Heavy rainfall beat against the bus windows as it rumbled down an otherwise empty highway. Two lanes divided by yellow paint. Curved around the landscape, weaving between trees that became more dense as the minutes passed. The canopy of leaves quieted the pattering of rain.

Sat in a row closer to the back, Dylan watched as two drops of rain raced toward the metal frame and silently rooted for the one on the left. They kept their Discman carefully balanced on their leg to keep it from skipping in the middle of their favorite song. Avril Lavigne’s sophomore album poured from Dylan’s over-ear headphones, and they hoped to listen to Slipped Away all the way through without interruption.

The woods gave way to sidewalks surrounding decaying brick buildings and stop lights. Civilization at last, or at least as close to it as Dylan would get until graduation.

For as long as they could remember, nothing Dylan did ever pleased their mother. Seemed like she hated them since the morning they were born. Whether they got straight A’s or caught shoplifting, their mother never seemed to care. Dylan had to learn pretty quick that it was their own responsibility to keep themself fed, in clothes, and in school.

But when good grades garnered no praise, Dylan figured that last one didn’t matter much. After the fourth court visit for twenty in one year, their mother decided she was finally done dealing with the hassle.

“You’re going to boarding school,” she had murmured over a third glass of wine. “Maybe after two years of discipline, you’ll finally learn to behave.”

The memory made Dylan roll their eyes at the cracking pavement that passed between the wheels. A pothole caused their CD to skip, and they could hear the driver apply the hydraulic brakes, squealing to a stop just outside an orange brick wall with an ornate iron gate.

“Get your stuff,” the driver grumbled.

As Dylan was the only passenger, they didn’t mind their rolling suitcase knocking against every arm rest in the aisle on their way to the front. The driver grunted something at them as they waddled down the steps onto the crumbling concrete, their suitcase rumbling down behind them just before the doors closed with a snap.

The bus pulled away quickly, leaving Dylan alone in this unknown town. They looked past the gate to a towering brick building that looked abandoned. From this distance, they could trace the ivy-façade with their eyes, wondering for a moment if the driver had stopped at the wrong place.

Their worries vanished when they heard the chime of the bells from the academy’s tower and saw a uniformed kid hurry into the main door. Dylan pushed open the screeching gate and dragged their luggage along the cobbled stone path under an arch reading ‘Girls’ Dormitory.'

Dylan decided they would get their room assignment later and left their bags in the foyer before heading to the main building. They had missed orientation the day before on account of their mother waiting until the last possible second to buy the Greyhound ticket, so they figured they should find the office to get their schedule.

The grand double doors opened to glossy tiles under a lofted second story. A mosaic laid before them, the Bullworth Academy crest, fitted into the floor under their dirty Converse sneakers.

Before they could get a look around, a senior student the height and size of a skyscraper stomped into their personal space. He crossed his sport coat cladded arms over his broad chest.

“Where’s your uniform?” he growled.

Dylan looked down at their stained tank top and light wash jeans and scoffed. “Probably left it at home,” they smirked and added in an overly sarcastic tone. “Guess I gotta go back to Ohio.”

This authority figure was clearly not amused. He pulled Dylan by their backpack strap past the student store to a door labeled ‘Detention’ on a plastic plaque.

Dylan was pushed into the room where another Skyscraper Senior sat in a desk facing the room full of loosely occupied desks.

“Got one more for ya, Ed,” the building behind them spoke.

Ed nodded over the newspaper he was skimming. “Thanks, Seth. Keep up the good work.”

“Take a seat, Ohio,” Seth ordered before the door slammed shut.

Dylan scanned the room for an empty desk, hopefully surrounded by more empty desks. They quickly zig-zagged between the sprinkling of other students to a seat in the back row, trying to avoid making eye-contact with anyone.

They slid into a chair behind a brown leather jacket. A styled mound of red hair peeked above the popped collar.

Smooth leather squeaked against polished wood as the boy turned around. “No uniform, huh?” he whispered.

Dylan shrugged. “I guess they want us to assimilate so we can be torn apart as equals.”

His eyes lit up as a smile grew on his face. “That’s exactly what I said.” The soft features of his faces contrasted his otherwise rough exterior, giddy with the mutual respect of nonconformity. “I’m Vance, by the way,” he added and his green eyes reflected under the florescent lights.

“Dylan,” they breathed. “So, what are you in for?”

Vance smirked. “Smoking behind the auto shop.”

