In the Library

Chapter 3 .M.

"Thanks for the help yesterday, Mike." Mr. Wybore says trotting up to me in the hallway as I walk to third period. I eye him suspicisly over the rim of my glasses.

"Yeah, sure." I reply curtly. 

"How was it? He didn't come at you or try to pull anything, right?" He asks, completely oblivious or ignoring my cold mood. 

I shift my backpack strap across my chest, "I guess not. I read a little and then it was over." I stick my hands in my pockets, my fingertips brush over the library key. "Here, you'll want this back." I hold it out by the plastic tab out to Wybore. He takes it then presses it back in my hand. 

"I wasn't able to find anyone willing to watch the library on such sort notice, so I'm counting on you to day!"  Translation, No one was stupid enough to willingly sit in close proximity to a budding sociopathic thug for an extended period of time. 

I try and pull my hand away, but his thick fingered grip is surprising strong. He presses the small metal key into my flesh until I'm positive there'll be a indention mark. Mr. Wybore closes my fingers into a fist around the key.  

He looks up at me and smiles but his eyes remind me of a snake. Black and beady, plotting. He pats my shoulder and turns to walk away. "Remember our discussion for yesterday, and I'll sure we wont have a problem. Thanks again, Mike." 

The teeth of the key bite into my palm. 

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Sam sits back in his chair, balancing on the back legs. He clicks his tongue reproachfully. "Twice in two days. How does it feel to walk on the wild side, eh?" 

When I don't respond, Sam sits up, fours on the floor and leans over to prop his arm and head on my desk. "Dude, I was just joking about the hacking and porn thing yesterday. You know that, right?" 

I continue to ignore him, getting out my notes spiral and a pen. "It's not about that, okay." The words come out sharper then I meant. Sam scoots his chair over to the side of my desk, blocking the walkway between desk rows.

 "Then what?" 

I roll my pin against the metal coils of the notebook. "It's nothing." I try to change the subject. "So how was practice yesterday?" 

Sam scoffs. "Nice try, Ford. We're been friends since the second grade. I know when somethings bugging you. Now yell me." Sam snatches the pin out of my hand so I would stop tapping it. 

"Hey, I need that for class, you know." I make a weak attempt to grab the writing utensil back.  

He spins in the pen in his fingers like a drumstick. "Tell me, what's bugging you and I will." 

I reach for the pen again. 

"Sam, it nothing." 

Mr friend raises an eyebrow. "You're a bullshit lier, Micah Joshua Ford. But whatever, don't tell me. It's cool." Sam tosses the pen back at me and I catching. I set it on top of my notebook. Great now, Sam was mad and what right did he have pulling the middle name card? He wasn't my mother.

The class starts and the rest of day passes with out conflict or a trip to the blackmailing jelly belly.

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The final bell for the end of core classes sounds and everyone jumps up in a mad herd to get out of the door and to their resepective clubs. I take my time, zipping my pencil into its holding case, Sam had never given my back my pen, and close my journal. I bend at the waste to put everything neatly into my bag. When I sit up again I'm one of six  still gathering their stuff or talking.