Although I would never admit it, study period was kind of great.
An hour with no teacher, trapped in the library to catch up on all the crap I'd been avoiding, was kind of everything. Though most of the guys used the time to practice laps or pitching, I was finally making some headway with my calculus prep. Which was why the last thing I expected was a thick stack of papers to come clattering down onto my notebook, seemingly out of nowhere. My head snapped up so fast the cord of my earphones drew taunt, wrenching the buds from my ears with a soft pop.
"Jesus Christ, a tap on the shoulder would've sufficed," I said, blushing when my voice came out much louder than intended in the silent study space.
A couple heads turned our way but quickly resumed their studying.
Ms. Jenning, the in-school librarian, scolded me with a tap to the 'SILENT SPACE. RESPECT THOSE AROUND YOU' sign strapped to her book cart.
My book dropping companion barely flinched, merely tugged out the chair across from me and fell gracefully onto it.
"My cousin Bella told me to give you this. Said to look for 'handsome yet brooding', and well, she got the brooding part down," they said.
"As someone who handles deli meat for a living I'm not sure I trust your judgment of what's attractive and what isn't," I said, alarming myself at how defensive my response came out.
"And as someone who spent a good chunk of time with their face to the pavement and ass in the air I don't think you have much high standing anyway," the guy smirked, posture loose as he slung a hand my way. "Spencer Fox. I, obviously, didn't get a chance to introduce myself during your Miranda rights nor at the deli where I'm sure if I had done so you would've attempted to slice my hand off."
"What makes you think I'm not on that same mindset now?" I said, eyeing his hand wearily.
"We're on school property, 'violence is not tolerated'," he said, still cocky, and gestured with his head towards the 'Zero Tolerance' sign plastered on the back wall.
"Beau Minders," I said, shaking his hand. The grip was firm, not as tight as that fateful day he acted as my full body restraint.
"I know. I also know your address and social security, both of which by the way have a lot of threes, but that's the perk of having cops in the family. I had to make sure Bella wasn't trying to pull a fast one on me when she told me to give the script to you."
"Officer Fox... that was your Mom?"
"Yeap," he said, popping the 'p' loud enough that Ms. Jenning resent us her death glare. "Taught me everything I know, though my grip is a lot looser than her's. You would've been passed out on the pavement had she gotten to you first."
"You training to be a cop?" I asked, and the question surprised us both.
Spencer shrugged. "Mom wants me to, not my kind of thing. I just had a free evening, wanted to see a bit of the town, and Mom convinced me that doing so in the back of the squad car was just the same as walking around. Lucky me the moment I decided to stretch my legs was the moment you decided to make an ass of yourself."
I winced in sympathy when Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose, the area still swollen even though a good chunk of time had passed since my elbow crashed into it.
"Sorry, by the way,"
"Hey, you gotta act quick when breaking and entering. I got in the way of that, casualty of the job," he smirked, reclining back before stretching his arms out.
I reached out to thumb through the script, furrowing my brow when I reached the end even though the bottom of the page is marked 278 out of 300. Plastered across the last page in bold are the letters TBC.
"Things missing like a third of its pages. TBC–?"
"To be continued," Spencer stated, leaning over to tap on the page. I noticed under his nails was smudged with paint. A blue that matched his sweatshirt. Blinking up I forced myself to catch the words coming out of his mouth. "Bella says the play's finale is a plot twist only she, and by extension Kyle, can know about. I've been pressing her for months but she won't budge. I have a feeling it's something I'm gonna hate."
"Hey, so long as it doesn't lead to the play's cancellation she could have me parade in a tutu for all I care," I mumbled, adding at Spencer's incredulous look, "Community service hours. My officer agreed to cut down time if I helped out with the play. I'm lucky since it's a pretty sweet deal and short of having to sing, I think I can live down the jokes my friends will sling when they hear about it."
"Friends like the guy with you at the house? The one that ran off," Spencer mused, and though he smiled his eyes grew hard.
"I'm not a rat," I said defensively, hackles raised when I thought back to what Tommo had said to me Friday night.
You let him get away with too much shit...
I love the guy like a brother... but not enough to risk juvie...
Reassess your reactions to every time Jeremy tells you to jump...
