All for the Plot

t h r e e

The entirety of Steinford Academy is in heat.

Over what, you ask? Biceps and blonds. Tragic..

Greasy burgers, boy banter, and 30 minutes later- I, along with seven detention students were called into the office. The walk to the office was short, easy, and disturbing. Short and easy, given that Gia and Kate had given me directions prior. Disturbing, because six guys and a girl who looked to be lesbian, stared lasers into my back (and maybe my ass) the whole way there.

The administration office was more modern than the rest of the school. It had lots of greenery, white surfaces, and wooden accents. It smelled like hand sanitizer, and the air felt polluted enough to make someone choke. The hum of a printer echoes off the walls.

As I latched two fingers on the door handle to the door that read PRINCIPLE ERROS, one of the seven called out to me. I pause with a smirk because I know exactly who the voice belongs to.

"Hey, Boots! Hold on!" He says through cupped hands.

I spin and lock eyes with him. The boy from yesterday. The boy from the park. The boy with the dog. The Vogue model. The boy with the twin sisters from the baby cult.

He darts his head to a corner, and it takes me seven steps to reach him.

"What's up?" I ask. One thing I hate is talking to tall people. It forces me to have doe eyes when I'd prefer my lower Sanpauku eyes. It took me years to love them, after all.

"I never got to properly thank you for yesterday." He says, looking down at me. He's handsome. Let me see if I can sum this up. Tall, taller than me, so he's 6'?" Sure. Dirty blond hair.. short cut. Green eyes, but not dark green.. mossy green. Straight teeth, aside from one crooked canine. Medium tan skin. There. So what I'm observant? .. Shoot me.

"Oh.. that? I didn't really help anywhere." I mumble, looking away.

He dips his head, so that he's in my line of sight again, then stands up tall once my eyes are locked on him.

"Not at all. Ivy is a hard one to calm down, and you did it so easy," He confessed. "Not a small feat."

"Well, thank you." I smile. "Glad I could help." I step away, to head into the office now. Before I could get too far, he wrapped his hand around my elbow, pulling me back.

"I didn't even get to the good part. My mom wanted to thank you personally. She asked me to invite you to dinner tonight." He snickered.

"Dinner?" I ask, with furrowed eyebrows. Dinner just for grass-stained knees and ankle pressure? The bar for North Maine Standards of Human Decency is lower than my chances of staying sober.

"Yeah, and she wanted me to tell you 'I promise we're not murders.' She's making lasagna and cinnamon rolls." He implied.

If I wasn't going then, I sure as hell am going now. Knowing Vittoria St. James is knowing I live, breathe, and blink cinnamon rolls. Even if this was a ploy at making me dinner, I'd just stuff down some cinnamon rolls and scream. At least I'd die happy.

"I'm in." I blurt out.

He let out a belly laugh. His laugh was different from his voice. Lighter, mellower. "I haven't even given you my name yet!" He said through laughter.

I roll my eyes behind a smile.

After he finishes laughing he lets out, "I'm Silas Hargrove. Here, give me your phone and I'll send you everything."