Prom Ghosts (A Perry Moxley & Harry Singer Story)

Kicked Out

Chapter Seventeen (Kicked Out)

Perry

My heels clicked against the floor as I strode across the marble floors of the school's library. I scanned the whole of the library until my gaze settled on my target. My eyes narrowing into slits, I marched towards the table that Harry Singer solely occupied.

I planted both fists on my hips as I stood over him, watching him with loathing and disgust. He was sat leaned all the way back on his seat with his hands clasped over his stomach and his feet propped up the desk. A pair of dark tinted shades was resting on top of his eyes. The audacity of this guy.

"Hello," he says. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

I slammed the mock up book on the table and made him jump. At the same time, it caught the attention of Mrs. Weaver, our snippy resident librarian. She held out a long bony finger against her thin lips and glared at me through her cat eye spectacles. I cringed and threw her an apologetic look before turning back to Harry.

"I badly want to kill you right now," I say through clenched teeth.

"Why?" he asks, trying to act all innocent like. "What'd I do this time?"

My lips curled into a snarl. It took a lot of willpower trying to control the urge to wring his neck until it snaps. I pulled my arms down to my sides and closed my fingers into fists. "But before that," I said, releasing a puff of air through my mouth as I tried to force out my words. "I need your help."

"Oh?" His bushy brows rose and he slid his glasses down his nose a bit. "Well, well, now this is interesting."

I bit the inside of my cheeks. "Okay, listen," I say. "We need to go back."

His eyes were focused on his fingernails, probably trying to find a hangnail or an ingrown. "Go back where?" he asks lazily.

"You know," I insisted, planting my palms on the tabletop. "Back there."

He slowly glances up at me in sloth-like fashion that began to infuriate me. "Now you want to go back?" he asks, shaking his head. "You're funny, Moxley, you know that."

"It's not like I want to," I chewed on my lip. "But I think I may have left something in there and I need to go back."

"You think you left something?" he sneers.

"Yes," I nodded, my foot impatiently tapping in the floor. Do I have to repeat every word I say? How dumb is this guy? "So, help me."

He stares at me through his tinted shades and let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. "You know, I'd love to," he said. "But there's just one problem."

With a smug grin, he cocks his head to the side. "I've changed my mind," he says. "Too bad."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Hey, you could always ask your brothers to escort you back there," he offered.

"I can't do that," I told him. "They will grill me if they learned that I snuck out into the night with the most arrogant imbecile on the face of earth."

"Who?"

"That's you, you moron!"

"So?" he raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong with that?"

"Everything!" I hissed.

Mrs. Weaver's raspy voice cut through the air, silencing us both. "Ms. Moxley, if the both of you won't quiet down then, if you please, leave the premises."

My cheeks flamed. I've never been kick out of anywhere before. Not especially from the library, of all places, my own haven.

Harry swung his legs off the table and went to grab his coat before striding out across the room. He gives the old librarian a salute to provoke her even more. I could feel the gazes of the other students following me and boring into the back of my head as I scuttled after him, my eyes casted down low and unable to bring myself to meet Mrs. Weaver's scrutinizing glare as I head out through the library doors.

"Mrs. Weaver now officially hates me," I groaned the moment I was out in the corridor. "I just violated the one sacred rule of the library. I'm banned from the library. This is horrible!"

"Oh my God, will you just chill?" Harry exclaimed, rolling his eyes towards oblivion. "The old hag just told you off a bit. It happens to everybody. It's not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say!" I wailed.

I was almost in tears so I planted my palms into my face. Harry Singer snorted and placed his elbow on top of my head as we stalked the hallway. Did I look like a freaking armrest to him now?

"So, what time shall we meet tonight?" he asked all of a sudden.

I shrugged his arm off my head and stepped away, giving him a puzzled look.

"I'll meet you after lights out, then," he winked.

"Why would I meet you after lights out?" I asked, lowering my voice as a student passed us by.

"I thought you needed to go back there," he shrugged and wriggled his fingers right at my face in an attempt to spook me. "Back to the West Sides."

"Is this one of your stupidly annoying games?" I say, heaving out an exhausted sigh.

"I didn't know we were playing games," he says innocently.

I gave him a weary and unamused look.

"Honest," he shrugged, whistling as he casted a glance down the watch on his wrist. "Well then, I will see you later tonight, Perry Moxley. Be on the wait for me, yeah?"

With a cluck of his tongue and a suggestive wink, he slung his coat over his shoulder and strode off leaving me there standing in the middle of the hall like some nincompoop.