“She has one,” Jocelyn says, but from the gasp that follows, I’m not sure she was meant to tell me.
“Oh?”
“She’s been seeing someone weekly for quite a while. It’s not public knowledge.”
“Right.” More lies and secrets. Just what we all need.“Well, I hope he isn’t very expensive, because I’m not sure he’s doing much good.”
Jocelyn just smiles at me, refusing to offer up any more information.
“Is there anything else you need me to do before I go and deliver these pies?” she asks, grabbing an oven glove and pulling it open.
“I think you’ve already done more than enough.”
She places three golden, bubbling pies on the counter and my stomach growls.
“There are vegetables in the fridge, you just need to boil them. You can handle that, right?”
“I can,” I assure her.
Those might be the first homemade pies my oven has ever seen, but contrary to popular belief, I can actually use it.
“Okay, so call me if you need anything. But seeing as you’ve locked your usual cleaner out, and that devilish boy of your sister has granted me access to your inner sanctum, I’ll pop back in a few days to ensure things are clean and tidy. Just… remember our old deal. I don’t touch rooms with drugs or johnnys.”
“You got it, J. No johnnys.” I wink at her and she groans.
“N-no, no. That’s not what—”
“It’s cool, J. There will be no baby Cirillos heading our way anytime soon.”
“Uh… good. That’s good. Enjoy the rest of your night. Be good,” she warns before heading off with her two steaming hot pies balanced expertly in her hands.
* * *
Our class is in silence when a quiet, hesitant knock comes.
Every single head in the room looks up from the dull-as-shit exam questions we’re working on and not a second later, a tiny year seven pokes his head into the room.
I want to say that he looks on the verge of shitting his pants at being forced to step into a sixth form classroom, but I’m pretty sure he already has.
“Hello, can I help you, young man?” Mr. Wilson says softly, which still makes the kid trip over his own feet as he moves into the room.
The guy sitting beside me snorts a laugh, which sends an inferno racing through me.
Shoving my chair back an inch, I steal his attention and his eyes find my deadly ones.
No words are spoken between us. They don’t need to be. He can read the threat that’s written all over my face clear as day.
He swallows nervously before returning his attention back to the exam paper in front of him instead of the little boy trembling in front of Mr. Wilson.
The boy doesn’t say anything, he just nervously holds out the note in his hand.
Mr. Wilson looks up and immediately finds me watching.
He nods his head in my direction and my stomach twists as I realise that whatever is on that note is for me.
The boy turns to me. I thought he looked terrified before, but the look of pure fear on his face now is actually unnerving.
Clearly, he knows who I am. To be fair, there aren’t many walking around these halls who don’t. But I’m in class; what does he really think I’m going to do?