“That doesn’t make any sense,” Bryce remarked.

Miss Connors shrugged and offered, “It’s this or you listen to stories of fish, frogs, and ponds.”

“Handcuffs.” Corrigan nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you in two days for a check up. I want to know how it’s going.”

And we stood up.

Handcuffs, chains, and arms swung between each of us in our tight enmeshed triad.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Life in handcuffs was not new to Corrigan and semi-new to Bryce. Surprisingly, they were alien to me in and out of the bedroom.

How to get out of handcuffs?

It was Corrigan’s forte and he only needed one stop along the way.

Hoodum’s.

The gang leader laughed uproariously when Corrigan called him out to our car in the parking lot. He actually stood there, laughed, and needed to pat his leg for composure.

It was maybe the first time that all three of us were quiet for our humiliation.

After we were delivered a third-sheet of public ridicule, Hoodum hunted around his warehouse and produced a key. Of course, afterwards Bryce remarked that Corrigan should’ve just ‘picked’ the lock. After getting arrested a few too many times, Corrigan knew his way around a pair of handcuffs.

At Bryce’s comment, Corrigan had blinked, startled, and then cursed his own stupidity.

From there, we went back to school with the handcuffs still on, but they were taped so Miss Connors wouldn’t figure out that we were cheating. All three of us tried to figure out which classes to go to and we had finally decided on Corrigan’s fifth period with Mr. Hankins. I had just settled back for a nap when Mena strolled in wearing a black halter-top and black leather miniskirt.

Every guy sucked in their breath. And most of the girls’ mouths fell open or they hissed.

Corrigan and Bryce both appreciated the imagery, but it was Mr. Hankins who

spoke up, “Miss Cruiw, you can report to the office. I’m fairly certain your dress is inappropriate. They might have a large tee shirt for you.”

Mena ignored him and sat at a table in the corner.

“Miss Cruiw,” Mr. Hankins tried again.

Bryce leaned forward and remarked, casually, “You’re not wanted, Mena.”

She snapped to attention and whirled around, “Was my brother a good lay, Sheldon? He was over at your house a little longer than he needed to be.”

The class gasped and I sighed. Bryce had started this, but Mena knew where to make him hurt...

“What does it take to get it through your head?” Bryce asked. “You’re not wanted.”

“What’d I ever do to you?” Mena demanded.

He leaned back, coolly in control, “You’re not right in the head. That’s what you did.”

“What? And Sheldon is? She’s more screwed up than me.”

“Mena,” Mandy spoke up.

She was ignored when Mena cried out, “I can’t believe you. You guys go at it like rabbits and you’re still defending her after she screwed my brother in her garage.”

That was enough. I asked, a sly grin on my face, “Did you wish it was you?”

The class held their breath.

Mena paled.

“Do you wish it had been you instead of your brother? Or do you wish it had been you that he touched?”

Mena couldn’t speak. We all saw her fight for words around the choking ball of fury in her throat.

I finished, “Watch what you say, Mena. Jealousy can be a bitch and make you do things you’d rather forget.”

Mr. Hankins spoke up then, calmly, “I think, Miss Cruiw, that you’re wanted in the principal’s office now.”

“But—”

“Just go,” Bryce bit out.

She stormed out, but she threw a last seething glare to our table before the door shut behind her.

I watched Bryce.

Bryce resumed his sleeping stance.

And Corrigan laughed, “Talk about making an entrance and exit.”

Mr. Hankins just shook his head as he turned back again to the chalkboard. I watched Bryce, uneasily, through the entire class period until he finally sighed and murmured, out of the corner of his mouth, “I’m fine. I’m not going to go off and do something, okay?”

I stopped watching him and noticed the doodles that adorned Corrigan’s notebook. I nudged him with my shoulder and asked, “What’s that about?”

“Bored.”

“Oh.”

And I was reminded why I usually skipped any and all classes. They’re just…boring.

When class was done, Chantal brushed up against Bryce as she walked along his empty side. I trailed behind, which caused Bryce’s arm to fall behind with Corrigan on my other side. I caught him glancing up and down the hallway and asked, “Looking for Logan?”

Corrigan cast a sharp, cautious, glance my way, but sighed as he saw genuine curiosity in my own eyes, “Yeah.”

We had stopped at Bryce’s locker and I leaned against his neighbor’s locker when I remarked to Corrigan, “You should have her come over today. I’m sure my mother will be gone house hunting with her boy.”

Bryce looked up at that and commented, “I’d rather hangout at Corrigan’s.”

I looked sharply at him and breathed in relief. I was still in his plans after school.

“Sweet. I’ll tell Logan,” Corrigan said quickly before anyone could change their mind.

I said flatly, “No Chantal.”

Bryce shrugged and remarked, “No movie star.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Corrigan piped in and wrenched me aside as Logan approached the group.

With the handcuffs, I got a good grope under her shirt as Corrigan greeted her like a long-lost lover that had been separated and held hostage by warring neighbors.

“Okay.” I tugged my hand back and commented, “No more of that until we’re not actually handcuffed together.”

Corrigan and Logan parted at my words.

Logan was flushed, speechless.

Corrigan just grinned and replied, “Deal.” He let go of Logan.

Bryce raised our hands as Miss Connors walked through the hallway. He remarked, “See, Miss Connors. Handcuffs.”

“That’s very nice, Bryce Scout,” Miss Connors commented, politely, as she continued down the hallway.