"McDonald's? We have like ten minutes until the next bus."
"Oh, yeah sure."
We walk along the side of the road, Chris looking down at his phone and texting frenetically. I can hear his anger in the way his fingers tap against the display. He has completely switched from his cheeky, grinning self to upset and angry in just a couple of seconds. It worries me, but I don't know if I should ask about it. I don't want to make anything worse.
I guess I do have an idea of what's going on, though.
"I'm sorry for getting you kicked off the russebuss," I mumble, hoping he will still hear me.
His thumbs stop typing whatever message he's about to send someone, and he glances over at me. He no longer looks angry, but rather confused. His eyebrow raises slightly. "How did you get me kicked off the bus?"
"I mean... you were with me instead of at that fundraiser. So people were saying that–"
He cuts me off by letting out a short sigh. "That was my choice. I didn't wanna go, so I didn't. Besides, that's not why I'm not on the bus anymore."
I fold my arms across my chest. "It isn't? But everyone is saying..."
"This school would be nothing without rumours."
Frowning, I put my head to the side. "So what's the real story?"
"I quit."
"After all the work you put in?"
Chris just shrugs. As if it's nothing. "Yeah."
"But why?" I ask. I thought he was really into the idea of being on that bus. How could that all change so quickly?
He takes a breath, looking up at the sky. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets. "Because..."
"Because?" I repeat, wishing he would just tell me whatever is on his mind. It seems to be weighing on him.
Chris licks his lips. It seems like he is debating whether or not to speak. Then, he pulls his hands out of his pockets and pushes a hand through his hair. "I found out that Julian and some of the other guys were behind spreading those pictures of you passed out at the party. They were planning on making money off of them at the fundraiser."
"Seriously?" I suddenly feel a bit sick, reliving the moment I first found out about the pictures. I had almost forgotten about it. I can't believe I first suspected Chris was the one behind it all.
"I haven't seen them," he says. "But I heard them speak about it. If it helps, I threw a good punch."
"So that's why you were fighting in the hallway yesterday."
"Yeah," he nods. "I told them I'd rather not be on a bus at all than hanging around a bunch of dicks. The guys got really annoyed because William was saying he'd quit as well unless they deleted all the photos. Which they should, anyway, cause that shit is illegal, surely."
The sliding doors open as we approach the entrance. The warmth from inside hits my face as we go inside. "So what happens now?" I ask.
"William told me they'll delete the photos."
"Really?" There's an ounce of hope lighting up within me.
"He's the bus boss, the Penetrators won't exist without him. There's no way they'd risk him quitting, too. They'll do what he says."
"I hope you're right."
"I hope so, too," he says. "Now, what's your milkshake flavour?"
"Chocolate. What's yours?"
Chris presses the drinks section on the self-service machine. "Strawberry."
"Really? I would never have thought you'd be a strawberry kind of guy."
"I'm sweeter than you think," he says, chuckling to himself as he pushes his card into the card slot.
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oh would you look at that, i'm finally keeping my promise!
