I’d really like to head to the theater to help with the rest of the cleanup, but Parrish comes first.
“Follow me,” Chas says, heading down the hall toward the elevator. He swipes his student badge, and I cock a brow. “Perks of being one of Ms. Miyamoto’s favorite students.” He swings the lanyard around in his hand and smirks at me, holding out his bruised hand when the doors ding open. “After you, Little Sister.”
I step in and he follows after me, pressing the button for the bottom floor and sending us back to the office space I saw on my first day here. Ms. Miyamoto greets Chasm in Japanese when she sees him, and he responds in kind, seemingly fluent in a third language.
Why does he have to be so smart? It’s … undeniably attractive.
“Miss Banks,” Ms. Miyamoto greets, nodding her chin in my direction. “What can I help the two of you with?”
“Well, we were actually just hoping to get that volunteer form from you …” Chasm begins, gesturing in my direction. “That way I can officially record my hours tutoring Dakota. For my college applications, of course.”
My eyebrow twitches, but it isn’t a bad excuse for coming down here, and he really has helped me with my classes. I’m not failing a single one anymore.
“Absolutely. Let me go and grab it,” she says, standing up from her desk and disappearing down a stone hallway to the right. Chasm waits for the sound of a door opening and then moves around to the back of the desk.
“You keep watch,” he murmurs, grabbing her purse and digging around in it. I hate to betray a woman who’s arguably the kindest and best teacher on campus, but this is life-or-death. It’s fascinating how things that once seemed so important mean nothing in the face of such drastic consequences. “Bingo.”
Chas pockets the keys before I have much of a chance to contribute, waiting at the entrance of the hall until he’s safely back on the appropriate side of the desk.
“Found it,” Ms. Miyamoto declares, waving the page around in her right hand. “You’d think they’d want this sort of thing to be recorded digitally,” she murmurs under her breath, scribbling some things down on the form and then offering it up to us. Chas fills out a few fields, and I’m left to initial all the times that he says he’s been tutoring me.
Just seeing all those hours there on paper makes me realize just how much time this boy has invested in me. And all he asked in return was for me to keep a secret about how kind he is to drunk girls at parties. That doesn’t seem like much of a fair trade at all, does it?
“Take this with you and continue to fill it out for any additional tutoring days. I’ll sign off and collect it on the last day of school.” She smiles at us, her red lipstick reminding me of my Grandma Carmen, and guilt sweeps over me in a wave.
I’m going to have to get used to that, aren’t I? Feeling guilty … There’s going to be a hell of a lot more of that before this thing is over.
“I appreciate you,” Chasm says, giving a respectful bow before we both climb back on the elevator. He’s likely the only student in the school whose badge can call the elevator. Guess I really am choosing my pawns wisely, huh?
“What happens when she finds her keys are missing?” I whisper as soon as we’re off the elevator. Chas just shrugs and slips his hands in his blazer pockets.
“Uh, we’ll toss them in a plant and walk away? Let fate decide.” He guides us down the hall to Mr. Volli’s classroom, putting his back to the security camera before surreptitiously removing the keys. “I’ll go check with my CSC girls later to deal with the security footage,” he tells me, referencing the computer science club.
“Chasm,” I start as he unlocks the door, grabbing my wrist and yanking me inside before he closes and locks it behind him. He makes his way over to the office door immediately, trying the handle and then cursing when it doesn’t unlock. He starts trying keys as I move up beside him. “You don’t have to pretend there are girls when there aren’t.”
“There are plenty of girls,” he tells me, moving through the massive ring of keys in quick succession. “Why wouldn’t there be? Just because I don’t sexually assault drunk girls doesn’t mean I don’t have friends.” He finally lands on a key that works, turning it and giving a little fist pump at the sound of the deadbolt sliding free.
“Personally, I think you’re a virgin,” I tell him, and he pauses, one hand on the doorknob, his face turning to look at me. We’re standing a little too close, but I tell myself it’s because we’re on a secret mission to catch a serial killer. Nothing else. There cannot be anything else. “I don’t know why, but all your slutty guy talk just sounds like bravado to me, like cover.”
