Page 33 of The Academy
“Thirty grand,” East says. “And thirty percent.”
Haz studies the kid: He’s good-looking with that dark hair, those hooded eyes, the lazy half smile. The other kids worship him, especially the girls—Haz has heard the third- and fourth-formers whispering. East’s superpower is that he holds himself aloof. Haz is surprised there are eight or ten kids East would even want to hang out with.
“Why do this?” Haz asks. “Are youtryingto get kicked out?”
“We both know that won’t happen,” East says. “I’m stuck here. I figured why not create something legendary, something Tiffin students will be talking about for generations to come?” East shrugs. “Plus, it’ll give me a sense of purpose. I’m fuckingbored,man.”
This is as good an answer as any, Haz thinks. He nods at the money in East’s hand, which in Haz’s mind has taken on a radioactive glow. There, he thinks, is the start of his new life: With thirty grand, he can pay off both credit cards. With the money he makes from supplying—he’ll tack on 50 percent, East will never know—he’ll have a down payment for a new truck. Plus—and this is shameful as hell to admit—Haz feels the same rush that he gets when he bets on a game.
“Is that my deposit?” he asks.
“It is,” East says, holding the money out.
Haz occasionally imagines opening his own place, an elevated cocktail spot. Wouldn’t this, in some twisted way, scratch that itch? (If it doesn’t get him fired. If it doesn’t get himarrested.)
“I have conditions,” Haz says.
East nods. “I thought you might.”
“One, no phones.”
“Love that rule,” East says.
“Two,” Haz says. “No drugs. No weed, no blow, no Molly, no gummies, and no pills. If I get any inkling about drugs, I shut it down.”
“Obviously no drugs,” East says. “Not after what happened.”
“Exactly,” Haz says. Cinnamon Peters OD’d on a combination of Valium, Xanax, and Ambien. A rumor went around the school that East sold her the drugs—because where else would she have gotten them? But Audre Robinson quickly quashed that rumor. Cinnamon had procured the drugs back in Wisconsin; the Peterses’ old-school family doctor had prescribed them for Cinnamon’s “mood swings,” and she’d been stockpiling.
“How are you proposing people sneak out?” Haz asks.
“Do you know who the dorm parents are this year?” East asks. “Rivera in North and Bergeron in South. Both newbies.”
“Right,” Haz says. He’d witnessed Bergeron drunk off her pretty little ass; Rivera had basically begged Haz not to mention it to anyone. East is right: Sneaking out won’t be a problem. Honey Vandermeid is a seasoned vet in South, but Haz has heard from old Jameson that Honey prowls around campus a bit herself at night. Roy Ewanick is the other dorm parent in North, but he’s nearly seventy and it’s unclear how effective his hearing aids are.
This could work,Haz thinks. “If you do get caught, you don’t know me.”
“I’ll say I have a supplier in the city,” East says.
Haz takes the money and shakes East’s hand. “You’ve got a deal.”
Suddenly a tremendous cheer goes up.Tiffin must have scored,Haz thinks. Thank god he didn’t end up betting Jameson.
He’s taking a much bigger gamble instead. This, he thinks, is the definition of risking it all.
The play “Around the Apple Tree” works like this:
Dub hands the ball off to Teague Baldwin and the Northmeadow defense thinks it’s just another run play, but then Teague hands it off to Hakeem and Hakeem spirals a perfect pass to Dub—receiver throwing to quarterback—who is wide open in the end zone. Dub spikes the ball and the crowd goes bananas.
Hakeem leaps into Dub’s arms. “We’re legends, man!”
Charley Hicks loves Friday night lights. The dorm empties out and she’s spared overhearing Olivia H-T trying to curry favor with Davi (Olivia’s Sephora order just arrived, does Davi want to film the unboxing?) or Madison R. asking if anyone has seen her Theragun because it’s gone missing from its case on top of her dresser.
Charley sets herself up at her desk with a Buffalo Chicken Caesar wrap and a Milky Way milkshake from the Grille and the copy ofDemon Copperheadthat Mr. Rivera lent her. It’s a reimagining ofDavid Copperfield,he said. When Charley admitted she hadn’t readDavid Copperfield,Mr. Rivera said, “Well, it’s just like the rest of Dickens. Bleak.” Although it pained her, Charley said, “I haven’t read any Dickens at all. I heard he used to get paid by the word and I like my fiction lean.” Mr. Rivera threw his head back to laugh and told her she was a delight.
Her phone dings with a text but she ignores it because she’scertain it’s her mother. Fran has been blowing up Charley’s phone about Family Weekend. She’s insisting on coming.
Don’t,Charley responded when Fran first told her. Then, to soften the blow, she said,It’s not really a thing.