“Again?” a shrill trans-Atlantic voice rang from the desk next to his. Her stilettos clicked against the floor as she turned to join the conversation. “You keep doin’ that, you’ll get us all kicked out.”

He shrugged in her direction while pointedly not making eye-contact. “This is Lola. She tries to keep us honest, I think.”

A fly-away hair clung to her lip gloss as she pulled her mouth into a grin. “You’re sorta cute.” Her gum crackled in her Crest Strip white teeth. She lowered her gaze at Vance. “Keep her away from Johnny.”

Vance rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows youse attached at the lips. Even if she wanted to get with Johnny, someone’d have to pry you apart with a crowbar. You know if he was here, you’d be in his lap.”

Dylan breathed a laugh. “I can’t imagine Johnny’s got wandering eyes when he’s got someone like you.”

Her grin was back as she lifted the cheetah print collar of her jacket. She leaned closer to Vance. “I like this one,” Lola whispered.

They smiled. “Besides, I don’t wanna bother wasting my time here with boys.”

“Sounds borin’,” Lola shrugged. “It’s too bad, there’s tons of guys in this place who’d probably die to take you out.”

Vance smirked. “Of course you know all about that.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She playfully punched his shoulder. “I’m no slut. That was before I got with Johnny.”

Vance took a breath to respond, then a wad of paper whizzed between their heads. “Would you losers shut up?” some self-righteous voice called from the front of the room. “I’m losing brain cells listening to your asinine bullshit.”

Dylan’s eyes tracked the source of the complaints.

He was sitting in the third row with one foot propped on the back of his chair, sporting a sharp jawline and a scar on his eyebrow. Even in a bunched up teal sweater vest, he looked like an adventure.

He rested back on his elbows as he glared at the group, a pretentious little grin spreading across his dry lips. His eyes strayed to the others for only a moment before focusing on Dylan. His expression seemed to softened a bit for a second, but he quickly refocused on Vance with that same hard look he had before.

“Can it, Gary,” Vance barked over his shoulder. “No one here would back you up in a fight.”

“Wanna put money on that?” he chuckled darkly. “As if you aren’t always cowering behind Ricky.”

A snap from a ruler hitting the front desk startled the room into silence. “Both of you shut up,” Ed’s booming voice echoed against the peeling wallpaper, “unless you want to spend your weekend raking the grounds.”

“Sorry, Ed,” Vance said quietly as his suddenly nervous gaze dropped to the floor.

Gary sucked his teeth. “You would,” he muttered and casually flipped him the bird as he dropped to sit forward.

Dylan propped their chin on their elbow, suddenly captivated by the back of that boy’s head. Vance swiped their arm and their head smacked on the desktop, earning a round of stifled giggles from the few kids who saw.

“What were you saying about not wasting your time with boys?” he whispered with a smirk.

Dylan absently rubbed the sore spot on their cheek and softly chuckled. “I dunno, he seems fun.”

Lola laughed. “Yeah, if you’re into friendless creeps.” She dipped her head down to catch Dylan’s eye over her shoulder. “He’s not the kind of boy I meant.”

They shrugged. “At least the friendless creeps know all the spots on campus no one will catch you smoking,” they noted with a sideways look at Vance.

Lola giggled as he crossed his arms in defiance and mumbled, “Whatever.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Scattered shuffling filled the room with white noise as the rest of the students made their way out of detention. Vance took a minute to readjust the layering of his shirts and comb his pompadour. Dylan was heading for the door when he called their name.

They turned to see him flattening the hair on the sides of his head, even though it didn’t look any different than it did five minutes ago.

“You should come to the tenements later,” he said.

Dylan shrugged, “Yeah, maybe,” with no idea what that meant. They pushed through the crowd and spotted the sign for the office on the second floor. The students dispersed around them and they quickly climbed the stairs and ducked into the labeled archway.

The woman behind the counter already looked annoyed as she gave them a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “You must be our new student.” She eyed Dylan’s outfit. “Your uniform is in the wardrobe in your room.”

“I’m getting to it,” Dylan huffed. “Can I just get my schedule?”

She pressed her lips into a line as she carefully turned on her heels to the filing cabinet behind her. The drawer winced open and her acrylic nail grazed the tip of every tab before stopping at a thin manila file. She pulled it out and asked without looking up, “Your name?”

“Dylan Ramirez.”

“Ah, yes.” She held up the only piece of paper in the folder. “If you had been here on time, we wouldn’t have this problem, would we?”

Dylan swiped the paper out of her hand. “Like I had anything to do with it,” they muttered.

