wasn’t like them.

Tad juggled the bag and tugged the zipper down as Rashid grabbed the side and pulled. The backpack gaped open. Tad lost his grip, and everything inside fell out.

Tad dived to the side, covered his head, and held his breath in case anything in the bag exploded when it hit the ground.

Nothing happened.

No explosion. No fizzle. Nothing.

Tad opened his eyes. Rashid was staring down at the floor with an expression Tad couldn’t read. Then slowly Rashid squatted down and reached for the bag that had fallen at his feet.

“Foolish,” Rashid said in a flat voice. “It was foolish to come here today. I should have known better.”

Tad looked at the items that had spilled out of the bag and to the ground.

A brush.

A bottle of hair gel.

Some notebooks.

Rashid grabbed a can of shaving cream and something else that had rolled under a piece of broken board and shoved both back into the bag, along with clothes and a bottle of water and a bunch of comic books.

Then Rashid reached for the phone.

“Let me have that,” Tad demanded.

Rashid looked at the phone, then back to Tad. “Fine. You want it? Here.”