Part 4 (1/2)
”And?”
”And let me help you. I'll find out this guy's deal.”
”There is no deal. I was just curious,” I remind him.
”So, let me un un-curious you.” He smiles wider, smoothing back a strand of his dirty-blond hair. ”I have connections, you know.” He winks at me, all covertlike. ”It's the least I can do as thanks for helping me out with French.”
”Well, don't lose any sleep over it or anything.”
He nods. His eyes linger a moment on my flushed cheeks. We make plans to study together Monday night. ”I'll swing by after my movie date with Rena,” he says. ”Did you know the theater downtown shows. .h.i.tchc.o.c.k flicks every Monday afternoon?”
I shake my head. ”I didn't even know you were dating Rena Maruso.” Pretty, pert, pet.i.te, good-at-science Rena Maruso.
”Well, yeah,” he says, like it's so incredibly yesterday's news.
And, no, it's not that I'm jealous. I just don't want to hear about Rena Maruso, or anyone else who might be dating my ex, for that matter-especially when said ex is being so so nice, almost making me forget why we broke up in the first place. nice, almost making me forget why we broke up in the first place.
Almost.
11.
It's the last block of the day, and everyone's talking about Ben's locker. Sometime before lunch there was another sign left on it. Only this time, Ben couldn't just tear it down. Someone had written the words Killer Go Home Killer Go Home down the length of the door in permanent black marker. down the length of the door in permanent black marker.
The sign was up there for two full hours before Mr. Snell, the school princ.i.p.al, ordered a janitor to come and cover it up with a few strokes of red paint.
”Remember last year,” Kimmie says, applying a fresh coat of my peach-colored lip gloss, ”when Polly Piranha got vandalized?”
Since our English teacher is out sick today, Kimmie, Wes, and I have the rare treat of an extra free block. And so we're sitting in the courtyard behind the school- basically a glorified asphalt driveway with a bunch of picnic tables set up-pretending to do our homework.
I laugh, still able to picture it-the giant wooden cutout of a piranha, our school mascot, with b.o.o.bs spray-painted right over her fins. Poor Polly had apparently sat in the same spot by the football field for more than thirty years, and this was the first time she'd sported hooters.
”Yeah,” I say, ”but in that case Snell had her taken down within minutes.”
”A d.a.m.ned shame.” Wes shakes his head. ”Those were some nice hooters.”
”The only ones you'll ever see up close,” Kimmie says.
”Um, excuse me, but haven't you ever heard of Playboy Playboy?” he asks.
”Haven't you you ever heard of ever heard of hard-up hard-up boy?” boy?”
”I wonder how the truth even leaked out about Ben,” I say, cutting through their banter.
”Are you kidding?” Wes squawks. ”This is a small town, with even smaller minds. A guy can't even scratch the wrong way without people suspecting he's got a killer case of the crabs.”
”Something you want to tell us about?” Kimmie asks.
Wes gives her the middle-finger nose scratch.
”Well, if this town is so small,” I ask, ”how come n.o.body told me Matt was dating Rena Maruso?”
”What?” Kimmie's jaw drops.
”Apparently true. I talked to him earlier.”
”Not true,” Kimmie protests. ”Rena's in my Spanish cla.s.s. The girl tells me everything.”
”Maybe she only tells you some some things,” Wes says. things,” Wes says.
”Or maybe Matt's trying to make you jealous,” Kimmie says. ”It's the oldest trick in the book.”
”Well, whatever,” I say, eager to get back to business. ”I've been asking people about him.”
”Matt?” Kimmie perks up.
”No, Ben.”
”Okay, so, no offense,” she says, ”but does this fascination with Ben have anything to do with you deciding to give up your senior-citizen way of life?”
”Senior citizen?”
”Yeah, you know, safe, habitual, carefully planned, doesn't like surprises, likes to be in before dark-”
”You have to admit, you are a bit of an old lady,” Wes adds.
”Of course, we love that about you,” Kimmie insists.
”Right,” Wes says. ”I mean, who doesn't love their grandma? And it could explain your sudden fixation with Danger Boy.”
”Hold up,” Kimmie says. ”If Ben were a real real danger boy, who danger boy, who really really killed his girlfriend, do you honestly think they'd allow him back in school?” killed his girlfriend, do you honestly think they'd allow him back in school?”
”You don't think he did it?” I ask.
”What I think is that you're starting to sound just a tad bit obsessed.”
”Well, it's a little hard not to be. I mean, Ben's name is everywhere-in practically every conversation.”
”In practically every girl's worst nightmare,” Wes says, creepifying his voice by making it superdeep. He uses a pencil as a makes.h.i.+ft knife to jab at the air.
”Well, dangerous or not,” Kimmie says, popping a fireball candy into her mouth, ”the boy is hot-for an alleged killer, that is.”