Freddie was devastated. Defeated. Destroyed.
The entire ride to school was a melancholic affair of soaking clothes and soaking biscuits. No one had said anything. All the fun from before had vanished, and as far as Freddie was concerned, Lance Bass's magic must have ended.
The keychain had betrayed her. Theo Porter was the actual devil. A pox on him and a pox on Allard Fortin Preparatory School.
At least Freddie wasnt wearing Xena today—her Nikon F100 camera that she'd saved up all year to buy. Usually Xena lived around her neck, but Freddie had loaned it to her mom the day before for some promo photographs of the Village Historique.
Now here Freddie was, staring dejectedly into her locker. Her wool sweater stank in that manure way that only wool could, and she didn't have anything else to wear.
She moaned and banged her head against the metal frame. Hadn't she been through enough on Wednesday night with the screams and the arrests and her lost scarf?! Then yesterday's suicide that wasn't a suicide, and now today's almost perfect morning had been ruined by a villainous out-of-towner stealing the most sacred object of the Berm High senior class.
The thought of going to first-period chorus and singing cheerful show tunes sounded truly torturous—and that made Freddie angry too! Normally, she loved Mr. Binder. Not only was he the chorus and drama teacher, but he also ran three local shops: West End Wines, Pottery-a-Plenty, and finally, the Frame & Foto.
With its state-of-the-art darkroom, Freddie loved the Frame & Foto. Especially since Mr. Binder's partner Greg had taught Freddie how to use it a year ago, and now she had her very own key for developing Xena's photos whenever she wanted.
Doodle-loo, doodle-loo doo, doodle-loo doo, doo!
The Nokia ringtone sounded from behind the locker door. Freddie slammed it shut, expecting to find Divya staring at a surprise phone call. Instead, she found Kyle staring at one.
"I don't know this number." His brow pinched up adorably. In his right hand was a letterman jacket. In his left was the Nokia.
Doodle-loo, doodle-loo doo, doodle-loo doo, doo!
"Should I answer?" he asked Freddie.
"Um." Freddie had no idea what to say. She was already reeling from the fact that he was standing right next to her.
Fortunately, Kyle came to a decision on his own. "I probably shouldn't answer at school." He hit a button and shoved the device into his pocket. Then he lobbed his green eyes onto Freddie. "Hello." He beamed. "I brought this for you to wear, since I think your sweater might be . . ." His nose curled as he offered her the jacket.
She flushed.
"You don't have to wear it, though," he added. "I just thought you might want—"
"Yes." Freddie snatched the letterman from him with far too much enthusiasm. Then laughed, high-pitched and twittery. "Thank you. I . . . I'll return it after school."
"Sounds good." He shifted his weight. Glanced once at his toes. Then at Freddie's locker. Then finally he blurted, "What are you doing this afternoon?"
Freddie's breath caught. "Uh . . . nothing, I guess."
"Nothing? On a Friday?" His green eyes widened.
"Er . . ." Freddie wasn't about to admit that she and Divya usually spent Fridays at Divya's house watching TGIF on channel 9.
Kyle angled in closer, and Freddie prayed her breath didn't stink of biscuits. He was so close—close enough that she could smell him. A soft, manly soap smell that made her want to produce guttural noises in the back of her throat.
YOU ARE READING
The Executioners Three
Teen Fiction*A Wattpad Editor's Choice* Freddie kissed him again. He groaned and pressed into it. Deepened it immediately, kissing her so hard, she thought he might draw blood. She liked it. But then he was pulling away. Backing away three steps, and freezing...
