Tap Out (8 page)

The bell rings, and I snap awake, slumped on my desk. I push up and Lance's room is a blur. I blink my eyes, but can't seem to get right. I stagger out of the room. Lance watches me but doesn't say a word.

I head straight to the bathroom because I gotta piss so bad I've got a semi. I drain the captain, wash my hands, turn for a towel, and there's Dave, staring at me like a shit he just can't get to flush.

“'Sup, Tone?”

“'Sup, Dave?” My hands drip. All I want to do is dry them, but I let them hang at my sides.

“So you gonna throw down with us or was last night too much?”

My body tenses. “Don't know yet.”

He laughs, exposing his pointy teeth. His breath is hot in my face and smells like cinnamon. He chews his gum with his mouth open, and I'd like to put an elbow through it. “Don't know? Huh. What's there to know, you fucking pussy?” He waits for my answer. Cocks his head. “That's what my uncle says you are.”

I flash hot but then see Cameron lying on my mom's bed, stoned, staring at the ceiling like some roach on its back. I could have dropped him without trying. I don't say anything, though. Feeding Dave would only bring some back to Cameron.

“Good at staying quiet.” Dave squints.

“We done?” This sounds tough as shit, but, really, I know that my legs can't take much more of this stare down, and if I buckle in front of him, I'm fucked.

He chomps on his gum. “Yeah. For now.”

I step around him to the towels.

“Just do me a favor and keep tight about the business down in your shit hole.”

I wipe my hands. “The fuck you talking about?”

“Don't act like you don't know. Rob already knows to stay quiet. So should you. That is if you're going to be one of us.”

My head scrambles for an answer. The only “business” of any kind is with, Chaz, Charity's dad. Is that what he's talking about? And who said I wanted to be one of them? It's a fucking gym, not a cult. I want to ask him what he's talking about, but I know better.

Dave watches me for a moment and then laughs. “See you tonight, bitch.” He throws a jab into a stall door before leaving. I lean against the sink and run through what he's just said. How the fuck does he know anything about the park? Who would willingly come in when everyone else is trying to get out?

I take my seat in math and kids watch me. I play it cool, check 'em out from the corners of my eyes. A few laugh and nod toward me. I fucking need this? Sagehorn's heels clack across the front of the room. The bell rings, and the class goes silent. Sagehorn looks at me, blushes, and then turns to the class. “Today . . .” Her voice catches. She clears it. “Today, we will be measuring the surface area of various objects. You'll need to memorize the equations.” She moves to the board and grabs chalk, all by the book, not even a hint of a smile.

I hate that I've done this, put that quaver into her voice. Fuck, I can't remember how many of my mom's boyfriends have done that to me, made me feel that small. I am a dick, just like them. No, I can't think that. I'm different. I am.

“Open your notes.”

Someone nearby says, “More like,
spread your legs
.” A few kids chuckle. Fuck, they can't start this. Sagehorn whips around and flashes red. She holds her look over the class,
but it's more haunted than angry. She's hanging on by a thread, and I just look away when she stares at me.

“We'll start with the triangle.”

The same kids who chuckled before laugh out loud now, and part of me doesn't blame them. Really, why would she choose
that
shape? But I bite my cheek so I don't laugh. I'm fucking toast if I do.

Sagehorn drops the chalk. It lands on the floor and cracks into three pieces, but she doesn't pay any attention to it, just stands straight and eyes the class, her face glowing hot. She levels a dirty-ass stare on me, and I stop biting my cheek. I understand where she's coming from, but if she's going to try and pin everything in here on me, well, I'm not
that
much of a pussy.

She turns back to the board. “Like I was saying, the triangle is rather easy to finger. I mean, figure.
Figure.
”

There's a pause. Mouths behind me sound like stifled screams.

“Let me just, let me just lay out an example for you.”

The screams burst, and five guys lose their shit. Each is red-faced, laughing his ass off. One starts coughing and can't catch his breath. Kids turn and look at me, and I feel a bolt turn inside.

“Out!”

Sagehorn's looking at me.

“Get! Out!”

I put up my hands. “But I didn't . . .”

“I don't care!” Her scream stops the laughter and my argument. She's wide-eyed, red-faced, straight-up pissed. I hate these fucks for doing this, but what can I do? There's nothing I can say that will change anything. I'll only look more guilty. It takes me a moment to get the momentum to
get out of my seat, and some chuckles pop as I go. She watches me the entire time, like some deranged animal ready to fight a predator.

I step into the hall, close the door behind me, and breathe. “Shit.”

I walk slowly to Big O's. He'll be expecting me.

The secretary is standing when I enter, a little smile tucked just under the bottom of her glasses. “Go right in.”

I don't bother to give her a dirty look or play dumb. Big O's door is open and obviously meant for me. I walk through, and the big man is looking down, one hand on his forehead, the other stretched out before him. He doesn't look up.

“It wasn't me. I didn't do shit.” I stop. “Sorry. Didn't do
anything
.”

He looks up now, gives me a long stare, and I wonder how he was as a teenager, because he's one scary-looking fuck. Bet he messed shit up. “Explain.”

