Misfits (#2)

56.

It's the talk of the whole academy, everyone rambling about it in each lecture I've been to. Have you heard? Dean's Aston Martin set on fire last night. The professors have had to shut people up about it several times so I keep my head down.

The thrill was unlike anything I'd felt. Hurting him for once, after years of Dean's torment. Watching it go up in flames.

Even though I sort of broke down afterwards and Roman had to watch me contemplate the several ways we could get caught and end up going to prison for life. My impulsive anger only lasted so long before the crippling anxiety kicked in.

He just stood there. And watched me rock back and forth. And once I got over it, he told me to get a life. He's a real sweetheart.

But I did get over it and I'd be lying if I said that in the moment, it didn't feel good. If that makes me a bad person, so be it.

The fire department had arrived soon after me and Roman made a break for it, putting out the fire but the car was already ruined. And the two cars besides it, which happened to be his friend's. A lucky bonus.

My ill feelings towards Roman have lessened. I guess committing arson together helped. If we get caught, so be it. If Dean knows it's us, I'll be glad. I know that he knows. It's only a waiting game until he finds me, which is why Roman's been by my side all day, attending my lectures he isn't even enrolled in.

"Can you stop?" I hiss. Roman doesn't stop tapping his fingers against the desk, "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Move your fingers like you have a disease or something. What's your deal?" I ask. He lifts his fingers but just starts cracking his knuckles.

"I don't like being still."

No shit, sherlock. I tilt my head at him, "You said your other schools didn't work out. Why?"

"So, you like me now that we've committed crime together?" He asks, though he's starting to smile. I shush him, glancing around.

"I still dislike you." I glare. I just don't hate him.

He nods, digesting that and starts to spin a pen between his fingers, "Stabbed someone with a compass in my last school. In the leg so not that bad."

I gape at how casually he said that. He inspects the pen between his fingers and adds, "The one before that, they found out I was fucking a substitute teacher and kicked me out. Bad publicity for the school if it got out."

"Are you joking?" I blink.

"Does it look like it?" He leans back in his seat, spinning the pen again.

"You- how old were you, and how old was the teacher?"

"I was fifteen. She probably wasn't older than twenty five, though I didn't ask."

I'm pretty sure Everest's fucked a thirty year old before, which had been disclosed to me on one of our late nights in the lounge room back at the apartment. Ria had laughed when I fled away from him and vowed to never touch him again. He fucked me that night so...that didn't hold up for long.

"That's statutory rape. And the compass? Are you actually a psycho?" I ask. I mean, it's definitely a possibility now. He just brought up stabbing like it was something casual.

"Undiagnosed yet." He juts a shoulder, "Aren't we all a little mad?"

"Not like that."

"Like you didn't set a car on fire in an impulsive, vengeful rage twelve hours ago and then cried in a corner." He sends me an amused look and I wince. I open my mouth but shut it again, knowing I have nothing to throw back to that.