Page 26 of The Rebel of Raleigh High

“They call them ‘homes for boys’ now. I stayed in one from the age of six until I was eleven. After that, I bounced around in the foster system for a while.That was fun.”

The girl looks bewildered. Her mouth falls open wide enough to tell me that she can’t figure out if I’m fucking with her or not. I should put her out of her misery. Tell her it was a joke. That would be the kind, if dishonest, thing to do, but fuck…I’ve never been accused of being kind.

She shifts awkwardly on the bench, swiveling around to face the table properly. “That sounds like an interesting childhood.”

“Oh, yeah. Fucking fascinating.” I jam the burger into my mouth, taking a massive bite. Zen watches me, horrified, as I plow through my meal. I don’t bother looking up from my tray, even when three other people—two guys and a girl—come and sit with us. Eventually, I surface from my food and lock eyes with Halliday; she gives me a warning glare, nostrils flared, and the look conveys her thoughts perfectly:Please, dear God, do not breathe a single word about what happened last night. Please, please, fuckingplease.

I give her a single raise of my eyebrows, mentally telling her to chill the fuck out, then I grab my tray and stand.

“Hey, dude. What kind of motorcycle is that anyway?” the guy on the left asks. His name is David, or Daniel, or Diego or something.

“It’s an Indian. A Scout.”

“Huh. My old man says anyone who rides a motorcycle must have a death wish.”

I grunt as I leave the table. “Yeah. Your old man’s probably right.”

It feels like an eternity passes after lunch. I’m torn; I can’t wait to get the fuck out of this hell hole, with its clean bathrooms, and horribly healthy, wholesome-looking students who smile way too damn much, but I’m also looking forward to staying, too. Because once that bell rings at two-thirty, all of these assholes are gonna file out of here and I’ll get to spend an hour with Silver.

She’s going to follow through on the lesson. She will. I know she will. I’m so confident that she’s going to be there when I enter the music room at two thirty-five that I’m honestly a little confused when I show up only to find the place deserted. I even check the sound booth cubicles to see if she’s waiting for me in there. It takes me a second to really understand that she’s stood me up. I run my tongue over my teeth, leaving the music room, heading in the direction of the admin office, where all the student records are kept.

Okay, Silver.

It’s like that, is it?

Well, two can play that game.