Free Live and Let Shop by Michael P. Spradlin

her desk, going over notes. Did she ever not study?
    I went into the other room, dried my hair, dressed, and unpacked my laptop.
    “How did it go?” Pilar asked as I carried the laptop back into the study room and sat down at my desk.
    “How’d what go?”
    “Your ‘walk.’” Air quotes again. I was definitely going to kill her.
    “Not so well. Got lost in the woods.”
    “How’d you get back?”
    “Mr. Kim seemed to have no trouble finding me.”
    “Yeah, he’s like that. Wow. The woods. Pretty brave.”
    I couldn’t tell if she was teasing me or what. I decided not to press it and started opening the drawers of my desk. Inside the top drawer was a manila envelope with a sticker on it that said “Rachel Buchanan: Class Schedule.” I opened it and looked at the schedule. Classes started at 8:30 and lasted fifty minutes. First period, Languages. Boring. Second period, Microelectronics. What? Third period, Computer Lab. Okay, cool. Fourth Period, Physical Conditioning? What! Gym! In addition to Tae Kwon Do? Get real. Definitely going to drop that one. Although I could already imagine how that conversation would play out.
    Me: “Mr. Kim, I’m afraid I’m going to have to get a different class fourth period, as apparently you’ve forgotten that I don’t do gym. Perhaps Advanced Napping would be a better option for me.”
    Then Mr. Kim would laugh, remind me about my agile mind, and have me enrolled in the decathlon at the next Olympics before I could blink.
    Lunch was next on the schedule. I was very good atlunch. Followed by Cultures. What kind of class was that? What kind of Cultures? Then Introduction to Code Theory. Ugh. Whatever that was, it sounded boring. Seventh period was Intro to Criminal Justice. Criminal Justice? Hello? What kind of school teaches Criminal Justice to teenagers? Evading Criminal Justice, maybe.
    That took us all the way to 3:30. Then there was a phrase on the schedule that sent a shiver through my body. Kitchen Duty 4–5:30 M-W-F. Kitchen Duty!
    “Yep,” said Pilar, “everybody has to do it. I’m on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”
    Her voice startled me, because I hadn’t realized I’d said anything out loud.
    “What is Kitchen Duty, exactly?” I asked.
    “Like, stuff you do in a kitchen. Serving food. Washing dishes. Fixing stuff. Whatever Mrs. Clausen asks you to do. She runs the kitchen.”
    Great. Mrs. Clausen. Sounds like a pickle. I’m sure we’d be pals.
    “We have the same schedule,” Pilar said. “Mr. Kim told me yesterday. Hey, are you any good with computers? Because computer lab is really killing me. I justdon’t seem to have the aptitude for it.”
    “Yeah. Computers are okay. But I don’t get this. What kind of class is Cultures? Or Criminal Justice?”
    “Oh, man. Criminal Justice is like the coolest class ever. Mr. Quinn teaches it. He used to go to school here too. He’s in his mid-twenties and works freelance for the FBI. Did I mention that he is gorgeous? Also, he’s the greatest teacher. He tells all these amazing stories about criminals and investigations and crime scenes and forensics. It’s awesome.”
    “Sounds interesting.” Not.
    “Oh, it is. It’s my favorite class.”
    Great, I thought to myself. I was rooming with a Criminal Justice groupie.
    “The semester started a month ago, so you’ll have to catch up on some of the stuff we’ve covered. I can help you if you want.”
    “Thanks. Listen, I want to apologize for what I said yesterday. About why you’re here. That was rude of me to assume—anyway, I just…I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay,” she said. But she kind of blushed, like how she got here was a sensitive topic. “There are a lot of kids in here that are like you—I mean…not like you…in abad…I mean with court trouble…sorry.” She flushed.
    “It’s okay. That’s what I was told. I just shouldn’t have assumed it about you.” There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.
    “If you