Sea Stolen

Chapter 7 - Hi

Perrin Anne High could easily be likened to a holding cell for future delinquents. Walking down the corridor Kat passed a scruffy teen sprawled out asleep under a table and a circle of thirteen year olds gambling with a game of poker, a pile of tenners and cigarettes in the middle.  Yet more people contributing to the smell of smoke permanently haunting the school. She dodged past a small fight – two guys hair pulling and trying to scratch each other - crashing from wall to wall and punctuated by curses.

Her friend Dylan leaned against the lockers playing with a knife and tapping his foot impatiently. Tall, dark and dangerous. Or so people thought. "The bad-boy player" of the school was just a pretty teen who built up a reputation through silence. The kind of silence people couldn't help but fill up with stories. Enigmatic, brooding, lonely . . .  It was said he could seduce you with a stare, that he spent the summer sleeping with models in London, that he'd made girls fall in love with him with a single "Hi".

Kat knew he could barely string a sentence together in a girl's presence. The poor kid would just sweat buckets and repeat a stuttered "H-hello . . . " 

But she'd known him forever. Known him to the point where she was family and therefore not a part of the terrifying female population.

He looked up through long dark lashes and shot her a smirk. "Mia Spencer asked me out on Gillian Wells' behalf. Gillian as in double DDs and wears a thong."

"So that's why you ran away and are hiding here?" said Kat, "Also don't be so misogynistic, it doesn't suit you and I can't be bothered giving you a black eye today."

The cocky attitude crumpled like the utter forgery it was. "Gillian scares me," said Dylan, dropping the smirk and looking worried. His voice turned to a whisper, "And Kat I don't understand thongs. Just . . . they're so tiny . . ."

Kat smiled, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Finally, the truth." She kicked his tapping foot then snatching the pocket knife, "Don't worry little brother I've got your back. I'll give her "you're dead looks" every time I pass her."

"I'm two months older than you," Dylan grumbled as she opened her locker. The door was a jumble of misspelt graffiti and dents.

"In age alone," she replied - sometimes she swore he was still a five year old - "Hey pass me your maths jotter, I want to check you've been doing your homework." She turned to raise an eyebrow and give him a don't-mess-with-me stare that made him flinch.

"What are you, my mum?" he folded his arms and tried to look imposing. Bless his heart he even flipped his artfully mused black hair for uncaring effect.

"Don't pout. Your damn good with numbers and that talent could take you places. You could be a half decent maths teacher in some nice high school up north. Maybe even a not-that -great professor. The rest of us will be stuck stacking shelves or in the post office till we're pensioners." That was best case scenario. The employment figures for Perrin Anne grads were in minus numbers. Rarely more than 1 in 20 even left the tiny town. Kat doubted she'd be one of the lucky, gifted few. Unless she swam away . . .

"Fine, fine, Scary," said Dylan fishing inside his black and white tipex doodled back pack.

Kat rolled her eyes, but smiled a little inside and turned back to her locker.

Hi Kat

She blinked for several seconds at the postit note stuck on the inside of her locker. There was an almost manic smiley face written below the greeting.

 She ripped it down and tried to decipher some meaning. A joke? A really boring prank? A threat?

"Kat!"

Caught off guard she whirled round, shoving the note in her pocket, "What?!"

"Jesus, don't bite my head off! Here, proof, I did the homework, utterly boring, but completed," Dylan held out the crumpled jotter towards her, confusion and the beginnings of worry etched in the wrinkle between his eye brows.

She flipped through it trying to clear her head space.  

"Anyways, are you coming to Nicky's tonight?" said Dylan, foot resuming it's tapping.

Kat didn't look up from checking to see he hadn't just written random numbers."His fridge is always filled with good take-out leftovers, he has five spare rooms and Mario cart, how could you possibly imagine I wouldn't go."

The bell for third period rang. She snapped up from evaluating then tossed the jotter back to him. Kat slammed her locker shut, glared around the area then turned back to Dylan.

The frown had returned, "You look paranoid."

"I prefer the term cautious and prepared for violence," said Kat. She slung an arm over his shoulder, "Now let's go fill our young minds with education." She dragged him on, chattering and chattering, but mind never quite leaving the little note or the shiver down the spine feeling of being watched.