Page 74 of A Scandal in Homeroom
“Your shirt. Or Locke’s shirt. There’s a quote.”
I looked down at the words scripted on the front of the shirt.
When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
“Is that like a famous quote or something? Who said that?” I asked.
Both Beth and Janie shrugged.
“I did,” Locke answered from the doorway. The door had been open since Janie and Beth arrived.
We all turned in his direction.
“You had a T-shirt made with something you yourself said?” I asked him.
“Who does that?” Beth whispered to Janie.
“I find it useful to remind myself I’m brilliant every once in a while,” Locke said. “Now, if you ladies have all gotten up to speed, we’re going to be late for school. Irene, I had your uniform laundered overnight.”
He stepped into the room and dropped the neatly folded clothes on the bed.
Beth and Janie got up, and, sensing we needed some time alone, quietly left the room to head downstairs.
“I have a few things to say,” I said to him.
He nodded somberly.
“One, thank you for helping me last night. Two, I’m formally asking for your help to get me out of that poker game. Three, it’s official. I like you.”
“You like me?” he asked.
“Yeah, I really do. But I’m scared. Because I’ve never liked anyone like this before. So I’m probably going to screw it up really bad.”
“You already screwed up really badly by telling me you were only pretending to be interested in me.”
“There you go. That’s a very good example. Expect more screw-ups like that to occur.”
His lips tilted at the corners. “I’m probably going to screw up, too.”
I shook my head. “One of us should probably know what we’re doing, don’t you think?”
He blinked. “You think that’s supposed to be me?”
“You’re the brilliant one, remember?” I pointed to his shirt.Myshirt. He probably didn’t know yet, but this shirt was going home with me.
“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he ordered. “I’m already working on a plan.”
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” It seemed like the right time.
He cupped my face in his palm then, gently. “No. It would hurt you. I never want you to associate kissing me with pain. But the minute the bruising goes away…”
He trailed off his sentence like it was a threat, but I wanted to hear the answer.
“What?”
He stepped into my space. So close, my bare, T-shirt covered breasts were touching his chest.
“I’m going to ravish you.”
