Page 15 of A Scandal in Homeroom
He huffed. “You know, you’re the only dealer I know who doesn’t take cash for his product.”
“Information is far more valuable to me.”
I took out the small bag of pills I’d tucked inside the pocket of my black trench coat. He reached for the bag, but I pulled it back and shook my head.
“You go first.”
“Yeah, I placed a bet with Wick. There isn’t a guy in this school with money who hasn’t. It’s all harmless fun.”
“Fun,” I repeated, thinking back to my exchange with Irene. We weren’t supposed to have fun.
“No one is getting hurt. A couple of girls getting their cherry popped. Happens every year. Big fucking deal. Besides the Freshman Bait List, that’s small potatoes compared to the real game in town.”
Curiosity piqued.
“Another game? Something I can get into?”
He shook his head. “Nah, brah. Invite only.”
“How do I do that?”
“You gotta know the right people. Double my order and I could put in a word.”
I reached inside my pocket and took out another similarly sized bag.
“I’ll double your order if you tell me who I can talk to.”
The meathead seemed to mull it over. Then nodded.
“Coyle Simmons. Senior, blond hair. Bad complexion. You let him know you’ve got some scratch and you’re looking for some entertainment. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Of course not,” I said. I handed both bags of pills over to him and he quickly left after that.
I tried not to smile at my deception. Really, though? Not in school for three days when someone asked me if I couldhook them up. Very cheeky of these Americans. I suppose I should be worried I give off aI’m a drug dealervibe, but instead I decided to use it my advantage.
Pills for information. It wasn’t my fault they were too stupid to distinguish an M from an E.
Another game. Something with more at stake than the Freshman Bait List. I knew already the betting for that was pretty high.
How much money did the people have in this town?
Apparently, I had to find a senior with a bad complexion named Coyle.
* * *
Saturday
Midnight
Thornfield Home
Reen
I watchedthe girls weave their way through the poker tables delivering drinks.
Given that I was working with basically a large cement block as a room, I had to find other creative ways to provide the patrons with ambiance. All in all, I was rather pleased with the affect.
I’d decided to lean into the creepy basement feel. Black throw rugs under each of the tables. I’d bought lush red material that I used as draping to cover parts of the cement walls. It was just the cheapest red satin I could afford by the yard, but hung in a way that made you feel you were somewhere other than a basement.
