A Pretty Little Parody [PLL]

20. Never Trust A Jer'quoff

A couple of hours later, school was letting out and I headed straight for my locker to dump the massive armful of books that I had somehow acquired throughout the day. My history textbook was especially heavy, and after carefully sticking it between my art history and science texts, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“Your customs here are strange,” a familiar voice remarked next to me, and I stifled a groan. “Tristan, what are you doing here?”

“I haven’t gone ever home at three-thirty.” Tristan rolled his eyes. “This is my new locker.” He patted it proudly. “Right next to yours.”

I mentally cursed the school for having such a tiny student body. The lockers were arranged alphabetically and sectioned off into grades. Was there no one else in the seventh grade whose names fell between Pratte and Peterson? Now I had the special pleasure of getting to see Tristan every day first thing in the morning, right before lunch, and right before the end of the day, which was when we were supposed to go to our lockers. As helpful as he was, I couldn’t be seen hanging around with him.

Wait...yes I could! Suddenly, Rosebush Day’s tiny student body seemed like a blessing in disguise. The lockers would be a perfect cover for me. After all, it was seen as friendly to talk to your neighbor, and locker neighbors were no different. Anyone who saw me socializing with Tristan when we were at our lockers would just assume that I was being nice, not that I actually had something to say to him. It was perfect!

I was so happy at my new revelation that I jumped up and gave him a hug. “Ohmigod, right?” Then I quickly pulled back, because Sasha Peterson didn’t randomly give people hugs for no reason, especially not losers who were dressed like that. “Sorry about lunch, by the way. It’s just that my friends and I have a really...peculiar way of sitting, and I can’t break tradition, so...”

“Don’t worry about it. I know what you mean.” Tristan smiled. “I found some friends of mine, too.” He pointed at some geeky-looking kids huddled by the bathrooms. “I know how people like you work. You don’t want to be seen with me at school, do you.”

He said it like a statement and not like a question, almost like he was used to it. I shrugged apologetically. “You caught me,” I admitted. “I have an image to keep up and a reputation to maintain.”

“Whatever. It’s cool.” He opened his locker and started rearranging his stuff. For a new kid, he sure had a full locker. “So, any luck on the Eli front? Or are we stuck again?”

“Stuck again.” I sighed and quickly checked my watch. I had definitely lingered too long--people were watching. “Look, do you wanna meet up at my house later with Moby to see if we can dig around for more clues and stuff? I gotta go.”

“Sure. Text me your address. Is eight-thirty okay?”

“Perfect. See you then.” I slung my backpack over one shoulder and waved good-bye to Tristan. He wasn’t bad-looking, I decided. If he got a makeover, he might even be clique material. Five may have been the magic number, but I felt like having a replacement for Scott.

I pushed through a group of girls who were walking way too slowly and walked through double doors that opened out into a small courtyard. It connected the middle school to the upper school and had two old-fashioned tables smack dab in the center. Mostly upper-schoolers hung out there, but my friends and I got a free pass because I was Sasha Peterson.

Two guys sat at my usual table. One of them’s back was to me, and he wore a Goldman Sachs messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t remember from where. He was patiently listening to the other guy, who was grossly overweight and talking animatedly with his hands.