Such an idiot.
Dane is twenty-one, but he never quite figured himself out after high school. He still lives in his parents’ house, loves to make music, but he’s in no hurry to be someone by a certain age. I wish I could let things go as easily as he does.
I let out a calm breath and look over at him, guilty that he’s still a good friend, and I’ve been a shitty one lately. “I’m sorry about the band.”
After Annie died I couldn’t see anything beyond that. I started skipping school, I left the band, I stopped trying to have a relationship with my dad…
He was destroyed, losing Annie, and I went through the motions for a couple months, sticking around, but we couldn’t mourn together, and I couldn’t stay to watch. He was sad. I was angry. Losing her only broke whatever small link we had to each other.
And my piece-of-shit mother never even showed up to the funeral. Every day I think about it, I get more livid.
But Dane just shrugs. “We’re killing time until you’re ready to come back,” he tells me. “You know we’re not shit without you.”
“Yeah, well… I haven’t written in months. It’s gone, so don’t wait for me.”
After I left the band, the guys all stepped in and carried on with three people. They still perform here and there, and the summer tour is still on. I know Dane is hoping I’ll be back on track by then, but I have zero interest. When I lost Annie, I lost Ryen, too, and now nothing is speaking to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever have anything to write or anything more to say.
“What’s this?”
I cast a glance over at Dane who holds Ryen’s white notebook, fanning the pages as he looks inside.
“Are you writing, after all?” he asks but then stops on a page. “Nope. This is a girl’s writing.” He continues to read and then lets out a little laugh. “A very bad girl’s writing. Who is she?”
I snatch the notebook away from him and drop it to the seat. “My muse.”
“Does she want it back?”
I smile to myself. “More than anything.”
And he grabs his seatbelt, fastening it. “Well, then let’s go.”
Walking into the school, I hear the distant hum of a vacuum cleaner, probably coming from the library, since that’s the only room that I’ve noticed in the school with carpeting.
I cast a look left. A janitor must be in there. I’m not sure how many there are, but there has to be more than one with a school this size.
My school, Thunder Bay Prep, is a bit smaller but, in many ways, a lot nicer. Falcon’s Well has almost no security—I glance up at the cameras that are being installed but are not yet active—and the Athletics here suck.
The hallways are dark, classroom doors are closed, and since we noticed the parking lot was nearly empty on the way in, that means the lacrosse, cheer, and track practices must be done for the night.
Maybe a few teachers are lurking on the second and third levels, but other than the janitors, only Ryen is left, teaching down in the pool.
I walk up to the front office doors, glancing around me to make sure we’re alone, and hand the notebook to Dane. “Hold this.”
“What are we doing?” He pulls up the hood on his black sweatshirt, nervously looking up at one of the dead cameras.
I slip out a tension wrench from my jeans pocket and immediately dig back in, feeling for the paperclip I swiped off a page in Ryen’s notebook. I unwind the clip and straighten it, bending the end just slightly.
Dane watches as I insert the wrench, applying pressure and feeling which way has more give, before sticking the paper clip into the lock and working the pins, pressing all five of them up until they click. I add pressure to the wrench and then…
Click.
The lock turns, and the door opens.
“Where’d you learn that?” he whispers, sounding surprised.
“YouTube. Stop talking.”
We both dive into the dark office, quickly scanning the area to make sure it’s empty. The desks behind the counter sit vacant, and I shoot my eyes left, seeing Mrs. Burrowes written on a door. I walk over and jiggle the handle, finding it locked as well. Inserting the wrench, I work quickly and feel relief when the handle finally gives way, the door opening wide.
I stare into the office, amazed that this actually worked. I’ve never picked a lock before, until I Googled how this afternoon and practiced on some rusty old doors at the Cove.
“The Principal’s Office.” Dane inches in, filling the doorway with me. “I spent a lot of time in one of these. I think they gave me my diploma just to get rid of me.”