The Color of Bee Larkham's Murder by sarah j. harris

Author:sarah j. harris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

31

February 8, 9:13 A.M.

Finding Blue Teal Ruined by Aluminum Giggles on paper

I accidentally turned up late on Monday morning to save Lucas Drury because I couldn’t find a clean shirt. I had to scoop one from the bottom of the laundry basket and iron it out with my fists before I left for school. Superheroes never had this kind of problem.

I’d arrived at Lucas’s classroom after registration—not before, as I’d planned—and the pupils were already at their desks. A man stared at me as I burst in. He sat at a computer, facing the desks, which meant he must be the teacher. Mr. Luther .

“Well, what is it? Cat got your tongue?”

Aluminum giggles.

“I have a letter,” I said finally. “For Lucas Drury.”

“Well, give it to him before I read out these sports listings.”

I stayed put.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

I couldn’t move. I gripped the envelope tighter. “It’s for Lucas Drury,” I said loudly. “From music teacher Bee Larkham. She wants to see you.”

“Is that the new supply teacher?” the man at the desk asked. “Come here, Lucas. You’re wanted.”

More steel-colored titters, elongated globules with pink rims.

“Coming!” A boy in the third seat from the back slouched towards me. He had tousled blond hair, which didn’t help. He appeared identical to the classmate who sat in front of him. The boy didn’t look at me as he maneuvered around the desks. “I’ll be right back, sir.”

I followed him outside the classroom. He was going to be disappointed. Bee Larkham wasn’t here. She was probably at home, emptying out cupboards and cleaning up.

Before I could explain, he grabbed the lapels of my blazer and shoved me against the wall.

“Don’t come to my classroom again, Binocular Boy,” he hissed. “Don’t talk to me in school. Ever. Unless I say it’s OK. Do you understand?”

I didn’t understand why he was reluctant to let Bee Larkham and me save him, but I moved my head up and down anyway. Maybe he was afraid. I didn’t think he was grateful. I could have been wrong.

“Leave any messages for me in the drawers under the periodic table poster in science lab three C,” he said. “No one ever looks there. That’s how we’re going to communicate from now on. Understand?”

I shifted my head into the correct positions.

“Good.” He let go of me and ripped open the envelope.

The corners of his mouth widened; he must have changed his mind about wanting to be saved. He fished out the phone and read the words on a small, dusky blue piece of notepaper.

“Tell Bee we’re on for Saturday,” he said. “Now beat it before someone sees me talking to you, dweeb.”

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