Kevin glanced around the track team's locker room, shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder, and heaved a sigh.
On the scale of preferable punishments, campus cleanup lay somewhere between detention and suspension, and fell just beyond the dreaded, mortifying phone call home. Luckily his parents had understood how completely ridiculous this was, so he wouldn't be getting into any trouble with them, but nonetheless, here he was, about to spend the better part of his lunch period neatening up a room whose very air was polluted with testosterone, Axe spray, and the stench of sweat. Besides, he had more important things to worry about, such as whether or not he could actually pull this off.
He shook himself, slipped the strap of his bag over his head to keep it from sliding from his shoulder, opened up his trash bag, and got to work.
He had been presented with a very rare opportunity, he mused as he picked up empty bottles, scraps of paper, and the odd wrapper. Somewhere in this room, possibly, were Eddward's stolen dogtags. Emphasis on possibly - he only knew for sure that they had stashed them here immediately after stealing them. Whether or not the track field's locker room had become their permanent hiding place was anyone's guess. Furthermore, even if it was, he had no way of knowing where they might be. Which, he supposed, was why it was convenient that his pretense of cleaning the place gave him the chance to poke around.
Kevin continued scanning the floor, going from one aisle between lockers to the next, and frowning at them. He had no time to figure out how to pick combination locks, so if they were stashed in one of the lockers, then he was out of luck, and maybe he could just wait until Marie got back, spill everything to her, and let her fix it. That would have been the smart thing. The easy thing.
Of course, by then it might be too late. The flu tended to last over a week, and in that time, the thieves would have ample opportunity to move the dogtags, throw them out, or find an actual dog to put them on, and they could very well be gone for good.
He ventured into the bathroom next, and grimaced as he began sweeping up pieces of toilet paper and paper towels. At least he was only required to pick up trash. Anything else would have been completely unbearable.
In any case, he decided quickly, the dogtags were not there. Where else was there to look?
The office in the back was shut, and the lights were off. Kevin tested the door and found it unlocked, before opening it and flicking the lights on. There were only a few pieces of trash on the ground, which he picked up and threw away immediately. His obligation done, he glanced around the room.
The desk held no obvious clue, and he wasn't quite bold enough to search through the drawers - which were probably locked anyway. Out of curiosity he tried one, and sure enough, it refused to open. Grumbling in annoyance, he cast about for anything, any place the stupid things could possibly be.
His eyes fell upon a large white plastic tub in the corner, filled to the brim with rumpled sweatshirts. The words "Lost and Found" were scrawled on the side in black marker. He bit his lip nervously, with a backward glance at the locker room entrance.
If they aren't in there, he vowed to himself, you're done. You're waiting for Marie.
Kevin knelt by the tub and began to sift through it. His hand touched something decidedly wet, and he jerked it back with a noise of disgust. Changing tactics, he lifted out each item between this thumb and forefinger, and deposited them in a pile on the floor beside him.
"Why do I do this to myself," he groaned, upon finding a stained pair of gym shorts. Once the tub was nearly empty, he picked up one end of it and gently shook it.
He was rewarded by an answering jingle. A strange excitement filled him, more for the success itself than what that success really was. He tipped the tub back, and a pair of familiar dogtags on a chain slid free of the folds of an unwashed T-shirt.
Kevin reached for them eagerly, only to hesitate at the last moment. His fingers hovered an inch over the tags, and he found it suddenly difficult to take them. He stared at them, uneasy, and felt as if he were standing at the edge of a roof, or a precipice, and about to step out without knowing whether or not something would catch him. Up to now, he had been impartial, uninvolved albeit with unfortunate knowledge, or at least he could pretend he was. He could be safe. But now... he was about to leave that. He was about to take a side, and it was a side that he never would have thought he would choose. Why was he doing this again?
His mind took him back to the last locker room he had been in, silent and wide-eyed as Eddward Rockwell's muffled sobs struck him to the core and stirred up his sympathy.
His hand shook as he closed the distance and took them. He crouched there for a moment longer, one hand holding the chain, the other cupped beneath the tags. With a detached outward calmness that he did not feel, he slipped the object into his messenger bag. For good measure, he dug through the contents of his bag, through folders and notebooks and loose papers, to bury the trinket at the very bottom. Without even pausing to secure the clasp, he returned the pile of discarded clothing to the Lost and Found container, stood up, and nudged it back into place with his foot. He shut off the lights, closed the door to the office, and hurriedly gave the room one last glance for any garbage he missed, before washing his hands thoroughly. Finally, he exited the locker room at a run, only to momentarily crumple to the ground outside with a groan of dread.
Nat spotted Kevin walking briskly at the other end of the hallway at the end of lunch period. He looked odd, pausing every now and then to glance left or right, before continuing at a hurried pace. It was difficult to tell from the back, but he appeared to have one hand on his messenger bag at all times, covering the clasp protectively, while the other held on to the strap as if he was terrified it might slip from his shoulder. Mystified, Nat jogged to catch up with him.
