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“So what exactly are you doing here?” she said. When I held up my plate in answer, she laughed softly and said, “Don’t your parents feed you?”
“Considering my Pops is dead and Mama can barely feed herself, no, they don’t.”
Her face blanched. “Oh, fuck. I, uh —”
“Don’t start whimpering over me. I’ve been waiting for my old man to die for years, it was about damn time. Just a little inconvenient. I’m not sure if you know this, but that papery green stuff that buys food don’t exactly grow on trees.”
She fell silent. A microscope jab of regret made me sigh, but I didn’t have a damn thing to be sorry for. Jessica lived in her own little world and I wasn’t about to sugarcoat real life for the sake of her feelings. But her gaze had become distant, and for some damn reason, it made me want to keep talking.
“You’re here with your mama? You two coordinate your outfits on purpose?”
She winced. “No, we didn’t.” She was silent for so long, I thought she’d leave it at that. But then she said, “She wanted to talk to Mr. Kotham about an extra credit project for me. I just havesomuch on my schedule, I can’t always keep up with his assignments.”
She’d tried to sound nonchalant. It didn’t work. As she got to her feet, it was obvious that she was freezing her happy expression into place. She couldn’t let herself slip up for even a second.
I was suddenly so blindingly enraged I completely lost my appetite.
“I guess I’ll see you around,” she said, giving me a breezy wave of her fingers as she walked back inside. But I couldn’t manage a word in response.
Putting my remaining food away in the plastic baggies I brought, I returned to my car. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I made a mental note of where Kotham’s vehicle was parked. It was perfect, really: he’d parked all the way at the back of the lot, where almost no one else did, because he was so paranoid about his precious old Cadillac.
He’d taken good care of that car. It was pristine.
For now.
I parked around the block and walked back, cutting through a drainage ditch and across a field so I wouldn’t have to make my way along the sidewalk. Already, some of the other cars in the parking lot had departed. It was getting late and was dark enough for the street lights to pop on.
Crouching down behind the bushes, I pulled on the ski mask I’d brought from the car. Was it suspicious as hell that I kept a mask in my car? Yeah. Butobviouslyit came in useful.
After taking a careful look around, I popped open the switchblade from my pocket and approached the Cadillac. It was a baby blue ‘59 DeVille, and I couldn’t resist caressing my hand over its curves.
Then I jabbed the blade into the front tire, satisfaction melting through me at the hiss of air streaming out. I did the same to the other tires before I dragged the knife up and down the sides, carving up that perfect paint. Then I took a seat on the curb along the passenger side of the car, and waited.
After about twenty minutes, footsteps approached.
Mr. Kotham didn’t notice the damage at first, nor did he notice me as I crept up behind him. He was too busy fumbling with his keys, jabbing them awkwardly at his door handle. He must have forgotten his glasses tonight.
All the better for me.
Grabbing him from behind, I wrapped my belt around his neck and twisted it taut, until it was biting into his skin. He immediately began to choke, flailing against me. But he was clumsy, weak. He didn’t stand a chance.
“I’m not going to kill you tonight, Kotham,” I said, keeping my voice as low and rough as I could to disguise it. “But if I ever see you touch Jessica Martin again, I will. I’ll fucking murder you and bury your body in the woods.”
He coughed and choked, and I loosened the belt enough for him to suck in a tiny breath. “Kyle?” he wheezed. Even better that he thought I was Jessica’s boyfriend; he’d be far less likely to report this if he thought the school’sgolden boywas justifiably behind it.
“Now I suggest you start looking for another job,” I snarled. “Because in a few days’ time, everyone at this school is going to have proof you’re a creep.” It was an empty threat, but he didn’t know that. He stiffened up, and that told me he had plenty to hide. “I hope you sleep like shit, pervert.”
I tightened the belt again, enough to choke him out. His body went limp, and he slumped to the pavement, unconscious. It gave me the time I needed to slip away again, back to my car.
I never told anyone about that night. But Kotham quit the next day.