"Hey," Spencer cut in, waving a hand before me. This one was covered in splotches of orange which made me wonder if the guy had been in the middle of a Bob Ross tutorial prior to him visiting me.
"You good man? I swear I'm not here to give you the third degree," he promised, muttering an apology when Ms. Jenning passed our table with a pursed glare.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I blinked back, studiously avoiding his almost pitying look.
"Touchy subject, I get it. Being a cop's kid makes you stick out. I don't have the greatest social cues. Gillian says it's part of the charm but," he shrugged, letting the end of the sentence hang.
"Gillian?"
"Oh," he said, as if surprised by the name's mention. "My girlfriend, she goes to the all-girl prep on the other side of town. Kind of by luck I ended up moving closer to her."
"Saint Judiths?"
"That's the one."
Saint Judiths was the catholic school Mom always threatened to send April to whenever she acted out. It didn't seem like the place to house the girlfriend of a guy like Spencer.
Though, how could I judge, I didn't know the guy.
Our conversation was cut short by the curt groan of the chair beside me being yanked free. I craned my head up to meet Tommo's confused expression. He stunk of freshly applied deodorant and carried a stack of textbooks under his arm. Obviously, he had decided to join me after gym class rather than stay behind. Which was unusual.
"Boys, honestly," Ms. Jenning hissed, making me jump. I hadn't seen her circling the table.
Tommo slung her a charming grin, dropping into his seat with a curt nod at our present company.
"Spencer Fox," Spencer offered, lazily extending a hand that Tommo immediately accepted, eyes cast onto the splayed textbook before him.
"Theodore Moorg, but people call me Tommo."
"I know," Spencer said, adding when he caught the glance Tommo and I shared at his prompt response, "Everyone around here talks about you. Track star and all that."
"Look Tommo, you've got a fan club," I smirked, enjoying the way Tommo twisted about in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention.
"I made this weird, didn't I? I'm sorry," Spencer said, going so far as to blush, a complete one-eighty of the cocky dude from before.
"It's fine, I'm just fucking with Tommo," I said.
"Okay, that's enough. Boys, out," Ms. Jenning said, face stern as she pointed towards the exit.
"What, that's such bullshit!" I said, unable to stop myself.
"I had warned you plenty of times to keep the noise down Mr. Minders, and profanity is not allowed. Do I need to direct you to the Dean's office for your continued disruptive behavior?"
I dropped my gaze, shuffling my books into my bag. "No, Ms. Jenning."
Across from me, Spencer stifled a laugh, head down as he packed his stuff. By the time we reached the corridor, he could no longer hold in his laughter.
"Fuck off," I warned him, shoving his shoulder.
"Trouble truly does follow you, huh?" he grinned, back to cocky.
I rolled my eyes, stopping by the water fountain as Tommo filled his bottle.
"Beau is normally quiet as a mouse, Clark's the catalyst to his disruptive behaviors," Tommo said, eyes trained on his bottle.
I shot him an affronted look while Spencer chuckled, clutching his bag straps.
"Shame we got kicked out, but it gives me a reason to ditch and start my shift early. Hopefully, you'll return to the quiet mouse persona by rehearsals or Bella will ride your ass into submission."
"Graphic," Tommo replied, eyebrows raised as he spared a glance at Spencer.
"Girl has a vision, what can I say. I'll see you Friday," Spencer replied, nodding curtly before striding down the hallway and to the exit.
"Friday? Bella?" Tommo asked, screwing the lid back onto his bottle.
My neck heated up and I avoided his eye, tracking the line of lockers alongside us.
"I signed up for the town play," at Tommo's disbelieving look I clarified further. "It'll cut down my community service hours. Bella is the director, and also Spencers cousin."
"You sure seem to know a lot about Spencer," he responded, adding. "What did Clark say when you told him?"
"What makes you think I've told him yet?"
Tommo rolled his eyes, drinking some water. "You never tell me anything first."
Ouch.
"Tommo–"
"I ain't saying it's a bad thing, just a fact." He shrugged.
"Clark found out through April, so technically I didn't tell him."
Tommo snorted continuing down the hall. I met his strides, following him towards the back field. The wind had picked up since morning but thankfully the rain had stopped. Our footsteps squeaked against the dewy grass and I held back a groan when mud splattered up and stained my jeans.