He laid his hand on Kevin's shoulder when his friend was glancing the other way down a perpendicular hallway. "Hey, Kevin, what are-"
Kevin flailed, before turning and recognizing him. "Jesus Christ, Nat, don't sneak up on me like that," he snapped, keeping his voice low.
"Dude, what's your problem?"
"You scared the crap out of me!" Kevin retorted. For the umpteenth time, he looked left and right, as if making sure he wasn't being followed. "Okay, sorry, just... look. I need to talk to you about something."
"What, man, did you find something unspeakable when you were cleaning out the locker room?" Nat asked jokingly.
Kevin averted his eyes guiltily. "Uh..."
"Oh shit, you did." Nat's eyes widened. "What was it? You're not blushing about nudie mags, are you? Did you at least bring me some?"
"Dude, shut up," Kevin muttered urgently. "Look, I'm kind of freaking out right now, and I'll tell you why, just - not here. Too many people, and he might show up."
"Who-?" Before Nat could question him further, Kevin grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the student-filled hallway. Nat allowed himself to be towed along until he realized where Kevin was headed, at which point he caught up and walked in step with him. It was a narrow path between the building and the chain link fence that separated that year's nearly-completed construction work. Students normally didn't use that path, except as a shortcut, but the machinery was quiet enough for them to hear each other while making just enough noise to prevent casual eavesdropping.
"Kevin, what's the problem?" Nat demanded, once his friend had finally stopped. "You're acting paranoid."
"Okay, look, just... don't yell at me, all right?" Kevin grumbled, before digging his hand into his bag. "Oh, who am I kidding, you're gonna kill me for this..."
This was doing nothing for Nat's growing unease, but he declined to answer immediately for fear of scaring his friend off. Finally, with one last worried glance at the door they had come through, Kevin pulled his hand out and showed his findings to Nat.
For a moment, Nat simply gaped at Kevin's clenched fist, and the shining object that dangled from it. Then he found his voice.
"Kevin, WHAT THE FUCK."
"They buried them in the locker room's lost and found," Kevin explained nervously, shoving the incriminating item back into the safety of his messenger bag. "Which was actually a really good place to hide it, I mean, it's not like Eddward would want to dig around in a box of dirty jackets and sweat pants, but-"
"Are you insane?" Nat was hard-pressed to keep his voice down. "You're walking around with Eddward Rockwell's stolen dogtags, you idiot!"
To Kevin's credit, at least he looked suitably rattled, even if he could still manage a sort of nervous sarcasm. "No, really? I hadn't noticed."
"The guy already has it in for you, and you're walking around with the one thing you do not touch!" Nat paused. "Okay, one of the two things you do not touch, since he's kind of psychotically attached to the hat, too." He shook himself. "That's not the point. What the hell were you thinking?"
"The chance was there, so I took it," Kevin answered, sounding dismal. "I know, it was dumb, but... look, Idon't even know why I did it, so I don't expect you to get it, but... oh my God, if he catches me with these things..." A mild panic seemed to overtake him, and he reached up with both hands as if to run his hands agitatedly through his hair, though his hat blocked the way. "I'm dead. I am so dead."
Nat tilted his head back, searching the sky above for patience. "Kevin, oh my fucking God."
"What am I supposed to do?" Kevin asked helplessly.
"I don't know, man, you're boned for all I know," Nat sighed. "Look, maybe you can wait until Marie's back, then you can tell her what happened and she can hand 'em over. I'm sure she won't tell him you had 'em if you ask her nicely."
"Ohhh no, I am not keeping these things in my house, and I can't just go around all week with these things in my bag!" Kevin protested. "We don't even know when Marie'll be back. It could be plenty of time for Eddward to find out I have them and then..." He shuddered. "Okay, um... what do you think would happen if I just went up and handed them back myself?"
"We'd have to get the janitor to peel you off the wall with a spatula."
Kevin forced a desperate smile. "Maybe he'll go easy on me if I just return them?"
"No, dude-" Nat broke off, rubbing the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache. "Look, even if he did believe you, or even stopped for a second to listen to your explanation, you touched his dogtags. Nobody touches the dogtags. Even if he did believe that you swiped them back for him - and I doubt he would, because I can hardly believe you pulled a stunt like that - I don't think he'd care."
Kevin sagged. "Guess I'll be waiting around and swallowing my vomit until Marie gets back, then."
"Gross."
"I seriously want to be sick. Don't worry, I'm never doing this again."
Nat rolled his eyes. "This is where Rolf would say something about shutting the barn door when the horses are already out, or something."
"We'd better tell them what's going on," Kevin murmured. A beat passed, and he perked up a bit, looking thoughtful. "Wait. Hold on, you may be on to something. Swim practice happens on weekdays after school, right? Isn't there one today?"
"I don't like where you're going with this, Kevin."
"The locker rooms will be open, but they'll all be out in the pool," Kevin went on.
"Kevin, no. No more sneaking around empty locker rooms for you, okay? This is how habits form."
Kevin straightened up, looking resolute. "I'm going to try it." He slumped again slightly. "Now I just have to carry these things and dodge Eddward for the rest of today, and then I'll be fine."
"God damn it, Kevin."
Nazz and Rolf were going to have kittens over this.