Forbidden (3 page)

“Check your schedule, Alec.” Erica’s voice jolted him back to the present as they entered the brightly lit gymnasium. The space was packed with students lining up at tables for their textbooks according to grade and subject. The bleachers were collapsed against the side walls beneath a patchwork of red, white, and blue banners representing sports victories that went back over thirty years. It was warm and stuffy inside, the rafters echoing with conversation and laughter.

“If you’re in an honors class, be sure to mention that to the teachers, because the books are different,” Claire explained as they approached the juniors’ English table.

Say something
, Alec mentally instructed himself. He’d barely strung more than three words together since he’d met these people. They must think him a half-wit. He studied his class schedule. “I think most of my classes are honors.”

“Are you serious?” Brian said. “I barely placed into honors physics.”

“Sounds like you and Claire will be in a lot of the same classes.” Erica put her arm around Claire, smiling like an affectionate parent. “Claire’s the class brain. We’re so very proud of her.”

“I am
not
a brain,” Claire insisted, rolling her eyes modestly.

Claire showed him her schedule, her hand nearly touching his as she stood beside him. It turned out they were indeed in several classes together. Her proximity—and the knowledge that he’d be seeing her throughout the school day—sent his heart racing again.
Focus
, Alec reprimanded himself.
Stop acting like an idiot
. They all got their English books and moved on to the history table. “So,” Alec asked in a deliberately casual tone, even though he was well aware of the answer, “how does this rotating schedule work again?”

Claire glanced at him with raised eyebrows, as if surprised to find him capable of coherent speech. “There are seven tracks, A through G—six classes per day except Fridays, when we get out at one thirty instead of having a lunch break.”

“It sounds confusing, but I swear it’s not—every morning they post which track you begin with,” Erica chimed in. “It’s a cool system because it means you never have a class at the same time every day. So you won’t always have a post-lunch food coma during French, or be half-asleep in early-morning pre-calc.”

Alec pulled out his cell phone and started typing, as if this information was new to him.

“Careful with that come Monday, dude,” Brian cautioned. “Cell phones are banned on campus during school hours.”

Before he could reply, Alec suddenly found himself at the front of the line. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he glanced at the history teacher’s name on his schedule. “Mr … Patterson?”

A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late thirties turned in Alec’s direction. Despite his handsome features, the man projected irritation and condescension. Without looking up from his list, he barked, “Name?”

“Alec MacKenzie.”

Checking his name off with a pencil, the teacher motioned toward one of the stacks of thick hardcover texts on the table. “Take a book. Only one. Move along.”

“As if we’d
want
more than one,” Claire whispered behind him.

Alec couldn’t help but smile.

After the others got their history books and they moved off together, Brian muttered, “God, what an ass. I heard Patterson actually locks the door to his classroom the minute the bell rings.”

“
I’ve
heard he gives lots of pop quizzes,” Erica added. “He might make even
your
life a living hell, Claire.”

“Fantastic.” Claire frowned.

Suddenly, two arms clapped around Erica’s and Brian’s shoulders. “Hey, you two. How’s it going?”

At the sight of the tall, lanky, good-looking guy standing behind Erica and Brian, Claire’s eyes lit up. Alec turned to examine the object of her interest. He had golden-brown eyes and dark, wavy hair, and seemed like the easygoing type who claimed not to care about primping but always looked great anyway.

Erica gave the newcomer a big hug. “God, Neil, I think you grew another six inches over the summer!”

“Three, actually. Did you hear? Mr. Lang wants us to sing the
Messiah
this Christmas.”

Brian and Erica gasped. They immediately launched into shoptalk about choir with the new guy and ignored Alec and Claire completely. Alec noticed Claire’s gaze lingering on Neil’s face. For the first time since he’d met her she seemed nervous, as if she was secretly, desperately wishing that Neil would look in her direction.

Alec turned to Claire, searching for something appropriate to say, seized by a need to capture her attention. “I take it those three are all in choir together?”

“Not choir—that’s a different class. They’re in Concert Singers, the elite choral group. It’s Brian’s pride and joy—and his only other honors class.”

“An honors class that you’re
not
in?”

To Alec’s dismay, Claire visibly winced, as if the question stung a little.

“Sorry,” he added quickly. “That was an attempt at humor that clearly failed.”

“It’s okay—I shouldn’t be so sensitive. Really. It’s just that I’d give anything to be able to sing well enough to get into Concert Singers.”

Right
. Alec frowned, irritation prickling through him. Because it would give her a chance to spend time with Neil—who was now cluelessly saying good-bye to his friends, without a word for her.
What is this guy—blind or stupid? Or both?

As soon as the thoughts entered his mind, Alec scolded himself for being uncharitable. He didn’t know a thing about Neil, or about Claire for that matter, and he had no business making judgments about either of them. “I take it you like music, then?” he asked Claire.