I do and his fat ass actually listens, his big lips opening and closing like a fish. He leans back in his chair and sighs. I know what's coming and brace for the hit, just like always. “I told you, one more mistake, one more, and that was it.”

I feel like I might hurl. What am I going to do without Vo-Tec? And now, the gym?

“But I'm not ready to say you've made that mistake yet. I'll speak with Mrs. Sagehorn and see what her version of the event is.”

I'm able to take a small breath. “You believe me?”

“I didn't say that, so don't go putting words in my mouth.”

I jam my hands under my armpits and contain myself.

“Go down, see Mr. Franks, make some use of your time. Help him spruce things up around here. Homecoming's around the corner and we need to look our best.”

I nod because I can't believe that he's giving me another chance.

“And by the way . . .”

I knew it couldn't go this smoothly.

“Coach Dan said you did well last night. Good job.” Big O's smile cuts across his face, and I feel more like I'm watching someone else's life than my own. I'm never on the receiving end of this.

“Thanks.” I can't think to get anything else out.

“You're welcome. Now go.”

I flash a grin at the secretary as I pass her desk, and she doesn't seem to know what to do with her own face.

The two douche janitors are watching TV. I don't bother to talk to them, just grab a sweeper and do like before. I finish up, happy to have had something to lean against as I walked. My legs feel a bit better, but there's still a half hour until the block's through. I don't want to overdo it. I bring the sweeper and pan back to the office. Mr. Franks snorts at me.

“Figured it out for yourself?”

“It isn't that hard.”

He grunts. “No, it's not.” He steps away from the pallet he was sorting through, grabs a spray bottle and a rag. “There's some graffiti down by the gym. Near the main doors. Go mix some elbow grease with this and see how much you can get rid of. Figure it's a good penance.”

He says the last word all slow, and as I take the bottle, wonder if he thinks that I don't know what
penance
means. Fuck him. I know penance inside out. I've been paying for mistakes my entire life. Mostly my mother's. I grab the rag and head toward the hall.

“No argument?”

“What's the point? You've got me all figured out.”

“You're learning already.”

The graffiti is mostly a bunch of f-bombs and cocks. Why the fuck do guys draw so many cocks? I've never once seen a girl draw a cock. Or a twat. Guess that second one's my department. I laugh and spray the solution. It smells like orange but works real fucking well. I only have to dig in a couple of times and the wall is clean. I could use some of this shit at home.

A couple days later we spill off the bus and into Greyson's room. He's smiling, which is not a good sign. He's got something planned, some project. “Gentlemen, have a seat.” We sit at these thick-ass wooden tables that are busted to hell.

“Still can't believe that shit with Sagehorn.” Rob swivels on his stool.

“Sorry you're stuck on my twat. Should get some of your won. ”

Rob opens his mouth to speak but shakes his head, instead.

“Anyway, if Big O believes whatever bullshit she tells him, this may be our last class together.”

Rob stops swiveling. “Don't sweat it, Tone. It'll work out.”

I feel like telling him he's an ass for saying something like that, but part of me wants to believe he's right, so I stay quiet.

“Your next project is going to combine research and hands-on application.” Greyson turns and pulls a cart toward him. Looks like a portable tool unit. But he punches a code on the built-in lock and opens the doors. Laptops? He pulls one out. “Back when I started, you consulted manuals or called guys to find out how to fix things you'd never seen before.
Now,” he taps the computer, “it's all here.” He sets the laptop on the top of the cart. “If you want to cut it as a mechanic you need to know computers and cars. Therefore, you will be teaching the class about one of the major car systems.”

The guys murmur. A lot of us don't have computers, and I rarely use the ones at school.

Greyson pats the air to calm us. “Don't worry, you're not on your own, and these laptops will be here for your use. I'll get you started.” He crosses to his tool counter and grabs a bucket. “First things first, partner up.”

I turn to Rob while the rest figure out who's with who. With these idiots, it could take awhile. “Hey, you know what Jensen's business is?”

Rob frowns. “Really, you don't know?”

“No, dick, or I wouldn't be asking. He was talking shit in the bathroom but then said something about staying out of his business. Keeping our mouths shut.”

Rob's forehead wrinkles. “Why the fuck would I want to talk about slinging meth?”

I immediately think of my mother. Shit. “He deals?”

“Yeah. For the Front.”

Everything goes still for a moment. The Front. I know the name, but can't remember why.

Rob must see my confusion. “That's Chaz's crew. The Agnostic Front.”

A hole opens inside, and I feel everything pull toward it. Dave is Cameron's nephew, and if he's involved with the Front, then I'll bet Cam is, too. And if Cam's that close to meth or whatever else their selling, Mom doesn't have a chance. And neither do I.

Greyson steps to us. “Grab a slip.” He pushes the bucket between us. I reach in, grab one, and open it.

“Cooling and Lubricating.”

Greyson writes down our names and the system on a clipboard. “All yours.” He moves on to the last group and then passes out a packet for the project. We go through page by page and write in the due dates.