The woman hooked her thumbs over her clotheshanger hips. “You had better clean up your attitude or, I presume, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other this year.”

A smirk found it’s way onto Dylan’s face. “You seem so nice, I’d love to get to know you better.”

Her face turned red like she wanted to call Dylan a bitch so bad but couldn’t risk getting fired. “And I’m sure you’re lovely,” she grated, “but you clearly need to focus on your classes. So I advise you to behave, starting with wearing the appropriate attire, and being back in class after lunch.”

Dylan nodded as they left, navigating quickly back to the dorms. Their suitcase had already been moved from the foyer. An older woman waved to them from the bottom of the staircase.

“You must be Ms. Ramirez,” she sweetly croaked. “I’ve put your things in your room. It’s just upstairs, last room on the right.”

Dylan headed upstairs. As they approached the open door, two voices poured into the hall.

“I’m sorry, Mandy, it was an accident!” one girl cried.

They went inside to find the two standing face to face in the middle of the room. A blue and white cheerleading uniform towered over a plaid dress with a mouthful of braces.

“I don’t care if it was an accident,” the cheerleader, presumably Mandy, spat, “You’re gonna pay for this.”

Dylan cleared their throat to catch the girls’ attention. “Uh, hi. What’s going on?”

Mandy huffed and put her hands on her canted hips. “She ruined my shoes.” Dylan looked to the floor and realized she was in just her socks.

Braces held out her palms. “I made a simple miscalculation which cause and exothermic reaction, resulting in an unstable chemical compound―” she nervously rambled until Dylan disregarded her with a wave.

“No nerd speak, in English, please,” they sighed with an eyeroll.

The girl dropped her gaze to the grey carpet, picking at a hangnail.

Mandy groaned. “Her stupid science project melted my sneakers. Now I won’t match the rest of the squad at homecoming ‘cause all I have are the black ones from last year.” She turned back to Braces. “You did that on purpose just to fuck with me.”

The girl quickly shook her head as fear grew in her eyes. “No, I swear!”

Mandy wrapped her fist around the scrunchie in Braces’ half-up hair and tugged. Braces yelped in pain and crumpled to the floor.

Dylan pushed Mandy away and helped the girl up. “Yeah, it’s really not that serious,” they breathed in Mandy’s direction.

Mandy gasped. “Now you’re on her side?”

“I’m not on any side, this is just a dumb argument.” They quirked an eyebrow at Braces. “Are you okay, uhh…”

“Beatrice,” she supplied. “And I think so.”

Dylan smiled and gestured to the door. “I’ll see you around, Beatrice.”

She quickly dashed into the hall and closed the door behind her. When Dylan turned around, Mandy was glaring at them from under furrowed brows.

“Who are you?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think I’m you’re new roommate. I’m Dylan.”

“Oh, Mandy nodded at their suitcase, “that explains that stinking mess. Where are you from? Cigarette town?”

Dylan rolled their eyes. “Good one.” They dropped their backpack on the bed by the window. Their suitcase stood in front of one of the two wardrobes. Assuming that one is theirs, Dylan pulled open the wooden doors to find three white button up shirts with the schools crest embroidered on one side, under them hung three plaid blue skirts and a matching tie. They pulled out one of each, the outfit that they’d spend most of the next two years wearing. Dylan wondered how necessary it was to even pack clothes. They tossed the pieces next to their backpack and began undressing.

As they pulled the crisp pleated skirt up their thighs, they heard a metallic snap and whir behind them. Dylan spun to see Mandy waving an undeveloped Polaroid photo with a smug look on her face.

“What the hell?!”

“Just insurance,” she shrugged. “Y’know, in case you ever feel like pulling a Brace Face.”

Blackmailed into the social hierarchy? Dylan realized the kids here are a lot more brutal than her last school.

“That’s messed up, you know that?” Dylan sighed, zipping their skirt. “Besides, why would I wanna mess with you?”

Mandy shrugged. “People who end up in a place like this are always trying to get ahead for one reason or another.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Excuse me?” Dylan faced her with crossed arms.

“Fresh meat and fat? You’ll be desperate to climb the social ladder.”

They sucked their teeth. “Like I care about that. I’m not constantly chasing attention like some people,” they raised their eyebrows notedly.

Mandy scoffed. “Whatever! Give it a week and a decent haircut and you’ll have half the guys in this school wrapped around your finger.”

“Okay, what’s so wrong about my hair?”

She continued, “All that matters is, when you try to fuck with me, I’ll deal with you.”

