Alma Underwood Is Not a Kleptomaniac by Lacey Dailey

Author:Lacey Dailey [Dailey, Lacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lacey Dailey Books
Published: 2019-09-29T22:00:00+00:00

16

I Don’t Even Go Here

Rumor

“Does he even go here?”

I shove my thumb and forefinger into my eye sockets.

No. I don’t even go here.

“You are popular today, my man.” Arthur slings his arm over my shoulders, towing me into his side. I can see myself in the reflection of his oversized sunglasses.

I look like a crotchety jackass.

Around me the air is thin and stale, shared by hundreds of mouths talking all at once. I lurch forward when somebody jogs past me, waving a pamphlet in the air like they’re about to go cash in a lotto ticket.

With each body that wedges itself through the front door of the school, the impatient faction of teens gagging to have answers inflates and presses against the sturdy walls. The foundation beneath my feet threatens to crack.

It’s suffocating. The lobby is so full I feel like I have to step outside just to have space to think.

“Want to escape out the side door and go munch on some weenies at Doggy Style?”

Tempting. But no.

Lingering eyes give me an itch I can’t make go away no matter how many times I scratch it. But I can’t leave. Not when one pair of eyes belongs to her.

Not when she looks at me like that.

Mesmerized.

Like she’s woken up from a dream only to realize it wasn’t a dream at all.

Cue the tiny violins.

Arthur fans himself. “Hot damn. She’s all the way across the room and I can still feel you two studying for the GED.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

He dips his chin, sunglasses coasting down the bridge of his nose, allowing him to gaze dubiously at me over the slim frames. “Oh, you know what it means.”

I really don’t.

Using his pinky finger, he pushes his glasses, letting them settle in the space between his eyes. He takes back the hand that’s resting on my shoulder and starts to pick at his pink nails.

“What’s with the sunglasses?” The fluorescent light strips hanging above us are bright but not that bright.

“If recruiters can’t look you in the eye, it’s less likely they will try to talk to you.”

Any other day I would’ve found his logic amusing. Now I find nothing but a blanket of jealousy as it drapes over me.

“My outfit was also designed to repel people.”

My eyes roam his all black ensemble. “I was wondering who died.”

“My soul as soon as I stepped through the door.”

I bite my lip to cover my smile.

Arthur is nothing if not dedicated to his mission to revolt against all things regarding his future. He isn’t just wearing black. No. In a full suit the color of ink, accessorized with a matching scarf wrapped around his neck, he doesn’t seem concerned he’ll drop dead of a heatstroke. The get up is a stark contrast to the neon colors he normally slathers himself in, typically dressing like this decade’s Fresh Prince.

I rapt my knuckles on the wall behind us. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Stand here until I spot the guidance counselor, and then move in the opposite direction of her.

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