User blog:Professorpineapple/The Price

She’d seen it happen from across the hall. Hopkins skulking around, baseball cap tugged down over his head, like she wouldn’t recognize him. He yanked down on the fire alarm, and walked away cool and slow, hands in his pockets. The screaming of the bell sent kids running out of classrooms, yelling. “Who pulled that alarm!?”  “Johnny! A fire!” Seth was patrolling that side of the downstairs corridors, but he hadn’t seen it. Marnie saw him trying to corrale a gaggle of greaser girls, who ducked out of his grasp and took off in the opposite direction. She grumbled to herself, loosening her striped red tie. The main floor of the school was crowded with bodies, most of them shorter and smaller than she was, but she ran. She knew they’d move. The PA system whined to life, and Miss Danvers’ voice boomed in above them. Whatever she said was drowned out by the trilling of the alarm bell. In all the noise and all the chaos, Jimmy didn’t see Marnie until she was on him. The prefect crashed down on the smaller boy like a wave, knocking him to the ground, but the momentum was too much. Marnie slipped, her shoes giving a sharp whine as she skid on the tiles. For a moment Jimmy’s face flashed before hers, beady eyes going wide. He writhed in her grasp. Someone shrieked, and Marnie felt the boy slip away before she could stop him. She scrambled to her feet, jerked her head to flip a lock of white-blonde hair out of her face. Clenched in her fist, she realized, was Jimmy’s sweater vest. The little runt was already halfway down the hall, tugging down his shirt. The alarm was cut, and a silence fell over the hallway. The students who hadn’t escaped the building all stood around, backed against the lockers, gaping at the prefect, watching the scene. She could feel that her hair had pulled loose from her bun, and blushed at the thought of how stupid she must have looked, biffing it in the middle of the hall like that. At least the peanut gallery knew better than to laugh at her. With a squeal of cheap sneaker soles, Jimmy stopped. From the end of the corridor he looked back at her, tipped up the brim of his hat. The little bastard was smirking. Marnie rolled back her shoulders, twisted her neck until she heard it crack. She lunged, but Jimmy was already running. The PA crackled to life and Miss Danvers hissed, “Back to class, you little monsters!” Jimmy wheeled around, changed direction mid-step, and rocketed down between the rows of lockers. Marnie was on his tail, footsteps pounding on tile. She grasped at him. Her fingers grazed his short copper hair, and she thought she heard him laugh. Jimmy had his head start, but Marnie had longer legs. She saw him glance back at her, and then he dodged, changed directions again, and took off across the foyer. Seth pushed through the front doors, gripping Dez Russo by the arm, and Jimmy had to jump back to avoid crashing into them. He disappeared down the opposite hallway. The greaser girl threw a fist in the air, yelled, “Run, boy, run!” Seth dragged her along, right into Marnie’s path. She was vaguely aware of bumping shoulders with him, the crash of muscle on muscle. He might have yelled something, maybe at her, probably at Dez, Marnie wasn’t paying attention. She kept running, lungs burning. She’d be damned if she let that little punk get away from her. When she turned the corner she caught it, the rustle of garbage from the trashcan at the end of the hall, by the boys’ room. And she heard the groan, under her gasping breath and the anger ringing in her ears. It sounded an awful lot like someone saying, “Oh, yuck.” Marnie trotted to the end of the hall, and let herself stop. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and she tried to look nonchalant about wiping it on her sleeve. She made a show of looking to the left, then looking to the right, before she leaned out over the trashcan. Mr. Luntz hadn’t made his after-lunch rounds yet. The garbage can was too full to hide Jimmy completely, his big head poking out over the rim of it. His face was flush from running, his chest heaving. There was barely enough room for him to just perch there, a big dopey bird in a garbage nest. A browning banana was smushed against his shirt, its peel, inexplicably, on Jimmy’s shoulder. His jeans were stained down one leg with what Marnie hoped was yogurt. They locked eyes. Whatever he was sitting in, it was stinking to high hell. Marnie’s face scrunched up in disgust. Jimmy pulled the same expression, and Marnie didn’t know if he was making fun of her, or if it was just a reflex. Monkey see, monkey do. Catching troublemakers was her job. More than that, it was her favorite hobby. A passion of hers. But whatever was making Jimmy stink so bad, Marnie wanted no part of it. “Hopkins,” she said finally. “That is disgusting.” Jimmy lowered his head. He didn’t need detention, Marnie decided. This was punishment enough.