Being Bad

Chapter 34: A Question

He slowly turned around to Eli and whispered to him. "The guys need me for something."

He got up, taking his phone and his bag with him. He swings his backpack over his shoulder, turning to Mrs. McQuarters before he finally left the classroom.

"As a matter of fact, Mrs. MQ, I'm leaving. So you can continue you're snooze fest of a lesson." He salutes to the class before turning his heels and walking out the door. The class snickers at his rude comment to the teacher, and she takes a forced breath.

"Mission?" I mouthed to Eli, and he nodded his head.

"Sometimes a gang that he works with needs him at a certain point. They're all 20 years and older so they don't understand the concept of school. Plus, if he doesn't go, they might as well put up a 'Wanted' poster for him."

"It's that bad?"

"No. It's worse." He shrugs, and I couldn't help but feel scared for him. If a gang that he's committed to needs him so bad, he's probably missed a lot of school.

I turn back around, crossing my arms in deep thought.

Well, now I'm finally awake.

About 20 minutes into the lesson, a girl to my right throws a piece of paper on my desk, it was folded and crumpled a bit. I turn to her in question and she eyes for me to open it.

So I did.

Dear Lia,

It's Ian. Ian Rivers. You know, the awkward nerd that you crashed into in the hallway about a month ago.

I just wanted to let you know that you should meet me at your locker today before lunch, because I need to ask you a question. It's extremely important, but don't be intimidated or think that it's anything serious. Well, I mean it is to me, but...you know what? Never mind.

Anyway, I hope to see you there!

PS: The girl that handed you this note is a friend from the Math Team. She mentioned that she had class with you and I needed this note to be brought to you before lunch, so I thought this was the next best thing.

Okay, I'll stop talking, or writing.

See you there.

I folded the piece of notebook paper in stuck it in my backpack, in one of the small pockets.

A serious question? What kind of serious question? This kind of has me on edge, and these feelings are doubling after finding out Andrew's left abruptly.

I'm tired of being left in the dark. I need answers.

And I want them now.

***

As soon as the bell rings at the end of fourth period, I march down to my locker to meet him. Ian was standing there, casually with a pair of light khakis and a Tommy Hilfiger, navy blue T-shirt. His look is completed with his black, thick rimmed glasses and his low-top white converse, which seemed to be a bit dirty.

His hair was pushed up today, gelled slightly, and almost reflecting the light coming through the glass windows just down the halls. He looked nervous, really nervous. This thought was given away by the tapping he was doing with his fingers against the wall behind him.

"You needed to talk to me?" I held the piece of paper up that was full of many unanswered questions and the main focus that my mind seems to bring me back to.