“You don’t scare me,” they huffed as they pulled on the starched white shirt.

Mandy slid the photo between the pages of her locked diary where it sat on her desk then picked up the tube of lip gloss next to it. “We’ll just see about that,” she purred with ice in her voice as she reapplied her gloss.

Dylan wrapped the tie under their collar and quickly made work of tying it, their experience coming from dressing like Avril Lavigne in middle school. They checked their appearance in the full length mirror and folded the sleeves to their elbows.

“Y’know,” Mandy popped her reshined lips, “you’re kind of a bitch.”

Dylan quirked their eyebrows and scoffed. “Thanks?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, you may not have naturally good looks like me,” she fluttered her eyelashes and flicked her ponytail for emphasis, “but we don’t get new kids a lot, and you’ve got that girl-next-door trailer park one-of-the-guys kinda look to you. If you bothered to put on some makeup, maybe do something about your hair, I wouldn’t be embarrassed to say you were my friend.”

Dylan wasn’t interested in changing their appearance for anyone else, but they couldn’t trust Mandy wouldn’t show that picture to anyone. They made a mental note to play it safe for now.

“Any chance being your friend means I get to hold on to that picture?”

Mandy smirked and shook her head. “Even my friends know they need to stay in line.” She reached out to flatten the wrinkles on Dylan’s shirt. “But, I figure if we’re gonna be roommates, we should at least try to get along.”

Dylan swatted away her hands. The skirt’s waistband dug into their hips. “Yeah, whatever,” they muttered, trying to ignore the puckered buttons down their front. Either Mom underestimated their size when she enrolled them, or this was another backhanded way of telling them to lose weight. But they shook that thought out of their head. Mom never cared enough to be sneaky.

And Dylan wasn’t even fat, not really. Feeling suffocated in the tight clothes suddenly made them hyperaware of every roll on their body. Thoughts crept into their head, sludging around and spreading grime into every corner of their mind.

They could feel theirself comparing their body to Mandy’s. Her thighs didn’t touch, her face was angular, slender fingers that picked off a bit of pilled wool from her tiny cheer uniform.

Dylan tried not to groan as they refocused on their reflection. The shirt at least wasn’t visibly too small, so hopefully no one will notice. They ran their fingers through their hair to loosen a few knots for good measure.

They snaked their backpack over their shoulder and made their way back to the main building. The halls echoed with squeaking sneakers and chatting voices as students scurried to their next classes. Dylan wandered down the hall to the right in search of the English classroom.

“You look lost,” a familiar voice said.

Dylan turned to see Vance casually leaning against a row of lockers.

“Where ya headin’?” he asked.

They read from their schedule, “Mr. Galloway’s English?”

Vance smiled. “Me too. C’mon, I’ll take you there.”

Dylan followed him down the winding corridor to the left wing of the school. “You look awful, by the way,” he noted.

They scoffed, their wind wandering back to the mirror. “Thanks.”

“The uniform, dummy,” he chuckled. “Now you blend in with every other stuck up girl at this school. All you need is the bratty attitude and inability to tie your shoes without singing a song about it.”

Dylan snorted and the negative energy melted way. “Like, oh my God, this outfit totally doesn’t go with my skin tone,” they chirped in a Valley girl accent.

Vance stopped to laugh just outside the classroom door. “Jeez, you’d be so weird if you were like that.”

They went in and found the last two seats next to each other just as the bell rang. The teacher waited at the front of the room for the idle chatter to die down before addressing the class.

“Afternoon, students. Here’s the assignment,” he held up a stack of papers. “No talking.” He passed out the papers then sat behind his desk with a bottle in a paper bag.

“A word scramble?” Dylan whispered when they read the sheet.

Vance sighed. “I suck at these.”

Dylan smirked and quickly started writing out all the words they could make with the available letters. Before long, they had spelled out most of the words when they noticed Vance frowning at his paper. Dylan snickered at his frustration. “Dude, mellow out, they whispered.

“Oh, mellow!” He scribbled down the answer like he had figured it out himself.

They whispered back and forth like that for the rest of class, only pausing when Mr. Galloway had been slowly walking up and down the aisles. When the bell rang, Vance’s paper had almost half of the blanks filled in. Dylan turned in the completed assignment, covered in doodles they’d done in the margins in the extra time.

“Thanks for the help,” Vance said as the class spilled into the hallways. “The guys and I are heading to the tenements if you wanna come.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Cool,” he nodded. “Meet us outside.” Then disappeared into the crowd of students.

