that it was empty, the object of some conjurerâs trick. He felt along the shelves until a panel at the back gave way to his touch, admitting him to the chemistry lab.
âYou, too? Colin complained.
Morgan peered into the dim classroom. Colin was gripping one of the tables as if preparing for mortal combat. Across from him stood Alex Pearl, Nathanâs younger brother and the bane of Morganâs existence. How many snags could snag up in five short minutes?
âAs youâre here, Colin said to Morgan, you can remind this item where it belongs.
Alex, who belonged anywhere but the chemistry lab, turned to Morgan, wearing that smirk that always drove himâ one snag at a time . Morgan crossed his free arm over the sling. It hurt.
âWhat brings you here? he demanded.
âYour resurrected body, Alex quipped.
One snagâthreeâhowever manyâconcentrate. The day before the Spaulding Smashup, Morgan, Nathan, and Laurie had discovered that Alex was experimenting with gunpowder. Even for the most-caned boy in the Third, this struck them as too much. The three of them had hauled Alex upstairs to a boxroom and set to work. After a string of lies, Alex had admitted stealing and dismantling a box of old shells and repackaging the powder in pellets. Theyâd had to draw blood before Alex revealed where heâd hidden them. Nathan had gone to dispose of the pellets while Morgan and Laurie had completed the course of moral suasion on his younger brother, at the end of which Alex had promised to reform. His presence in the chemistry lab made it clear that his vow had been empty. Morgan boxed him against the table:
âYou belong in Prep.
âSo do you, Alex retorted.
He looked Morgan directly in the eye as heâd done when they were dealing with him over the gunpowder. Laurie had held him down, and Morgan had applied a persuasion theyâd once known. Alex had never dropped his gaze but had watched Morgan while he did it, letting Morgan see that he felt it, that he saw Morgan seeing him, that he knew Morgan knew himself how it felt, that he knew exactly what Morgan was doing, even as it hurt him, even as it brought himâsteel-hearted Alexâto tears.
âBugger off, Pearl, on the double! Colin barked.
Alex made to leave, but Morgan stepped across his path:
âNot so fast. Empty your pockets.
Alex sighed theatrically:
âYour titanic self-importance notwithstanding, Wilberforceâ
âGot a vocabulary now? Do as youâre told.
Alex twisted away, but not before Colin could seize him from behind. Morgan rifled his pockets, confiscated a packet of cigarettes, but found nothing explosive.
âPrep, Morgan commanded. And not another word if you want these back.
He held up the cigarettes. Alex eyed them longingly, but Colin booted the boy into the corridor. One snag, at least, could go to the back of the queue.
âI thought you were sorting that little beast out, Colin said.
Morgan rubbed his shoulder through the bandages, feeling cold again and hamstrung. Even Colin could see that Morgan was the only thing standing between Alex and chaos. Alex ran circles around his fagmaster, Kilby, their slow-witted, concrete-minded Prefect of Hall. Alex didnât even heed Nathan or Laurie anymore. He only heeded Morgan, and only when Morgan made him. How would he make him with one working arm? Just now, Alex had let him winâ
Back of the queue. Everything would be handled in turn, and next in turn was people: what they were saying about him and why they were saying it.
âHas Spaulding said anything about the match? Morgan asked.
Colin closed the drawer where he had been rummaging and slipped something into his pocket.
âNot to me. Should he have?
âHow do I know?
âJust what happened during that tackle? Colin asked.
âI knocked him down. Thatâs all I remember. Brick wall of a brute thumped my lights out.
Morgan was a sportsman.
âYou, too? Colin complained.
Morgan peered into the dim classroom. Colin was gripping one of the tables as if preparing for mortal combat. Across from him stood Alex Pearl, Nathanâs younger brother and the bane of Morganâs existence. How many snags could snag up in five short minutes?
âAs youâre here, Colin said to Morgan, you can remind this item where it belongs.
Alex, who belonged anywhere but the chemistry lab, turned to Morgan, wearing that smirk that always drove himâ one snag at a time . Morgan crossed his free arm over the sling. It hurt.
âWhat brings you here? he demanded.
âYour resurrected body, Alex quipped.
One snagâthreeâhowever manyâconcentrate. The day before the Spaulding Smashup, Morgan, Nathan, and Laurie had discovered that Alex was experimenting with gunpowder. Even for the most-caned boy in the Third, this struck them as too much. The three of them had hauled Alex upstairs to a boxroom and set to work. After a string of lies, Alex had admitted stealing and dismantling a box of old shells and repackaging the powder in pellets. Theyâd had to draw blood before Alex revealed where heâd hidden them. Nathan had gone to dispose of the pellets while Morgan and Laurie had completed the course of moral suasion on his younger brother, at the end of which Alex had promised to reform. His presence in the chemistry lab made it clear that his vow had been empty. Morgan boxed him against the table:
âYou belong in Prep.
âSo do you, Alex retorted.
He looked Morgan directly in the eye as heâd done when they were dealing with him over the gunpowder. Laurie had held him down, and Morgan had applied a persuasion theyâd once known. Alex had never dropped his gaze but had watched Morgan while he did it, letting Morgan see that he felt it, that he saw Morgan seeing him, that he knew Morgan knew himself how it felt, that he knew exactly what Morgan was doing, even as it hurt him, even as it brought himâsteel-hearted Alexâto tears.
âBugger off, Pearl, on the double! Colin barked.
Alex made to leave, but Morgan stepped across his path:
âNot so fast. Empty your pockets.
Alex sighed theatrically:
âYour titanic self-importance notwithstanding, Wilberforceâ
âGot a vocabulary now? Do as youâre told.
Alex twisted away, but not before Colin could seize him from behind. Morgan rifled his pockets, confiscated a packet of cigarettes, but found nothing explosive.
âPrep, Morgan commanded. And not another word if you want these back.
He held up the cigarettes. Alex eyed them longingly, but Colin booted the boy into the corridor. One snag, at least, could go to the back of the queue.
âI thought you were sorting that little beast out, Colin said.
Morgan rubbed his shoulder through the bandages, feeling cold again and hamstrung. Even Colin could see that Morgan was the only thing standing between Alex and chaos. Alex ran circles around his fagmaster, Kilby, their slow-witted, concrete-minded Prefect of Hall. Alex didnât even heed Nathan or Laurie anymore. He only heeded Morgan, and only when Morgan made him. How would he make him with one working arm? Just now, Alex had let him winâ
Back of the queue. Everything would be handled in turn, and next in turn was people: what they were saying about him and why they were saying it.
âHas Spaulding said anything about the match? Morgan asked.
Colin closed the drawer where he had been rummaging and slipped something into his pocket.
âNot to me. Should he have?
âHow do I know?
âJust what happened during that tackle? Colin asked.
âI knocked him down. Thatâs all I remember. Brick wall of a brute thumped my lights out.
Morgan was a sportsman.
Similar Books
The Einstein Code
Tom West
Doomsday Brethren, Book 04: Entice Me at Twilight
Shayla Black
A Heart Most Worthy
Siri Mitchell
Jackal's Dance
Beverley Harper
Beyond the Sea
Keira Andrews
Murder in the Bastille
Cara Black
Breathe for Me
Rhonda Helms
Rock Me Gently
HK Carlton