"You would've made the worst Boy Scout," Tommo laughed.
"Shut up," I grumbled, walking toward the bleachers. I dropped onto the cool metal, watching as Tommo stretched on the grass.
"When's your next race?"
Tommo raised a brow, dubious. "Saturday? Partridge High. Why?"
"I'll come watch, cheer you on and shit."
"Dude, I was joking before, you know we're cool right?"
"I know, but I'm just being supportive. Let me be supportive man."
"Clark's not coming, he's got baseball practice same time," he said and I felt bad he felt the need to warn me of that.
"Good, I'll cheer extra loud then. Embarrass you and ruin your chances at picking up Partridge High girls."
Tommo rolled his eyes again. "You could never throw off my game."
"Forgot how inflated your ego is. Go run some laps." I waved him off, laughing when he flipped me the bird before tossing his bag to the ground and taking off. I sunk back against the metal stands, watching Tommo effortlessly navigate the track. Sometimes I forgot how good the guy was, hell sometimes I forgot how easy it was to be friends with him. My mind was always looping around the idea of Clark I tended to forget about the other people in my life. God, I was kind of an asshole.
Dad gave Tommo a ride home that night, quizzing him about how things were going with scouts, and if he had any preferences for college. It made the ride home a little stilted. I still hadn't look at the brochures on my desk, something I knew Mom and Dad were worried about. Add Aunt Jenny in the mix, who seemed convinced I would straighten myself out in time, the future was a shaky topic in the household.
Thomas' car took up the majority of the driveway so Dad parked on the street corner. I wasn't surprised when I walked into my room to find my brother crashed on my bed, booted feet messing up my sheets, clicking through something on my computer.
"Mom's making lasagna," were the first words out of his mouth. My brother didn't look up from the screen, busy punching in the numbers of the credit card in his other hand.
"What's with her sudden need to make every meal out of pasta," I huffed, throwing my bag onto my desk chair and kicking my shoes into the closest. I swiped the can of coke idling my nightstand, taking a sip as I glanced over Thomas' shoulder.
"Since when are you into Russian literature?" I said, confused by the books littering my brother's check-out.
"Since Willow made me join a book club. Hope you don't mind, I'm using your card. Lost mine."
"Son of a– Thomas, come on!" I groaned, recognizing that yes, that was my credit card in my brother's grip. "You're such an asshole. When did you swipe it?"
"Last night, amazed you didn't notice. You're so anal about your stuff sometimes."
"You're paying me back," I told him, ripping off my sweatshirt in favor of a loose t-shirt. Thomas just snorted, shaking his head as he finalized the purchase. "Are you staying the night again? I was hoping to dump Flemming in your room so I could study in peace."
"Crashing at Willow's, but he can't sleep there. That's my sacred space."
"What about my sacred place? The guy's almost as bad as you with touching my stuff."
"Not my fault, I was born first, I get to make the rules," he said, getting off the bed to ruffle my hair before heading out the room with my computer.
I changed out of my jeans, shoving my bag to the floor in order to sit at my desk, forcing myself to start considering college. The majority of brochures were for local colleges, no further than a state away. I stopped reading after the fifth one, all of them saying the same shit.
It's after dinner that I finally started to read the script. The lasagna sat heavy in my stomach so I stretched out on the bed, earphones shoved in as far as possible to block out Flemming's stupid computer game.
The play started normal enough, the basic plot of Snow White. It was following her eating the apple that things change. Two suitors appeared at her glass casket, both seeking her hand in marriage. The play shifted, describing each prince's backstory and how they came to find out about Snow White's predicament. I had to admit, some bits were pretty funny, which was not something I expected from Bella. Thankfully no sudden bursts of singing appeared in the play. By the time I'd reached the last page, it was two in the morning and I wanted to know more, not satisfied with the cliff-hanger.
I shut the play, leaving it on the nightstand by the can of soda Thomas left behind and slipped further under the covers in the hope of getting some sleep. My phone lit up just before I closed my eyes and I groaned, rolling over to check it. It was an email notification about Thomas' book order, though that wasn't what caught my attention. A text message sat on my notification screen from Tommo, sent during dinner, with more information about his race. I smiled and sent back a short message before putting my phone on silent for the night.