Free Locked (The Heaven's Gate Trilogy) by C.B. Day

out for special attention, now that
I was forced to ride the bus again.
    But none of that was why
I was so upset.  I was lonely.  It was one thing to be the odd girl out in
Alabama, where I’d always been left to my own devices.  It was entirely another
thing here, now that I’d gotten used to Michael being constantly at my side.  I
was painfully aware of the empty desk right next to mine in virtually every
class.  And the girls who’d been so slighted by Michael’s refusal to be smitten
now jeered at me and talked behind my back, which made me feel even more alone.
    I slid into my
Contemporary Issues class, thinking of all the ways I was going to blow Michael
off when he finally dared to show his face.
    “OK, class, today we are
going to start working on your research papers.  As a reminder this will comprise
fifty percent of your grade.  Remember,” Mr. Bennett paced around our desks,
enjoying one of the few precious moments of rapt attention he would get, “this
will be about a current issue that is challenging our society, your views on it
and your recommendations for addressing it.
    And, to introduce some
‘real world’ dynamics, you must work in pairs or small groups.”
    The room broke into the
chaos of sliding chairs and people shouting across the room to claim a
partner.  Mr. Bennett struggled to regain his command of the class amid the
squeals of delight and fist bumping.
    “Your first task,” he
bellowed over the cacophony as he began walking through the aisles.  “Your
first task is to review this list of suggested topics and choose one.  By the
end of this period you and your partner must submit your choice and outline a
preliminary set of research questions.”
    I tuned out the rest of
his instructions as he dealt the worksheets out.  My classmates fell upon the
lists, laughing, happy for the excuse to chat the hour away.  It only made me
feel Michael’s absence more acutely, which made me angry all over again.
    Around the room, people
were paired off, heads together.  I looked around, hoping to see a friendly
face – anyone who was also looking for a partner.
    Just one other person
remained.  Tabitha.
    She skewered me with a
look of wry amusement, one heavily penciled brow arching high in a question as
she swept her long bangs out of her deep mocha face.  “I guess since lover boy
split, it’s you and me, huh?”
    I felt my cheeks turning
red.  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I protested.
    “Whatever,” she snorted,
grabbing her notebook up in her shiny black fingertips.  The chains dangling
from her belt rattled as she hopped off her desk toward me.  “What d’ya say,
partner?”
    She was intimidating. 
She had all the trappings of a Goth – shockingly spiked hair, kohl-rimmed eyes,
piercings all over her ears and face, and black boots so high she probably
could have looked Michael in the eye. Truth was, she scared me more than a
little.  I’d noticed that while most of the black kids in school kept to
themselves in pretty tight cliques, they all steered clear of her – as did
everyone else.
    She cleared her throat
and tapped her thick-soled toes on the floor, reminding me she was waiting for
my answer.
    “I guess so.”
    “I hope you’ve got more
in you than ‘guess so,’ because this paper has got to kick ass,” she smirked,
stomping over to take the seat next to me.  “I already know what we should
write about,” she asserted, flopping the list of topics down in front of me. 
“Look.”
    I followed her pointed
finger to the topic she had circled.  Child slavery .
    “Atlanta has become a hub
for human trafficking,” she enthused, leaning in to convince me.  “Just like it
is for drugs and illegal immigration.  Kids get kidnapped and end up in all
sorts of bad situations.  Lots of organizations are trying to intervene,
churches and nonprofits and even the FBI, and there are shelters for kids that
get rescued.  We could even interview them.  I heard