Hush Money Excerpt

Hush Money part 4

Joss

How bad does it have to get before I can call it the worst day ever?

First Krista, then freakin’ Dobbs, and then Mr. Hanson. He’d cornered me after Chem to talk to me about my lousy performance on the latest test. My dad was going to have a fit about that. Bad grades, like outstanding grades, draw attention. A solid B average is the thing to aim for. Anyway, the impromptu summary of the covalent-whatever deal—which I still didn’t get—had delayed me in my usual pre-lunch routine, and gotten me nabbed by a hall monitor. Do Not Pass Go, do not sneak up to your usual hideout, go directly to theFifth Circleof Hell, otherwise known as the cafeteria.

It’s not like I’d never been to the cafeteria before. I used to have to eat there when I was a freshman, for a few very long months, anyway, before I figured out how to avoid it. I remembered now that the best caf’ strategy was to take your lunch with you to the class before so you could race down there, as inconspicuously as possible, and claim an empty table. It was ok for later arrivals to sit at your table, which they might do, crowding together on the opposite side like you have a disease, but whatever. As long as you got there first, you didn’t have to ask to sit at anyone else’s table—and risk being told no, because what’s more humiliating than that? Sometimes people would just take all the chairs from your table and carry them off to other tables, and that’s sort of embarrassing too, but not as bad if you don’t let it get to you and remind yourself that lunching alone is a valid lifestyle choice. On the whole, though, the cafeteria is a bad scene and to be avoided whenever possible.

So there I was, standing in the doorway, taking a quick scan of the room and scoping things out. I still had a notebook and textbook for Chem, so I moved them to carry them under my arm. Because you can’t be holding books in front of you like a shield. It’s way girly and makes people think you’re scared. Posturing is very important in the wild; watch a few documentaries, you’ll see.

I couldn’t spend too much time hovering, because that was only going to draw attention, so I just plunged in and hoped for the best. The caf’ was friggin’ chaos as usual. I think I have a low tolerance for chaos. I kept scanning, knowing that I wasn’t going to find an empty table, but hoped maybe I’d see an empty space near someone I was at least on speaking terms with, and could come up with some burning question I had to ask. It’s hard to look around for such a specific situation while still trying to avoid eye contact, let me tell you.

And then I saw it. There were two chairs just standing there in the corner against the wall. One was pushed all the way into the corner and facing out into the room, the other facing the corner. I could sit with my back to the room, put my boots up on the one in the corner, prop my textbook up on my knees, and pretend like I just had to absorb some chemistry knowledge. Perfect.

Except for the fact that I had to pass Marco’s table, and I was so excited about the chairs that I didn’t even notice him until my books flew out from under my arm and hit the floor. I think I knew what happened before I even saw him. Some kind of prey recognizes predator right before it gets eaten kind of thing.

“Oops,” he said, in that obnoxious, I so meant to do that way.

I had to squat down to pick up the books, because of course papers went flying out of my notebook when it landed. Thankfully they didn’t go far and I didn’t actually have to go crawling under tables for them.

“Sorry about that, Joss.”

“Sure.”

“Surprised to see you here.”

I didn’t answer. I had some answers in my head; it just seemed better to keep my mouth shut and move on.

“You never come here for lunch. Are you meeting your girlfriend? Why don’t you bring her over? Jeff, get a couple chairs for Joss and her new girlfriend.”