The Rule Breakers

Chapter 9

Skylar

The principal's office is at the end of the hallway, exactly where it was when I tried to pick the lock a week ago. No bobby pins will be involved this time because Bad Influence Riley is here with the stolen spare key. If Mrs. Lionel noticed the backup was missing, she hasn't made any announcement about it yet. Once she notices, she'll probably think she misplaced it and just make a new copy of her current key. In a school this big, there would be no reason for her to suspect either me or Riley.

"Stay out here," my partner in crime instructs once we're in front of her office. The lights in the hallway came on as we walked through, but if we're still enough, they'll go off again. Observing the lights will be my first telltale sign that someone is in the hallway. 

I've already planned out exactly what will go down like the good security I am.   

"I'll text you if I spot someone coming in this direction," I explain. "If you don't respond, I'll knock twice on the door to get your attention. Find somewhere to hide in the office, maybe below the desk."

"Woah, woah," Riley lifts his hands. "We aren't playing Spy Kids here."

I frown, knowing my plan is totally reasonable. I ask, "What else do you have in mind if someone comes?"

"I could just walk out?"

"So you are insane. Got it."

His laugh is deep, and my ears perk at the sound. A warm wave of something flows through me, but I ignore it. I hardly know this guy, none of his laughs should give me any sort of feeling.

Coolly, he slides the key into the lock. With a single twist, it's open. He yanks it out, stuffs it back into his pocket, and gives me a dumb smirk over his shoulder. His confidence is impressive, yet a bit unnerving. Knowing what I know about him, observing him in our shared literature class, and the rare conversations between us at school, I can tell his ego is already too inflated. He acts like one of those leather-wearing jacket boys from Grease. 

"Alright, cool guy. I don't have all day," I say. 

The door shuts behind him, leaving me alone in the empty hallway.

Being at school after hours is weird. Looking down the row of classrooms and seeing no bodies shoving about makes my stomach turn. It's much larger in the dark emptiness than it is when it's littered with teens. I don't know how I didn't notice the ghostliness of it all last weekend. With everyone being in the gym, and the parking lot full of cars, it probably felt less abandoned than it does now.

My stomach growls loudly, taking away from my fears, and I swear it echoes in the hall. 

I turn to peer into the door's window. Riley kept the office lights off, so it's hard to see him as he leans into the computer screen. His dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he keeps having to push it back with one hand. At some point, he gets tired of moving it away and uses one hand to type as the other hand keeps his hair up. I smile to myself as I watch him struggle with his hair, a gesture so small yet so human.

The computer turns off, and I think it must be by accident. But then he's pushing away from the desk, stretching his back out. His head turns toward me as though he knew I was peeking through the window all along, observing him. A flush rises up my neck, and I'm sure my cheeks are as red as they feel, but I don't move. Neither does he, locked in a bizarre staring contest.

He blinks, and I stupidly wave at him like a child.

The door opens, and after he's turned around and locked it, we're walking back down the hall. The entire thing took only a few minutes, way easier than it should've been.

What was I so afraid of?

"How did you learn to break into the computer like that?" I ask as we continue toward the staircase.

He shrugs. "My friend TJ did it all last week. I watched and caught on."

"That fast?" The minute anyone shows me anything, it escapes my mind immediately. The fact he can learn how to change information in a student's file in under ten minutes seems impressive to me.

"I'm pretty observant," he explains. "My brain takes in information and stores it for later."

"Don't all brains do that?"

"I'd hope so," he laughs. "But I'm a quick learner. Always have been."

Can't relate. I don't want him to know this, though. As little he knows about me as possible, the better.

We continue down to the gym and out through the window in silence, with only a few huffs coming from me as I hoist myself back up and outside. Everything Riley does is flawless, and I hate it. His clothes don't look scuffed at all as we leave the gym, while my bare arms are scraped and bruised from climbing through the windowsill.

The silence is broken when he says, "What're you doing after this?"

"You mean right now?"

He shrugs, and I'm getting sick of seeing those broad shoulders go up.

"I was going to go home," I say truthfully, but leave out everything unspoken. I should be going home and hope my family didn't fall apart while I was gone this morning. But I don't want to.

We walk to his car – a black Mercedes convertible type thing – and he leans against it rather than opening the driver's side door. His eyes are roaming all over my body, taking me in. And then they go distant, looking passed me like he's remembering something. Riley Caddel is a strange character. Intriguing, but strange.

His focus is back on me, eyes locked on mine. His lips turn up into a genuine smile as he says, "Should we grab brunch?"

The easy answer is no. So easy. And yet: "Sure."