When The Rain Stops (BXB)

Chapter 11

Room 223 is the geography room. It's also windowless. Which makes me feel fucking fantastic. Like I'm about to walk into the room where I'm about to die. It's great.

Also, I only figure out (again) that it's 223 because 225 is locked and dark. And, unless they're really good spies, I doubt they're in there. Also Paige's in 223 but she isn't paying attention to me pacing back and forth outside.

"You okay?" I jump and stumble backwards. Owen's looking at me like I have four heads. "It's just the geography room." He steps forward and opens the door. "You don't have to come in if you don't want to." But he goes in anyway.

"Come on." I slap myself in the face. "Stop bein' such a fuckin' pussy," I mutter. I bounce back and forth on my feet for a minute before Owen opens the door again, looking at me like I'm deranged.

I'm basically pumping myself up, in an empty hallway, after school, to go into a giant empty closet.

So he just grabs my backpack strap and pulls me in. "Watching that was pathetic," he says, closing the door behind me.

It's real lowkey. Probably six or seven people're here. There's no teacher.

Paige grabs me and shoves me into a chair. "Let's get something straight, Princess," she says, sitting across from me. "Just because you're here doesn't mean we're gonna do things any differently, got it?" When I nod, she glares. "Good." Paige looks at everyone else and asks, "How's everyone doing today?"

They all grumble.

Owen sits down on the teacher's desk, notebook in hand. He rolls up the baggy sleeves of his sweater. They fall back down. "Okay, notes from last week..." He pauses, side-eyeing me. Like he's waiting for me to do something. "Uh, Harrison and Everett were talking about promoting the club again." He gestures to the guy with the bleach-blonde hair. He's the only one sitting on the same side of the room as me. And then he nods to the guy with the shaved head. "Anything you guys wanted to say there?"

Harrison shakes his head. "No, not really."

I'm surprised. The guy's probably 6 feet tall and he's got the quietest voice I've ever heard. It almost sounds like a girl's.

Shaved-head guy shrugs. "Ditto."

"Great," Owen says real concise-like. "No repeats." He aggressively draws a line through the thing (I'm assuming) in the notebook.

"W-wait," I say. I raise my hand.

Owen blinks. "Just talk. This isn't class."

"O-oh." I drop my hand. "Wh...what happened last time you guys promoted the club?"

Owen smiles, tosses his notebook in the air, and leans back on the desk. "Who wants to tell him?"

"I will," a girl says. She looks at me and says, "Do you remember that big paper mache debacle last year the seniors did?"

I don't know what "debacle" means, but I remember what the seniors did. They plastered over the principle's front door. "Y-yeah."

The girl tilts her head forward.

I tilt my head forward. I'm...supposed to do this, right?

"For fuck's sake," Owen sighs. "Those were our posters. All of them. Every single one of them."

"...o-oh." I look away. "I...remember that, yeah." This was a mistake.

But I don't get the chance to leave because Owen stands up and leans against the desk. "Guys, this is Jackson. He's in my math class."