Page 103 of Crew
Race looked between us before letting out some air and standing up. "Move back."
I did, and he came around the desk.
Race hit a bunch of buttons, ones I hadn't known were there, and a couple seconds later, all of the screens went blue. He backed up, closing the cupboard and relocking it. "You have to erase everything, otherwise there's a memory storage thing. It's gone now."
Jordan gave him a nod. "Thank you." He motioned to Cross and me. "Let's go."
"Coming." I started out behind him, but turned back.
Cross was right behind me, and we both looked back at Race.
He'd dropped the keys back on the desk and returned to his chair. His gaze flicked up to us, and this time, I felt like I saw the real guy in there. There was sadness.
He sat alone in that chair, and it seemed a metaphor for his life. He was alone.
Cross must've thought the same because he dipped his head in a nod. "Thanks, man."
Race dipped his head down, giving us a wave. "See you guys later."
Cross nodded back in acknowledgement, and we stepped out of the office just as a woman came in--Race's mom. I recognized her right away. She had his same round face, the same pinched nose, and eyes a little too close. But I saw her sadness too.
She went in behind us, and we heard her say, "Race, honey."
"Hey, Mom."
Cross touched my back, a silent urge to keep going.
The security guys would go to the fields. They'd find no one, figure it was nothing, and return to their break. No one would think anything. No one would say a word.
We'd be fine. Knowing that, some pressure lifted from my shoulders.
Then Cross said, "I know what Race said the other night, but he still likes you."
His words stopped me.
Maybe. Jordan had gone ahead, gone back to our class, so it was just Cross and me in that hall. For a moment, we had a pocket of privacy at school, and I felt emotions flare up in me that I needed to acknowledge.
There could've been a Race and me. In another year, another school, another time. But not today. Not this year. Not at this school. Not in this hallway.
Cross was worried about Race. I could see it in his eyes.
I should've stopped. I should've stopped him, stopped me, stopped everything.
But I didn't want to.
I looked him right in the face, and I didn't flinch when I said, "It doesn't matter now."
I stared at the guy I had feelings for.
Dinner. 8 tonight. Pizzeria.
I stared at the text Channing sent me, but I couldn't believe it. I re-read it. Still there. I read it a third time. Nope. It wasn't changing. I even went letter by letter to make sure.
According to this text--if it was sent by my brother, if someone hadn't stolen his phone or one of his crew guys wasn't playing a prank--he wanted to meet me at one of the only normal hangouts in Roussou.
We had the springs not far away. And there was Manny's in Fallen Crest. After that, to each their own. We had Jordan's warehouse. The Ryerson crew hung out at Alex's house.
But the Pizzeria was the only local public option, and it was mostly filled up with team events or family dinners. The basement had a pool table, foosball, and an air hockey machine. There were a few other machines too. I think they had a dance-hop. Those weren't my scene.
