Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,30

“Or at least that we were talking about our responses to your disappearance.”

Mary smiles. “It would be insincere to say I didn’t know that.”

“Any problem for you if we continue with our discussion?”

“No.”

“Then, where were we?” Logs says.

Bobby Wright raises his hand. “Taylor was talking about bad guys.”

Justin’s head snaps up. “Bobby, my man,” he says. “That’s what I mean. Front and center.”

“There’s not much more to say,” Taylor says, shifting in her seat. “I went home sick yesterday after this class. I hate even talking about that crap.”

“You want to stop?” Logs asks.

Taylor looks at her desk. “I’m okay.”

“What about your mom?” Hannah asks softly. “Guys like that have to have a way in.”

“That’s my mom,” Taylor says. “A way in.”

“No offense,” Hannah says, “but file that under ‘Why Some Women Need Two Assholes.’”

Paulie says, “Sweet, Hannah.”

Hannah stares ahead as if she didn’t hear.

“Who cares?” Taylor says. “The day I’m eighteen I’m out of there, even if I have to live in a cardboard box.”

“If it comes to that, give me a call,” Hannah says.

Justin says, “You got a cardboard box?”

Hannah doubles her fist and Justin raises his hands in surrender.

“Why is everything a joke to you, Justin?”

“Because everything is a joke,” Justin says. “Sometimes it’s a serious joke, but it’s a joke just the same.”

“That’s just stupid.”

“Some jokes are,” Justin says, and turns sideways in his chair to face Hannah. “We’re sittin’ in this nice safe room trying to figure out why Taylor’s momma picks shitheads for boyfriends, or why Mary disappears and won’t tell us why really, or whether guys are assholes for having brains in our di . . . not in our heads. Everybody acts like they don’t know what bull it is when Arney goes Oprah on us at the same time he’s messin’ with Bobby, so we go ahead and pretend like we believe he’s gonna lead us to having each other’s backs.” He looks at Arney and rolls his eyes.

“Look, I apologized,” Arney says. “And I don’t need you to believe me in order to do what’s right.”

“Good,” Justin says back, “because I don’t. We been buds a long time, Arney, but that doesn’t mean I buy your stuff.” He turns back to Hannah. “So that’s why everything’s a joke to me, Hannah Murphy.”

A muffled sob comes from the back of the room and all eyes fall on Kylie Clinton, face against a desktop, body shaking. A hush falls over P-8 and Logs raises a hand. “This might be a good day to cut it short,” he says. “Why don’t we call it quits and you can all take a little break and be on time to your next class for the first time this year.”

Mary gets up slowly, eyes locked on Kylie.

Arney touches Mary’s elbow, nods toward the exit, pushes her gently in that direction.

The rest of the students gather their things and file silently out.

Paulie gives Logs a quick see you at the lake, throws his backpack over one shoulder, and heads to AP English.

Logs says softly to Bobby, who lingers at the door, “Would you hang out here in the hall for a while and tell my next class to wait if any of them shows early? I’ll write you an excuse.”

With the door closed and guarded, Logs sits in the chair next to Kylie. No acknowledgment, and the sobs continue. “Do you want to talk about it?” he says.

Head buried in her arms, she shakes it no.

“Would you like to see a counselor?”

The head shake is more emphatic.

Kylie’s an unknown to Logs, pretty, quiet, new to Heller this year.

“Make you a deal. I’ll take my next class across the hall; Ms. Kaywood’s got prep. You stay here as long as you want and I’ll cover for you with whatever your next class is, okay?”

“Fancher,” Kylie says into the desk.

“No sweat. He owes me. But you have to talk to me before you go home today, okay? Or at least to one of the counselors.”

“You,” Kylie says.

“Promise?”

She nods.

Logs gathers material for his next class and moves quietly out of the room, thanking Bobby for standing guard on his way across the hall.

Logs stands in Ms. Kaywood’s classroom, watching Kylie Clinton through the window. She’s sitting in his classroom staring straight ahead. A light rap on the door. He walks over and opens it.

“What’s up, Arney?”

“You mind if I have a quick word with Kylie? I know her, I might be able to help.”

Logs breathes deep. He knows from experience