King of Forgotten Clubs Page 5

  “Let’s go.” I reached for Annabelle’s hand.

  We headed back out onto the street. I didn’t turn back to watch Dancy slam the door behind us.

  Annabelle squinted up at the sky. “Not quite damsel-ish, is she?”

  “No.” I held back a hysterical laugh.

  “But, hey, you got to save me.”

  “You were already loose when I got there. Did you knock out Vince?”

  “Only a little bit. Anyway, when it comes to presents and rescue attempts, it’s really the thought that counts. So”—Annabelle tilted her head toward me—“where’s my money?”

  “About that.” Behind us, I could hear breaking glass followed by shouting. I walked faster. Annabelle followed suit. “It’s about to be checked into evidence. I’m pretty sure you’ll get it back. I know people.”

  “Uh-huh,” Annabelle said.

  We reached the car. I opened the passenger door for Annabelle. She rolled her eyes and got in. Madison was already in the driver’s seat. I settled into the back.

  “What was with the sandwich?” I asked as she started the car.

  “Sandwich?” Madison said.

  “Yeah, in the lunch box. I was at least expecting a thermal detonator or something.”

  Madison looked thoughtful for a second. “Oh. I think that was my brother’s lunch.” She nodded. “That explains the text message.”

  I decided not to ask.

  CHAPTER TEN

  How to Stay

  And finally, Exhibit L: I fail to learn anything.

  “Are you going to call them?”

  Annabelle had found me in the same park she’d dumped me in. She carried an ice cream cone and an apology. I wasn’t sure what she thought the apology was for. None of this had been her fault.

  At her question, I looked up from the phone I’d been flipping in my hands. After the stealing and ripping of contacts from this one, I’d considered replacing it, then decided I couldn’t afford it. “The police?”

  Annabelle smiled and sat down beside me. “Your parents. But the police could be good, too.”

  “I think they’ve pretty much got it wrapped up. I already gave my statement.”

  Annabelle nodded then began demolishing her ice cream cone in enormous bites. I could only assume she had a supernatural immunity to brain freeze.

  “They miss you,” she said between bites.

  “The police or my parents?”

  She shoved me. “You know they do. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  I did know.

  Annabelle finished her ice cream and stood up. “Ow.” She rubbed her head. “Brain freeze. This always happens.”

  “Then why don’t you eat slower?”

  She shrugged. “Guess I’m not good at learning.”

  I turned the phone over in my hands again. Maybe that whole hierarchy of needs thing didn’t work very well for me because I wasn’t any good at going after what I needed. Or maybe fulfillment wasn’t something I could achieve when I was stumbling around mucking things up, and that was what it meant.

  I slid the phone back in my pocket. Tomorrow. I’d call them tomorrow. Maybe by then, I’d have it all figured out.

  In conclusion, neatly ordering your needs and checking them off like a to-do list only works for psychologists and accountants. The rest of us have to stumble through life one terrible decision at a time and, after the smoke clears, worry about how to get what we need.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  How to Begin

  Pak watched the pages print, then checked the clock on the wall again. Two minutes until class. He’d been lucky he’d managed to spend his study hall working on the computer in the library. The printer whirred as it finished the last page.

  Pak gingerly picked up the hot pages. The first sentence stared mockingly up at him. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is a load of shit.

  He slumped in his chair. He couldn’t turn that in, not without being sent back to a seemingly endless string of counselors and group therapy sessions. He grabbed the trash can under the computer desk and tilted it to dump the papers in.

  Annabelle shoved the back of his chair. “Got your paper?” She popped a gum bubble centimeters away from his face.

  “No. Couldn’t think of anything to write for the Looney.”

  She nodded sagely. “I went with a comparison of animal rights activists and Nazis. Threw in a jab at religion, too, just to make sure I got the A.”

  “Sounds brilliant.” Pak turned away from her so she couldn’t see his face. Trust Annabelle to know exactly what strings to pull to get everyone around her to dance. Trust me to walk away from something right before I realized I wanted it. He took a deep breath and crumpled the papers in his fist.

  “What were you working on if it wasn’t your paper?” She leaned over his shoulder. “New school applications for when they throw you out of this one?”

  “Only if you’ll transfer with me.” The line was so badly delivered it barely counted as a joke at all. He cleared his throat. “No. It was supposed to be my paper, but it turned out wrong.”

  “Too many semicolons?” Annabelle rubbed her arms, awkwardly looking away from him.

  “I think I wrote it for you.” The words sounded right as soon as he said them. “I mean, you don’t have to read it. But I wrote it for you.” Pak set the paper on the desk in front of her then walked away.

  When he looked back, Annabelle was still frozen in place, staring at the pages as if they were a living thing that could, at any moment, choose to hop down from the desk and bite her ankles.

  “I’m sorry,” she said before he could make it out the door. “I’m so sorry.”

  He didn’t want to know what that answer meant.

  The End.

  For now.