Dylan wove through the halls to find the vending machine they had noticed on their way in. They fished a few quarters out of their sock and bought a Beam Zero. They sipped it on the front steps while they waited for Vance and his friends to show up.

A few minutes later, a group of boys clad in leather and denim rounded the corner, each riding a pristine customized bike. Vance was among them, nodding in Dylan’s direction when he caught sight of them.

“You got wheels, Dyl?” he asked. When Dylan shook their head, he pointed to a standard orange dirt bike that someone left leaning on the short brick wall that surrounded the building. “Take that one.”

Dylan walked over to it but as soon as they put their hands on the handle bars, they heard prefects shouting at them.

“Let’s get out of here, boys,” said the bigger guy in the brown leather jacket and lead the group out the front gate.

Dylan hopped on the bike and pedaled hard to keep up with them. The footsteps of the prefects hot on their tail faded as they turned out to the street.

The guys laughed as they evaded authority and curved down the roads into New Coventry. Garbage and old crates lined the sidewalks of the more disheveled part of the town. The brick buildings covered in foliage and graffiti made it apparent this was an area with less upkeep.

The group lined their bikes along the sidewalk in front of a clearly abandoned apartment building and entered through the only window on the ground floor that hadn’t been boarded up. Dylan tossed their stolen bike in the alley and followed them inside.

The rooms inside had only a few walls covered in peeling wallpaper, the rest had been torn down only leaving the supporting studs. Damaged appliances littered the halls that the guys navigated through to the stairs. They chatted about the upgrades they planned on making to their bikes while they made their way to the top floor.

The largest room at the end of the hall was filled with card tables and rotted couches that Dylan guessed the guys had drug in from the other units. A few of them gathered on the couches and chairs near where Lola had already been sitting with another boy on the least destroyed couch.

Crushed beer cans rattled against their feet as Vance made his way to a mattress that had been folded against the wall in a corner. He sat down and pulled out a pack of filtered Winstons.

Dylan smiled and sat next to him. “Can I bum one of those?” They’d left their tin of cigarettes back at their dorm, and a fresh one was better than the half-smoked ones they’d picked up in parking lots.

Vance put one between his teeth before passing another to Dylan, lighting theirs first then his own.

“Thanks,” Dylan breathed out in a puff of smoke.

“Don’t mention it, I owe you for helping in class.” He shrugged, “With you around, maybe I’ll actually pass this semester.”

Dylan waved him off. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m sure you coulda done it on your own.”

“No way, man. I have trouble staying focused on shit like that.” He ashed his cigarette, took another drag, and continued. “It’s not like working on a bike, figuring out what’s wrong, getting everything smooth. That shit’s meditative.”

Dylan lightly chuckled. “And here I thought you were smart,” they muttered into their cigarette.

“I am,” he punched their arm. “I just got… distracted.”

“By?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Vance breathed.

“Huh?”

He blinked in surprise. “Oh, I thought you meant― nevermind.”

Dylan raised their hands in defeat. “Alright, I’m lost.”

Vance eyed the room to make sure no one was paying attention to them, but leaned in closer just in case. “You know Trent Northwick?”

They shook their head. “I’ve only been here one day, dude.”

“Well, he’s in most of my classes and he’s… captivating. I can’t think about math ‘cause I’m imagining us kissing under the moonlight.”

Dylan clapped a hand over their mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “Sorry,” they giggled. “You coulda just called him cute or whatever.”

Vance breathed a laugh. “I guess so. But, you get my point, right?”

They nodded and returned to their cigarette. “You’re good with me.”

“Thanks.”

They smoked in silence for a bit, then Dylan asked, “So, what else is there to do in this town?”

“Not much, really,” he shrugged. “Especially since they closed the carnival for maintenance.”

Dylan sat up straight. “There’s a carnival?”

“Yeah, with go-karts and rides and stuff.”

“Any coasters?”

“Just one. Big Canyon Railway.”

“What kind?”

Vance choked on a mouthful of smoke. “Huh?”

“Wood or steel?” Dylan clarified.

“Oh, it’s made of wood, I guess.”

Dylan beamed. “Awesome! So, when does it open?”

Vance shrugged, “They say it might not be for another month.”

“Damn, why’d you even tell me then?” they groaned.

“Well,” he lilted as he stood and picked up one of the cans of spray paint lined up by the door, “I do know the back way in.” He smiled knowingly and wagged the can.

The boy sitting with Lola noticed. “Careful, Vance. Remember, that one cop patrols there sometimes.”

