Very funny.
I dont know why you put up with him, she said. Her cheeks wobbled as she shook her head. Good Lord, girl, you know darn well you could have any guy in the school. Except for Henry, of course. Id be forced to kill him if he made a play for you.
You ladies could shareme, he suggested.
But I mean it, though. Seriously. Jims always giving you grief about one thing or another. Why do you stand for it?
I dont know.
Because hes so cute, Henry said.
Stick it in your ear. This is serious.
Maybe I will dump him, Lane said. Its just getting worse all the time.
Grinning, Henry leaned sideways and slipped an arm around her back. Saturday night. You and me. Well make beautiful music together.
Lane saw a quick look of alarm on Bettys face. Then the girl narrowed her eyes and said, Prepare to meet your maker, Henrietta.
Sorry, Lane told him. Id hold myself responsible for your demise. I cant have that on my conscience.
Id die happy.
Bettys face went red. She pressed her lips together.
Thats enough, Henry, Lane said.
He tried to hang on to his silly grin but it fell off. He pulled his arm in. Just kidding, he said.
Just kidding. Thats what Jim had said. What was it, the standard excuse when a guy makes an ass of himself?
Lane opened her bag and took out the sandwich. It was wrapped in cellophane. She saw egg salad bulging out between the bread.
Just trying to make you jealous, sweet stuff, he said to Betty.
Youd stand as much chance with Lane as an ice cube in a hot skillet.
Tears suddenly burned Lanes eyes. She slapped her sandwich down hard on the table. Im sorry! she blurted. Goddamn it! Dont do this! Youre my friends!
They both gaped at her.
Im sorry. Okay?
Gee, Henry said.
Its all right, Betty murmured. You okay?
Lane shook her head.
I know just the thing to make you feel better.
What? Lane asked.
Let me eat that sandwich for you.
She gasped out a laugh. Not a chance.
Grab it off her, Hen, and Ill forgive you.
He reached for it. Lane caught his wrist and pinned it to the table. Try it again, she warned, and youll be picking your nose left-handed.
Hes such a klutz, hed put out his eye.
Lane let go. When she finished unwrapping her sandwich, she tore it down the middle and offered half to Betty. The girl leered at it but shook her head. Go on, Lane told her. I dont have much of an appetite, anyway.
If youre sure... She took it.
They ate their lunches and chatted, and everything seemed normal again. But Lane knew that damage had been done. Obviously, Betty had seen through Henrys joking around realized he would dump her in an eyeblink if he thought he stood a chance with Lane.
Break up with Jim, and sooner or later Henry probably willask you out. Then youll be minus your two best friends.
Jessicas assigned seat in Mr. Kramers sixth-period English class was at the front of the room, just to the left of Lanes desk. Today Riley Benson swaggered down the aisle and sat there. He slumped against the backrest, stretched out his legs and crossed his motorcycle boots. He looked at Lane. His face, with half-shut, sullen eyes, never failed to remind her of television news photos that showed men who put bullets into people for the fun of it.
Twisting around, she saw Jessica in Rileys usual seat at the rear corner.
We traded, he said. You got a problem?
None of my business.
She turned to the front. The final bell hadnt clamored yet, and Mr. Kramer rarely entered the classroom before the bell. She hoped he would show up soon. Riley had a reputation for starting trouble, and she was pretty sure that shed already been chosen as todays target.
Thanks a heap, Jessica.
The trade had to be Jessicas idea. Lane could understand that. Battered the way she was, the girl probably wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible.
It crossed her mind that Riley might be the guy whod beaten up Jessica. She knew theyd been going together, and he sure seemed capable of such things. Maybe Jessica gave him some lip. She couldve made up the mugging story.
Lane looked over at him. His fingers were rapping out a rhythm on the edge of the desk. He had dirty knuckles, but they werent bruised or scraped. He mightve been wearing gloves, though. Or done the damage with a blunt instrument of some kind.
You got a problem? he asked.
No. Uh-uh. She turned her eyes to the front.
Bitch.
This is really my day.
She stared at Mr. Kramers empty desk. Her back felt rigid. Her heart was thumping hard and her face was hot.
Come on, teacher. Where are you?
Fuckin twat.
Her head snapped toward him. Blow it out your ass, Benson.
The bell blared and she flinched.
Rileys lip curled up. See ya after class. Count on it.
Oh, Im so scared. Im trembling.
Ya oughta be.
In fact, she was. Now Ive done it, she thought. Why didnt I keep my mouth shut?
It was little consolation when Mr. Kramer entered the room.
If only hed shown up a couple of minutes ago.
Roll book in hand, he settled down against the front edge of his desk and fixed his eyes on Riley. I believe youre in the wrong seat, Mr. Benson.
You got a problem with that?
As a matter of fact, yes, I do.
Lane felt a grin spreading across her face.
Give it to him, Kramer.
Please return to your assigned seat. Now.
From the back of the room came Jessicas voice. I asked Riley to trade with be, she said.
Neverthe... For an instant, he looked surprised. Then concern furrowed his brow. My God, what happened to you?
I got wracked ub. Okay? Can I just stay here?
Did somebody do that to you?
No, I fell down the stairs.
Maybe she had a different story for everyone.
Im very sorry to hear that, Jessica. But Im afraid Ill have to insist that you both resume your proper seats.
Riley mumbled something, gathered his books, and headed for the back of the classroom.
Good show! Lane thought.
No wonder Kramer was one of the most popular teachers at Buford High. Not only young, handsome, and clever, but he had the guts to keep discipline. Plenty of other teachers wouldve backed off and let Riley stay.
Lane suddenly remembered Rileys threat. She felt herself go hot and shaky again.
Jessica slid into her seat. She sat up straight, facing Kramer. Thanks a lot, teach, she muttered.
Youre not outside, now. Take off those sunglasses.
Thats going a little too far, Lane thought.
Jessica dropped her sunglasses onto the desktop. Lane could only see her right eye. It was swollen nearly shut. Her upper lid, shiny and purple, bulged as if someone had jammed half a golf ball underneath it.
Kramer pursed his lips. He shook his head. You may put the glasses back on, he said.
Thanks a heab.
Okay, weve wasted enough time. Take out your texts and turn to page fifty-eight.
Lane watched the clock. This was the last class of the day. It had forty-five minutes to go.
He wont try anything, she told herself. He wouldnt dare.
Ill be okay if I can just get to my car.
Thirty minutes to go.
Ten.
In spite of the air-conditioning, Lane was bathed with sweat. Her T-shirt felt sodden against her armpits. Cool dribbles trickled down between her breasts. Her panties were glued to her rump.
With one minute to go she piled her books on top of her binder, ready to bolt for the door.
The bell rang.
She pressed the books to her chest, slid out of the seat and stood up.
Kramer met her eyes. Miss Dunbar, Id like to speak with you for a minute.
No!
Yes sir, she said.