Page 37 of Delinquent (Academy of Misfits 1)

The library itself takes up almost half of the first floor in the main building and sits directly next to the art studio. It’s light and airy, and perfect for drawing with all the natural light pouring through the floor to ceiling windows. Not only that, none of Monk’s crew would be seen dead in the library, and on the handful of occasions I’ve been up here, I’ve only ever come across one member of the No Name crew.

Today’s it’s just me and Ms Mariner, and that’s the way I like it.

Glancing over at her as she taps away at her computer, a pencil gripped between her teeth, I wonder why the library’s open on a Saturday given no one bothers to use it during the week, let alone the weekend. Not that it appears to bother Ms Mariner. I’m guessing she gets paid double time for coming in on the weekend and given she seems happy enough to be here, what do I care?

Placing my sketchpad and pencils onto the table, I open the pad up onto a clean page and begin to sketch. Like most times when I draw, I let my brain connect with my hand without too much thought as to what I’m about to draw. I kind of like it that way. On the streets back home that’s exactly what I’d do when out and about with my cans. I’d find the perfect wall and just start to paint. Eventually a mural would appear, then I’d slip off into the night leaving behind a piece of art just like Banksy, but without the notoriety or the cash.

Letting my mind wander, I press the tip of the pencil onto the paper. Before long an image begins to appear. For a fraction of a second I pause, then start shading in the detail, not allowing myself to question why I’m drawinghimof all people.

An hour or so later I’ve finished. Resting my pencil on the table, I lean back and look at my work. It’s one of my better portraits, which is unnerving given the subject matter. In all honesty, I’m not sure what to make of it.

“Well, well, if it ain’t our resident skank.”

Monk.

I react instantly snapping shut my sketchbook just before he gets to my table. He pulls out a chair and sits opposite me, flanked by two of his crew. The same two who grabbed me and held me back that day on the sports field.

“What doyouwant?” I ask, sliding my sketchbook it into my rucksack. There’s no way I’m keeping that within reach of this dickhead. There’s too much personal stuff in there. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t just do graffiti art. The sketchpad is filled with images of Braydon, Tracy and Eastern. Of late it has a few new faces too, and it’s those drawings in particular that I don’t want him to see, specifically not the one I’ve justdrawn. I’llneverlive that one down.

Monk watches me, his eyes narrowing as I zip up my bag. “I have a message for you,” he says, his gaze snapping to meet mine. This kid hates me. Like proper,I want to beat the crap out of her, kind of hate.

“More shit about my mother, I take it. Or perhaps you want to reiterate what a slut I am. Ormaybe, you want to finish what you started on the field?” I retort sarcastically. It’s risky giving him such mouth, but I can’t seem to help myself. It’s ingrained in me. Act first, think later. Typical Asia.

“We can get to that if you want, but first the message,” he responds, sliding the phone across the desk and tapping the screen.

I look down, my chest tightening as I see an image of Eastern.

“Play it,” Monk snaps.

Without hesitation, I press the play button, my throat constricting at the sight of my best friend. He looks exhausted, dark circles ring his eyes and his skin is pale. He has a black hoody pulled up over his head, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing the bruise blooming on his cheek. What the fuck has happened to him?

“I’m safe, Alicia. Don’t call me, it’s too hot right now. I’ll contact you when I can. Just don’t piss him off…”

The video stops abruptly. I’m pretty sure Eastern had more to say, but whoever was videoing him cut it short. Either that, or Monk has edited the video before letting me see it. What had Eastern meant, don’t piss him off? Don’t pissMonkoff? He’s asking for a miracle right there.

Monk snatches the phone up. “Better listen to lover boy,Alicia.Don’t pissmeoff.”

“Where’s the rest of it?” I snap, ignoring his remark and the fact he’s called me Alicia. If I let on how much I hate it, he’ll only use it to wind me up.

“That’s it.” He shrugs, giving me a look that tells me that most definitely isnotall of it.

“Liar!” I whisper-shout, trying not to get the attention of the librarian. She glances over at us both, her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. She knows as well as I do that Monk and his sidekicks aren’t here to study.

“Okay, you got me. Thereismore, but you don’t get to see it… unless,” he says, lowering his voice and giving me a nasty grin.

“Unlesswhat?”

“Unless you pay a visit to the Tower and join in on the festivities tonight.”

“Whatfestivities?” I ask. I know as little about what happens at the Tower as I did the first day I arrived here.

“If you come asmy date, you’ll find out.”

“Date? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” I almost puke up a little in my mouth.

“You want to see the rest of the video, that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“And if I say no?”

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