Vance sighed. “You’re the one that almost got us banned for life, Johnny. They caught you and Lola twice last week.”

Johnny shrugged. “At least I can get a girl,” he chuckled and Lola kissed him gratuitously.

Vance made a face at Dylan, and they knew what he was referring to. “You comin’ or what?” he asked before ducking out.

Dylan followed him back down to the street and the two rode bikes back through the town, past city hall, into Old Bullworth Vale. Vance led them through the manicured lawns to an ornate stone wall.

“You can climb down the rocks, right?” he asked.

“Duh, c’mon.” Dylan quickly jumped over the stones and dropped down on the other side. Vance followed and showed them the best footholds as they made their way to the ground.

The two landed between wooden supports and Dylan looked up in amazement. “Is that Big Canyon Railway?” they smiled.

Vance nodded. “Now, c’mon, we gotta get to the other barrier.”

Dylan followed him between the beams, ducking under a few low ones. They hopped the fence into the rest of the park and Dylan was awestruck.

Bathed in kenopsia, the vacant park was speckled with flat rides and midway games. All caged up and covered in unlit bulbs. Napkins and treat wrappers blew around in the gentle wind that swam between the structures.

Dylan spun on the cobblestone path under the sky deepening into a peachy orange glow. The park was smaller and less polished, but it reminded them of home.

They imagined what it would look like all lit up, bustling with townsfolk. The ambient music and excited chatter bubbled in their mind. Everything they remembered about King’s Island when they were a kid, only on a smaller scale. Dylan could almost taste the cotton candy already.

Vance had disappeared into a fun house shaped like a spooky clown face. He reemerged a few minutes later, shaking the spray paint can. “Okay, daydreamer. Your turn,” he smirked and handed them the can.

They took the can and eyed the freak show building down the alley. Dylan smiled and headed that way. The metal ball rattled against the aluminum while they thought about their tag, then they painted the first thing that came to them. A simple rubber duck. Dylan added a few words around it, then stood back to admire their masterpiece.

Vance chuckled and read it aloud. “‘Go duck yourself,’ nice.”

As the two basked in satisfaction of their crimes, red and blue lights reflected on the cliffside on the other side of the fence.

“Shit, that cop,” Vance whispered. He pulled Dylan through the curtain into the small building. “Stay here, I’ll keep watch.”

Dylan scoffed. “I’m not gonna hide out all night, dude. I’m a runner.” They ducked back out the door and crouched along the fence. They could hear the officer’s boots crunching over the gravel on the other side. When the footsteps faded, and Dylan could tell he had moved to the other section of the park, they lifted theirself over and dropped down, careful to shift their weight so they wouldn’t make any noise.

They landed between a game and a pretzel stand, then darted into the prize tent. One side was lined with powered down arcade cabinets while the back wall was covered in shelves displaying the prizes. Shirts, hats, and novelty posters were eye catching enough, but Dylan was more interested in the small motor scooter behind the counter.

Dylan vaulted over and lifted it, seeing if it was light enough to carry. They pushed it over the counter and took it outside.

Vance appeared behind the fortune teller machine and ran over to them. “Dude, no way!” he quietly exclaimed when he saw the scooter. How you think we’re gonna get up the hill?”

Dylan pointed to the barricade in the tunnel that had been moved for the police car. “Where’s the cop?”

“He’s on the go-kart track, usually takes about twenty minutes.”

They straddled the scooter with their hand on the key. “Hop on.”

Vance grinned and sat behind them, nervously putting his hands on their shoulders.

The motor started with a hollow screech that echoed through the empty park, and Dylan sped through the entryway. They heard the cop shouting distantly as they passed through the tunnel.

Dylan sped up as they reentered Old Bullworth Vale and hopped the curb to hit a series of makeshift ramps in front of a bike store. Vance gasped and wrapped his arms around Dylan’s waist.

They laughed. “Relax, dude, this thing tops out at 15.”

“Whatever, we were airborn.” He pointed at a road over the bridge. “Turn here, we can keep it in the school’s garage.”

Dylan pulled into the parking lot of the academy and drove to the open garage. They parked it and reveled in their bounty for a moment.

“Man, I can’t believe you stole this thing,” Vance said. “I can’t wait to show the guys tomorrow.”

“We should name it, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “You took it, you should name it.”

Dylan thought for a second then smiled. “Bandit.”

“That’s perfect,” Vance smiled and patted the seat. “I better go grab my bike from the bridge. See you tomorrow?”

Dylan casually saluted him as he left then headed to the girls dorm.