Sympathy For The Devil

7. Into the Haystack

Kevin glanced around the track team's locker room, shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder, and heaved a sigh.

On the scale of preferable punishments, campus cleanup lay somewhere between detention and suspension, and fell just beyond the dreaded, mortifying phone call home. Luckily his parents had understood how completely ridiculous this was, so he wouldn't be getting into any trouble with them, but nonetheless, here he was, about to spend the better part of his lunch period neatening up a room whose very air was polluted with testosterone, Axe spray, and the stench of sweat. Besides, he had more important things to worry about, such as whether or not he could actually pull this off.

He shook himself, slipped the strap of his bag over his head to keep it from sliding from his shoulder, opened up his trash bag, and got to work.

He had been presented with a very rare opportunity, he mused as he picked up empty bottles, scraps of paper, and the odd wrapper. Somewhere in this room, possibly, were Eddward's stolen dogtags. Emphasis on possibly - he only knew for sure that they had stashed them here immediately after stealing them. Whether or not the track field's locker room had become their permanent hiding place was anyone's guess. Furthermore, even if it was, he had no way of knowing where they might be. Which, he supposed, was why it was convenient that his pretense of cleaning the place gave him the chance to poke around.

Kevin continued scanning the floor, going from one aisle between lockers to the next, and frowning at them. He had no time to figure out how to pick combination locks, so if they were stashed in one of the lockers, then he was out of luck, and maybe he could just wait until Marie got back, spill everything to her, and let her fix it. That would have been the smart thing. The easy thing.

Of course, by then it might be too late. The flu tended to last over a week, and in that time, the thieves would have ample opportunity to move the dogtags, throw them out, or find an actual dog to put them on, and they could very well be gone for good.

He ventured into the bathroom next, and grimaced as he began sweeping up pieces of toilet paper and paper towels. At least he was only required to pick up trash. Anything else would have been completely unbearable.

In any case, he decided quickly, the dogtags were not there. Where else was there to look?

The office in the back was shut, and the lights were off. Kevin tested the door and found it unlocked, before opening it and flicking the lights on. There were only a few pieces of trash on the ground, which he picked up and threw away immediately. His obligation done, he glanced around the room.

The desk held no obvious clue, and he wasn't quite bold enough to search through the drawers - which were probably locked anyway. Out of curiosity he tried one, and sure enough, it refused to open. Grumbling in annoyance, he cast about for anything, any place the stupid things could possibly be.

His eyes fell upon a large white plastic tub in the corner, filled to the brim with rumpled sweatshirts. The words "Lost and Found" were scrawled on the side in black marker. He bit his lip nervously, with a backward glance at the locker room entrance.

If they aren't in there, he vowed to himself, you're done. You're waiting for Marie.

Kevin knelt by the tub and began to sift through it. His hand touched something decidedly wet, and he jerked it back with a noise of disgust. Changing tactics, he lifted out each item between this thumb and forefinger, and deposited them in a pile on the floor beside him.

"Why do I do this to myself," he groaned, upon finding a stained pair of gym shorts. Once the tub was nearly empty, he picked up one end of it and gently shook it.