The Rip
Behind them, Travis shoulder-checked a smaller Year 10 kid into the lockers, then laughed when the kid’s books exploded onto the linoleum.
“Dickhead,” Rachel muttered.
Nick stopped, turned. “Pick them up,” he said to Travis, voice even.
“Oh, the detective’s spawn gives orders,” Travis sneered, but he bent anyway, tossing the books back with more care than his mouth suggested. He glared at Nick as if the compliance had cost him blood. “See you tonight, lover boy.”
Nick frowned. “Tonight?”
“Carly’s. Post-practice. Tower if we get bored.” Travis’s grin went sly. “Don’t be late.”
Bab Populer