Chapter 3: Trouble

The next day, he shows up very late to first period, but he still shows up about twenty minutes before the end of class. Those twenty minutes feel so long- I avoid his gaze studiously, and it feels like I'm sweating bullets. Mr. Hawkes doesn't call on him, and after class he pulls him aside. I book it out of the classroom and head straight for the calculus classroom. He doesn't come, even though I know (since yesterday) that we're in the same calculus class. It only makes me more nervous, and I make a beeline for my locker as soon as the lunch bell rings.

It doesn't seem to matter. He knows where my locker is, and it's lunchtime, and I have nowhere to go anyways. I spot him coming from down the hallway and immediately zip my bag up and slam my locker closed, clicking the lock into place and starting to speed walk in the opposite direction.

Again, it doesn't seem to matter. He's taller than me, and he has long legs. He catches up easily and casually settles an arm around my shoulder. I keep walking stiffly, my gaze trained straight ahead.

"You told."

I swallow and don't respond. He waits for a few moments, before asking, "Why?"

He doesn't sound angry, or confused, or bitter. He sounds genuinely curious. I force myself not to look at him. I clench my jaw and don't answer.

"None of the teachers can really do anything to me. You know that. So why?"

"Not everyone is invincible."

"You thought you'd get in trouble?"

"Yes. I would have."

"How? You're only in trouble if you get caught. I wouldn't have said anything."

Oh, of course he's one of those people. Saying 'you're only in trouble if you get caught' is the worst reason to do something that would get you in trouble if anyone found out. Because people do find out. You will get caught. Always. And if you don't- how do you even live, knowing you're keeping a secret like that? Knowing that you would be in trouble if you ever did get caught? How do you sleep at night? How are you not constantly paranoid?

"Is it because you've gotten accustomed to the label of being the teacher's pet? So now you think you have to live up to it?"

"No," I snap, slapping his arm off my shoulder.

He circles in front of me so he's facing me and stops walking. Panic races through me- did I go too far? Is he going to yell at me, or scold me, or patronize me?

After a moment, my panic ebbs a little bit, because he doesn't say anything. I could just walk around him- but his gaze nails me to the spot. He's doing that thing again, where he looks like he's searching my face. I swallow and shift my weight to my other foot uncomfortably. I don't want to push him any further, because he might be angry at me already and he's known for being eccentric and often unreasonable or ridiculous, so if he is already mad, well, I don't want to set him off by saying anything more- but I also want him to leave me alone. Why is he talking to me? Why now? Because I take 'good notes' and he wants to cheat off me?

"Fascinating," he murmurs under his breath, and I suddenly feel a little like a specimen under a microscope during a biology practical exam. It makes me even more uncomfortable, and a little angry- just because he's rich doesn't mean he can do whatever he likes to the rest of us. That little burst of discomfort and annoyance propels me to move again, so I swallow and march around him without a word.

But of course, he can't just leave me alone. That would be too reasonable. I can hear him walking behind me, but he doesn't make any move to walk beside me again or make conversation. A moment later, I feel a sharp poke at the bottom of my spine and I jump, nearly dropping my bag. I stop and turn, still feeling aftershocks of the jolt running through me.

"What do you want?"

He's grinning again, but he doesn't say anything, just continues examining me intently with that stupid smile. I glare at him before tightening my grip on the straps of my backpack and turning to storm off.

I don't continue storming for very long- I stop as soon as I realize there are other people in the hallways and quickly make my way to the nearest bathroom.

My nerves are shot. I feel jittery and it takes me a full two minutes to feel normal again. Why did he put his arm around my shoulder? Why did he keep looking at me like he was reading my thoughts straight off my face? Why did he poke me in the back? This is so, so stupid. I hate all of this. Him. Stupid eccentric millionaire.

He doesn't show up to physics. It makes me more anxious. Ms. Jenson doesn't look like she knows if she should be happy or angry that he didn't come to class.

He also isn't performing ridiculous stunts with an overly loud car by the time school's out. It's not unprecedented to any extent- he often leaves school at lunch if he comes to morning classes. It doesn't keep me from feeling jittery at his absence, as though it's my fault. What would that even mean? Would he want me to apologize? Offer my notes? What the heck goes on in his brain?

I arrive home to an empty house, as usual, and go up to my room to do homework and study. I can't focus, though. I just want to know what he was thinking about, what he wants from me- if he wants anything. I even asked him what he wanted, and he didn't say anything. Just stared at my face like he was doing a crossword puzzle.

I shake my head, hoping it might clear my thoughts. It doesn't. It just makes my head feel heavier for a moment and then sore for a little longer. I groan and massage my temples, not sure if I'm doing it for my self-inflicted headache or my agitated thoughts.

I fight this battle with myself for hours. When I hear the back door to the house open, my stomach fills with dread. I haven't gotten much done at all- usually I've finished my homework hours ago and have gotten at least an hour's worth of studying done. I swallow anxiously and slowly leave my room, going down the stairs to face my parents.

"Hello, sweetie," my mom says, planting a kiss on my forehead as she puts away her coat and bags.

"Son," my dad says, giving me a smile, nod, and affectionate clap on the back. "How was school? That boy didn't try to cheat off of you again?"

Yes, I told my parents. I tell my parents everything about school. I don't want them to be surprised by anything my teachers might tell them, unless it's something good.

"He didn't. Mr. Hawkes talked to him in first period, and he skipped calculus and physics."

My mom clicks her tongue. "One of those bad kids, skipping classes and cheating off of the good students. I just don't think those children get brought up properly by their parents."

My dad nods his agreement. "That's a person who won't be going to university, I can tell you that much. He'll probably spend the rest of his life working at a restaurant."

I don't tell them that he's already a millionaire and probably won't spend the rest of his life working at all. It's not important. And if I try to argue with them, they'll tell me that he has rich parents and that's why he's trying to cheat off of me; because he's rich and spoiled and used to not having to work. And if I already know what they're going to say, why bother prompting it?

"In any case, I'm glad he isn't bothering you anymore. You stay away from his kind, okay?" My mom ruffles my hair as I nod. "You're such a good student."

"And you'll be much more successful than him," my dad adds. "Because you have a solid work ethic. That's one of the most important things in life."

I continue to nod along, though the pit of dread in my stomach is tightening and making me feel a little nauseous. Clearly, my 'work ethic' isn't good enough to keep me focused on finishing my homework that's due tomorrow. I don't even want to imagine the expression on both of their faces- they'd be disappointed for sure. And they'd blame it on the boy cheating off of my notes in class, guaranteed. Which isn't entirely false, but it's also my fault for letting it distract me.

The next morning, I wake up early and finish my homework before walking to school.

What did you think of the millionaire confronting Todd for telling on him? And then the way he looked at Todd afterwards? How about his disappearance for the rest of the day? Todd not being able to study? What about his conversation with his parents?

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