doubt he even heard me.
âYou reckon I donât get whatâs going on here?â he spat, looking slightly crazy now. âAll this stupid freaking donât-tell-Peter crap?â
Luke sighed. âPeter ââ
âNo, you shut up and listen!â said Peter, shaking him. âThis is my fight too, and Iâm bloody sick of â!â
âENOUGH!â I shouted, grabbing each of them before things could get any more out of hand.
Peter let go of Lukeâs shirt, shoving him back against the wall.
âYou think this is helping?â I hissed, lowering my voice so I wouldnât be overheard by the kids who were stopping to watch us. âThree people against this whole town, and you want to start fighting each other ?â
No response from either of them. Not that Luke had anything to answer for, but right now taking sides was only going to wind Peter up even more.
It wasnât the first time heâd blown up like this. Weâd all lost it at some point. Hardly surprising, given everything we were going through.
But there was something different in Peterâs anger. Something out of control. And it seemed to be taking less and less to set him off.
I let go of them both.
Peter blinked, like even he was surprised at the force of his outburst. âSorry,â he said, finally. But he was looking at me, not Luke.
âI need something out of my locker,â I said, taking off towards the English block.
The others followed. Peter sped up to walk next to me, and I noticed a smudge of brown on his collar. I looked down at my hand. Some of the concealer had smeared off on his shirt when Iâd grabbed him.
âWe should track Jeremy down,â I said. âSee if ââ
âShh!â said Peter, putting his arm out to stop me. Heâd stepped halfway round the corner, then darted back.
âWhat?â
But then I heard them. Hushed voices in the next corridor. Voices I recognised.
âWhatâs the time?â asked Cathryn, sounding anxious.
âTwenty-one past,â said Tank.
âCheck it again.â
âWe just did,â said Mike. âItâs empty.â
âCheck it again,â said Cathryn. âThey said it was important.â
âYou think I donât know that?â said Mike.
âBoth of you, shut up,â Tank hissed. âSomeoneâs going to hear us.â
Mike sighed. He waited another few seconds.
âAll right,â he said. âGo on. Check it.â
There was a clank of metal. I risked a look around the corner and saw the three of them crowded in front of an open locker about halfway down the hall.
âThere!â said Tank.
Mikeâs hand shot into the locker and pulled out a yellowing envelope, sealed with black wax that matched his fingernails.
I flinched as someone gripped my shoulder. Peter, leaning past me to see down the corridor.
âThatâs the locker!â he whispered as Mike ripped the envelope open. âThe one we caught Cat going through.â
âGet back,â I said. âTheyâll see you.â
âYep,â said Peter. âReckon you might be right.â
And then he was taking off down the corridor toward them.
Cathryn saw him coming and clutched Mikeâs shirt sleeve, colour draining from her face.
Great, I thought, following Peter around the corner. And you say Iâm the reckless one.
Mike looked up from the letter in his hand. Without missing a beat, he slipped it back into its envelope, stuck it in his pocket and said, âHey, Pete. Whatâs up?â
âWhatâve you got there?â Peter asked, gesturing at Mikeâs pocket.
Mikeâs head turned towards Luke and me. âItâs personal,â he said.
âYeah,â said Peter, âI bet it is.â
He lunged forward, knocking Mike back into the open locker and making a grab for the envelope.
âHey â Weir â câmon
Learning to Kill: Stories