“I
love
music. But sadly, I inherited tone deafness from my mother. I tried piano lessons when I was nine but wasn’t very good at that, either.”

The foursome left the gym a while later—sans Neil—their backpacks bursting with books. As they crossed the paved drop-off circle and headed for the south stairwell, they passed under a section of construction scaffolding that crawled up the face of a nearby building. A sign in black and red lettering warned,
CAUTION: WORKERS ABOVE
.

“What’s going on up there?” Erica asked.

“I heard they’re remodeling the theater lobby and putting in new windows or something,” Claire answered.

“They’d better be done soon,” Erica muttered as they marched up the stairs, “’cause I plan to be the first junior to get the lead in the school musical.”

“Which one are we doing this year?” asked Brian.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“If they do
Twelve Angry Men: The Musical
, you’re screwed.” Brian grinned.

Erica swatted him on the shoulder. “Claire, you should really grow some balls this year and try out.”

“No way.” A blush bloomed in Claire’s cheeks. “How about you, Alec? Do you sing?”

Alec paused. The fact that Claire had a crush on a guy who could sing was not lost on him. With a small smile, he said, “A bit. But not in public.”

They all exited the stairwell onto an open-air upper terrace, where a short stretch of beige lockers was tucked beneath an overhang beside the back entrance to the library.

“Here’s my locker,” Brian said, moving up to test his combination. Erica’s locker was in that grouping as well.

Claire checked the sheet with her assignment. “Anybody know where locker 302 is?”

“On the other side of the library. Mine’s 308. I’ll show you,” Alec responded. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. Would it seem odd that he knew these things?

As if on cue, Claire glanced at him in surprise. “You’re the locker tour guide now? I thought you were the new guy.”

Alec hesitated, then said honestly, “I … stopped by to look the place over the other day. I always like to be prepared.” He turned and started walking.

“And do you always like to think for about twenty minutes before you speak?” Claire asked as she followed him.

“Sometimes longer. I guess I don’t think as fast as you do.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Mr. All-My-Classes-Are-Honors,” Claire said with a smile.

The teasing warmth in her eyes made his stomach do a somersault. They reached the front of the library, where two long rows of freestanding lockers faced each other in a covered, open-air pseudo-corridor. Several other students were shoving in their new books. Claire found her locker and opened it while Alec moved to his.

“What’s that?” Alec asked, pointing to a contraption that Claire had pulled from her backpack.

“A LockerMate.” Claire knelt on the concrete and began to unfold and assemble the unit, hooking the corners of what looked like two painted metal shelves onto the four legs. “It’s a little rusty and rickety, but the shelves make the locker a lot more organized.”

“Would you like a hand?”

“Thanks, I’m okay. I’ve had this since sixth grade.”

He watched Claire carefully lift her assembled LockerMate into her locker. Loosening the wing nuts in the center of both shelves, she pushed against the unit’s legs, as if trying to widen it to fill the space—but it wouldn’t budge. She pushed again. No luck. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to him with lowered eyes and mumbled quietly, “Help?”

Alec grinned and moved to her side. “What do I do?”

“The shelves have to expand, but they’re stuck. You’ll have to shove hard.”

“Will do.” Alec slipped his hands inside Claire’s locker and gave the LockerMate an easy sideways thrust in both directions.

BAM!
The sound echoed dramatically in the passageway. He heard Claire gasp. Heads spun in their direction. Alec stared down in embarrassment. His arms were wedged against both sides of Claire’s locker, which were now horribly bowed, and the door was bent at a funny angle.

“Shite.” Alec shrank back, mortified.

“What the hell?” Claire exclaimed in astonishment. “Did you just break my locker?” She tried unsuccessfully to shut the crooked door. “Well,
that’s
never gonna close again.”

Alec felt his face turning red. How could he have made such a boneheaded mistake? “Sorry. You said to shove hard.” Gesturing toward his own locker, he added quickly, “Would you like to take mine?”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Please, I insist. I’ll take yours. It’s the least I can do.”

“No, no, really.” Claire looked down at the heavy bag of books at her feet and said reluctantly, “If you don’t mind, I’ll just stash my books in your locker for now—until they fix mine.”

“Not a problem. I was thinking of bringing my books home today anyway. Here, let me give you my combination.” Alec handed her his locker assignment sheet.

“Don’t you need the combination to get back in?”

“I’ve already got it memorized. Have a good weekend. See you Monday.” With a brief nod, Alec hefted up his backpack and dashed off down the corridor, his cheeks still burning.

three

“I
can’t believe MacMuscles actually
broke
my locker,” Claire said as she crossed the junior parking lot with Brian and Erica. “What a freak.”

“He must be Superman!” Brian exclaimed.

Claire shook her head with a sigh. “More like Clark Kent. Superman’s the suave one.”