Sleight by Jennifer Sommersby Read Free Book Online Page A

smile punching a dimple in his cheek.
    “I feel indoctrinated. Aunt Marlene wil be thriled to hear that I had my first authentic high school social experience.” He chuckled.
    “Are the assemblies always this loud?”
    “Pretty much. You should’ve been here when the footbal team won the state championship a few years ago. They had the police on standby.”
    “I can only imagine.” When we were among the last leaving the gym, I suddenly felt awkward, somehow disappointed, that the day was coming to a rapid conclusion, a stark contrast to how I’d expected to feel at the end of my first day.
    I stopped in front of locker 451 and fumbled through my jacket pocket for the combination, but before I could put my hand on the dial, Henry puled the metal latch and the door opened.
    Shocked, I looked up at him.
    “How did you do that?” His eyes flashed a hint of embarrassment, as if he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
    “Uh, it was my locker last year,” he said.
    “Oh… Wait—you mean, they don’t change the combinations?” His answer, coupled with his knowledge of the three-digit combination, sort of weirded me out. It didn’t seem like a prudent security practice to not change locker combinations from year to year.
    “Some lockers are overlooked,” Henry said, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’m not a snoop.”
    “It’s cool. Just seems odd, I guess.” I stuffed the combination into the front pocket of my backpack. “Wel, thanks so much for the help today,” I said, feeling self-conscious. “I realy appreciate you giving up your day to be my tour guide, especialy since you got strong-armed into it.”
    He laughed at my comment. “The pleasure was al mine.
    Besides, it was sort of fun to sit with the circus freak with the fire-red hair who’s already fielding proposals of wedded bliss.” I swatted his arm with my free hand.
    “I guess I’l see you at dinner in just a few short hours, then?” he said.
    “Come at your peril.”
    “As long as lion isn’t on the menu, I think I’l survive it,” he said as he walked backward down the hal, away from me and toward whomever was going to get his attention next. “Goodbye, Gemma Flannery.”
    I waved a smal goodbye and watched him walk away. After he turned the corner and disappeared from sight, I stared after him for a few seconds, the moment interrupted when I made eye contact with the girl in the plaid pants and mohair coat from photo class who stood alone in front of her own opened locker across and just down the hal.
    Summer Day smiled and gave me a satisfactory thumb’s up.
    :7:
    From this arises the question whether it is better to be loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved. It might perhaps be answered that we should wish to be both: but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved.
    —Niccolò Machiaveli, The Prince
    I came in the back way to the kitchen, out of sight of the main dining area. It was a flurry of activity, Jean-Pierre barking orders to his staff in English and French. The pastry chef was applying the finishing touches to a tray of delectable desserts; the sous-chef was chopping like a madman at a huge cutting board overloaded with vegetables and fruits of every imaginable variety. And the smel…
    words cannot describe the sumptuous aroma of Jean-Pierre’s finest creations. Fabulous would be an insult.
    Ted had given me a vague warning to behave myself, so I opted to stay hidden. As far as I knew, Jean-Pierre didn’t care that I was on his turf. I offered to help ready the trays but could see there were enough people already messing with food, they didn’t need my pathetic help. Instead, I plopped onto a stool and sat flipping a quarter back and forth across my knuckles, between my fingers, occasionaly nibbling from the plate of fresh fruit one of the kitchen assistants slid my way.
    Junie was wigging out