Midnight

15

Celestine

I slammed my alarm clock aggressively when it rang again. I slept horribly.

I wasn't sure if it was because I was anxious over Friday night—tonight!— or, for some reason, I thought maybe I slept so poorly because I didn't have Everett with me.

Either way, it sucked.

I spent too long getting ready today, I was sluggish, delayed by my weariness. When I finally arrived, I had to get a late slip from the office for first period. Mom was not happy last night over my missing four periods—which I lied very horribly to get out of.

Everett didn't drive me today, but I did get multiple worried texts this morning. This time, I was sure to respond and reassure him I was quite alright, just very tired.

It turned out I didn't just have Grayson in history, to my surprise we both spotted each other in psychology. He dropped his jaw comedically before giggling, ducking his head and tip toeing over to my empty table.

Everett texted me to go to English during academic seminar, not that we needed the extra time to work, but I was happy to have an excuse to see him longer than usual. Grayson tagged along with his goofy self, sneaking into the classroom, though Mr. Lindsay was so mellow I was sure he wouldn't mind anyway.

We sat in the back corner as there was no seating arrangements during academic seminar. We took this as an excuse to fool around, which was more than refreshing. It was rare I saw Everett in a playful mood, and when I first walked into the classroom I could very clearly see how tense he was, so I was relieved to see him grinning.

We spent lunch with Asher again, who seemed even more devilish than yesterday. It was weird, like football was back in season, the three boys were hyped and their nerves were high.

What was I getting into?

I wanted to be just as excited as the other boys, but I spent the day debating what they were involved in. A fight club? Is that what Everett meant when he said there were signs right in front of me? Is that where he got his cut from?

Oh, no.

What if they had to do with drugs?

I pushed my tray away, crossing my arms and leaning on the lunch table. Everett was watching me eat like usual, and I could see him in my peripheral view frowning at my loss of appetite.

He didn't say anything though, after all I had almost eaten everything.

Everett did admit that his side hustle was dangerous. Did he get paid for it? Wait, what if it was just some internship? What if he was part of a construction crew and I had blown it terribly out of proportion! Maybe he misused a tool, or something fell on him when he wasn't wearing his hard hat, and that's how he got the cut! Oh god, this was humiliating!

I slowly turned away from him, resting my temple on the palm of my hand.

But if it was something as simple as that, why was he so secretive? If it were really just something like a construction job, why couldn't he just say so?

It couldn't be that. He had led me to believe it was really, really dangerous.

What could it be, then?

I spent the rest of my lunch conjuring up more theories in silence, though I was sure the debate was clear on my face.

I was still quietly pondering—the question was eating me alive— when I was violently pulled from my thoughts as Everett walked me to History. That sensation I thought of so often and was very much infatuated with returned. His big hand was warm around my own. I looked up at him without a clue what was going on.