Page 17 of The Darkest Note

Zane lifts his chin. “I don’t care about her.”

“No?” I ask.

“Not even a little?” Finn taunts.

“Look.” He points to his pants. “I’m over it. There’s nothing. No action.”

I snort and push Zane away. “No one wants to see that, you pervert.”

“I’m serious.” He swaggers forward. “Who’d want a stick-up-her-butt teacher anyway? Honestly?”

“It seems like somebody does,” Finn says.

Zane whirls around, almost slamming into our brother. “What?”

“Word on the street is she’s got a boyfriend. Some guy in a Lambo picked her up last week. Apparently, they looked cozy.”

“How do you know that?” Zane’s nostrils flare.

“Someone paid Jinx for the information.” Finn tilts his head. “Seems you’re not the only student at Redwood who’d like to bang our Lit teacher.”

Zane turns fully, his eyes pinned to Miss Jamieson. She’s in the hallway speaking to a student. Her laughter rings out over the chatter and thud of footsteps.

Zane’s body tenses and a vein pops out before he takes a deep breath.

“Whatever. Like I said. I don’t care.”

Finn and I exchange glances.

I laugh softly.

Finn chuckles.

Zane pierces us with his gaze. “I hate the both of you.” He sticks an accusing hand in my direction. “Who are you to judge me, huh? At least I wasn’t afraid to make my move. We all know that you’re a lost cause.”

“What are you talking about?” I growl.

“Soprano Jones or whatever her name was.” Zane points an accusing finger. “You were eye-banging her hard at the showcase, but you haven’t tried to find her.”

Something deep inside squeezes at the mention of the redhead.

I start walking. “We’re going to be late for class.”

“Since when did you care about being on time for class?” Zane accuses, speeding up.

Finn lounges behind us, but he’s still got that amused look on his face. They’re both annoying.

A musical chime fills the hallways, Redwood Prep’s version of a school bell. Kids rush past us, hurrying to their classes.

Zane curses. “I don’t even remember what class we’re supposed to be in right now.” He glances at Finn. “Do you?”

“I didn’t get a chance to check the schedules.”

“It’s Algebra,” I say.

Zane slings a hand over my shoulder. “I’m impressed, Dutch. You don’t normally care about that stuff.”

I grit my teeth. It’s not that I’m suddenly crazy about math. There’s just someone I have to meet in that class.

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