28. Hotaru
It’s been a week since I ordered Arlo to come for me, and he did. We haven’t had a repeat performance. I shouldn’t be thinking about how badly I want one, especially while sitting in this class surrounded by dudes.
Our professor drones on about biology after we’ve already taken our final exam. The only biology I’m interested in sits to my left, reading a book about business law.
Snooze.
I’m left to my own devices, nonchalantly staring at the slope of his nose and the cut of his jaw, the veins in his hands and the tightened skin over his knuckles.
The static of the intercom interrupts the class before the words follow. “Mr. Divorskak, I need Arlo Judge and Hotaru Kido to the headmaster’s office, please.”
Our professor gives his approval, while the rest of the class erupts into oohs and aahs. Every pair of curious eyes finds us.
Arlo closes his book and stuffs it into his book bag, without acknowledging the horde. I, on the other hand, smirk at them. Let them wonder what’s going on. It makes no difference.
We grab our bags and exit our row at the top of the theater. The professor tries, in vain, to regain control. Slowly, it settles.
Phillip glares as we head for the classroom door. “I bet they got caught fucking in the weight room or something. They’re always in there together.”
I stop on his row, turn, and face him. The sneer melts off his face.
“You should come sometime. I could show you how the equipment works,” I offer as a double entendre.
The classroom erupts into chaos. Phillip turns several shades of red. Perhaps one day he’ll learn. I grin, turn, and follow Arlo out the door.
“A little unnecessary.” Arlo chuckles.
“He started it.” I adjust the strap of the bag on my shoulder.
“What are you, ten?” He slides a glance my way.
My laugh is deep. “I like riling people up. It usually doesn’t take much.”
“No, not when you look like you do.” Arlo shoves out the side door and heads for the main building.
“How do I look?”
He gestures toward me with a flailing hand.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, copying his movement.
“Tall and broad and hot as fuck.” My cheeks pull into a full smirk.
“You think I’m hot?”
Arlo groans. “You know I do.”
“Yes,” I purr. “I know you do.”
“Jesus.” He takes a half-step and pulls at the waist of his pants. “Will you stop? We’re headed to the headmaster’s office.”
“I mean, if I can get you hot and bothered on the way to Bridgeport’s office, I don’t think there’s anything I can’t do.” I lick my lips the way I know he likes.
“Hota.” Arlo jerks his gaze toward the front. I watch his Adam’s apple bob.
It’s nice to be able to mess with him again. I’ve missed this. I think he has too. “Fine. I won’t tell you how good your ass looks when you squat or how I imagine sucking your—” I run into his back and bounce hard. “Shit. Sorry.” I scramble back a step.
Then I follow his gaze to the marked car sitting in the parking lot in front of the main building.
“Look at me.”
I push enough authority into my voice that he complies without question. I smile at him. “We knew this would come. We know what to do. Right?”
A twinkle returns to his eyes. “What is it you’re sucking on?”
The what in question lengthens in my pants and I groan. Arlo grins, turns toward the door, and carries on as though nothing happened. Now I’m the one adjusting my pants as we head for the main office.
When Arlo pulls open the door, two people in cheap uniforms sit in the waiting area. My best friend, my best everything, nods to them and then turns toward Miss Booth.
I cut him off before he has a chance to speak. “We’re here to see the headmaster.”
“Yes.” She nods too fast and fans a hand toward his office. “He’ll see you now.”
“But, we’d rather see you.” I wink at her.
She shakes her head and doesn’t even give me her usual flirty smile. Her gaze flicks toward the officers behind us. “Go, Mr. Kido.”
I bow my head. “Yes, Miss Booth.”
We head for the door. The detectives’ eyes are on us. It’s why I made a show of flirting with Miss Booth, not that I wouldn’t anyway. I just want them to see us unbothered by the summons.
After all, we have nothing to hide.
It’s already hidden.
“Boys.” Bridgeport waves us in and motions to the seats opposite his desk. “Please, close the door behind you.”
I do, and then Arlo and I make our way to the chairs and sit. It’s odd that we’d both be in here at the same time since Arlo’s piece of shit is missing. I try not to let the anomaly trouble me.
“What’s going on?” I prompt.
The older man scoots his chair forward. As if this place can’t spring for a rolling chair. He leans his elbows almost comically far onto his desktop and crouches his head. It’s like he’s conspiring to commit treason or something.
“Arlo,” he says in a voice so close to a whisper, I find myself straining for every word. “Detectives for the local station are here to speak to you about your uncle.”
“Uh, why am I here?” I interject. Not scared to rock the boat.
His barely weathered gaze shifts to me. “I was hoping you’d act as a sort of interpreter for Arlo.”
“But I can speak.” Arlo offers what the headmaster already knows.
“Yes, but you don’t like to, and no one else at this school knows you can. Besides Hota and me.”
My gaze swings to Arlo’s and he meets my quizzical gaze for a second before shining it back to the man on the other side of the desk.
“Are we all not on the same page?” Bridgeport asks. I wonder what he knows, and why he’s trying to protect Arlo now when it’s damn near too late.
“I don’t know that we are,” Arlo admits.
The headmaster takes a breath that moves the walls around us. “Your uncle is missing.”
“Okay?” Arlo’s brows furrow.
“The detectives looked into it and he has a record. A big one that involves…” Headmaster Bridgeport grimaces and the lines are unusually deep. “Assaults of a specific nature.”
My friend is good. His furrow grows and a what-do-you-mean quality leaks into his gaze.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s for the detectives to speak to you about. Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but it seems your uncle is a horrid person. If he’s gone missing, I suspect it’s a benefit to humanity and your future, Mr. Judge.”
“He’s…that bad?” Arlo shakes his head, as though he doesn’t know exactly how grim his uncle is. Or was.
The man’s hands come up. “I’ve said too much already.”
“I’ll speak to the detectives.” He nods. “I want to help any way I can.”
“Very well.” The headmaster looks at me. “Mr. Kido, the detectives have a couple of questions for you as well. If you would, wait in the lobby.”
“Aren’t minors not supposed to be questioned without parental consent or an attorney?” I push.
“Your father gave consent for you to be questioned.”
Of course, he did. Probably hopes I’ll end up in jail.
“As for Mr. Judge?—”
“I have no parents,” Arlo offers. He bobs his head. “I’ll speak to them without an attorney. Like I said, I want to help.”
“Okay then. They’ll talk to you here. Mr. Kido, come with me.” Bridgeport stands and heads for the door.
I have to force myself not to grab Arlo’s shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze. I give him a wink instead. I hope it has the intended effect.