“Mason knows I have a reputation for being tough.”
“You have a reputation for being unstoppable. That’s what Kathryn told me.”
“See, that’s the thing. Nobody at this school has ever seen me in the ring. They don’t know whether I’m a champion or just mediocre. So I use that to my advantage. I act like a tough guy, and people actually believe I am. If you want to know, I was shaking in my boots when I saved you from Mason. I had seen him knock people around before. I knew what he was capable of. He probably could have kicked my butt all over the school, but he didn’t know that.”
Wow. To Egon’s credit, he was showing real humility for a pro fighter. “I don’t know whether I believe you’re afraid of Mason. You had a pretty convincing tough guy act. You stayed very cool.”
“That’s what I’m telling you, Rinnie. That’s the media act. I’m totally not at all cool. This”—he flourished his hands at himself—“is the real me. Give me a pair of thick glasses and an ascot and I can be a dweeb with the best of them.”
“Egon, nobody wears ascots anymore. Not even dweebs.”
“See, I’m not even qualified to be a dweeb.”
I smiled, staring at the tabletop. I quickly glanced up and Egon caught me. He smiled and looked away.
“Rinnie, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
The smile began tugging at my face again. “You have?”
He reached across the table and touched my arm. “I was just wondering if you’d like to hang out some time. I mean, it’s okay if you don’t—if you’re busy. I understand.”
I hoped that he didn’t feel my arm shaking. “That would be nice.”
Egon’s eyes lit up like stars. “Cool. Hey, I gotta get to class.”
Yeah. Cool. In a very hot way. I melted into blissful oblivion as Egon walked away from my table and disappeared through the library doors.
“You can come out now,” I said quietly.
Kathryn stepped out from behind the shelves. “How did you know I was there?”
I gave her a double palms up. “It’s my job.”
…
The algebra classroom sat on the sunny side of the school. Soft yellow light filtered in, reflecting warmly off the walls, casting a primrose hue across the linoleum floor. Old books stacked by the window, heated by the sun, gave off a pleasant musty scent that reminded me of the Greensburg Library. Under any other circumstance, the classroom would have been very calming. Unfortunately, it belonged to Dr. Captious, an annoying little man with the ego of a dragon and the temperament of a toy poodle.
“Books on the floor, eyes straight ahead,” he yipped, bouncing on his toes, hands behind his back, gazing at the ceiling. “This is your first algebra test this term, students. The required material is extremely difficult, beyond the ability of the average student. But fear not.”
“Here it comes,” Kathryn whispered.
I choked back a laugh.
“You are in my class,” Dr. Captious continued, “because you are qualified to receive exceptional instruction. Which you have. If you do well on my test, it is because I am an excellent teacher. If you do poorly, it is because you…are a poor student.”
I tried to imagine the type of animal Kathryn would use to describe Dr. Captious. He stood just over five and a half feet tall, and nearly as wide, with a pasty complexion, flat black eyes, and embarrassing hair. Hard as I tried, all I could picture was a cue ball with a bad comb-over.
As Dr. Captious reverently lifted a stack of tests from his desk, the classroom door burst open, and an animal I recognized strolled in. He glanced in my direction and a slight smile tugged at his lips. My first instinct was to stick my finger down my throat to show him how much I welcomed his charming face, but I controlled myself. If Andy was right, I might have to get close to Mason, which meant, nauseating as the thought was, I needed to play nice.
“Do you have a late pass, Mr. Draudimon?”
“Sorry, Dr. Captious,” Mason said. “Won’t happen again.”
“I’m counting on it,” Dr. Captious said. “Take your seat.”
Mason calmly gave me a noogie (the swine) on his way to his desk in the last row. As soon as he was seated, Dr. Captious began his ordeal of passing out tests. Normal teachers just hand them out. Captious makes a ceremony of it. He walked up and down each row, stopping in front of every student, handing over the test like he was awarding a trophy. Then he came to an empty desk and his expression turned smug. Erica Jasmine’s desk. Probably afraid of another run-in with the Red Team, so she took the day off. Happened all the time. Dr. Captious apparently thought she’d ditched because of the test.
“Family crisis,” Mason said without looking up. He was doodling on his desk. Mason always doodled in class.
Captious’s face showed a hint of color as he turned toward Mason. “And you know this how, Mr. Draudimon?”