The Collector Read Online Free

her cheek and glances over her shoulder. “There’s a security guard, like, ten feet away. I could have you kicked out of here.”
    “For what? Being awesome?”
    She crinkles her nose like she smells something bad. That stank is called desperation. That’s what I’d like to tell her, anyway. Instead, I wait while she shoves the cash into her purse and hands me a blue slip of paper. “Show this to your teachers if they ask why you’re there. Good luck on your midterms,” she jeers. “Go ahead and follow Charlie’s schedule. I’m sure you guys will be great friends.”
    I point a finger at her. “Thanks, babe.”
    “I am not your babe. ”
    “Whatev.”
    Outside the office, Charlie’s leaning against the wall. A pile of books are stacked in her arms, and she rests her chin on top.
    “You really need all those books?” I ask.
    “You can never be too prepared, right?” she says. A guy shoulders his way past her, and Charlie’s books clatter to the floor. She dives to the ground to scoop them up.
    “Watch yourself,” I tell him, because he almost hit me, too.
    The dude turns and flips me off.
    Right as the guy’s about to turn the corner, I flick my wrist in his direction. The yellow of his soul flips on, and seconds later, a small red seal attaches to the light. That prick needs to learn some manners. I form my hands into guns and fire them off in his direction. “Pow! Pow!”
    “What are you doing?” Charlie asks from the floor.
    “Nothing you should worry about.” I roll my shoulders. Man, it feels good to seal souls. Like eating a little slice of bacon. I think about turning around and sealing the soul of the lady who accepted my bribe, but I’m too distracted by Charlie’s bumbling. “Why don’t you put some of those books in your backpack, Charlie?”
    “Oh, no,” she says, her eyes widening behind her glasses. “That causes back problems.” She swings her long hair over her shoulder. “So did they let you in? Can you go to classes?”
    “Yeah, I can go.” The realization that I’m back here, in high school, pours over me. Isn’t the one upside of death a free ticket out of this crap hole? At least the high school I went to was nicer than this. We had the kind of school portrayed in movies. This place, on the other hand, is the Walmart of high schools: scuffed linoleum floors, ratty double-decker lockers, and plastic everything.
    “So you’re in. Nice!” Charlie beams.
    I meet her eyes and say slowly, “Cool.”
    “Cool what?” she asks, her face pulling together in confusion.
    “It’s cool that I got in, not nice .” She glances away, and I can tell I hurt her feelings. Crap. In order to have a bad influence on this girl, she’s got to like me. “Then again, what do I know?” It’s a lame attempt at making her feel better, but still she perks up.
    “No, you’re right.” She swims her hand in front of her face. “It’s coooool.”
    I grab her hand and pull it to her side. “Let’s just go to class, all right?”

    …
    Three excruciating hours later, I’m walking Charlie to lunch. I used to think teachers were idiots, and two years later, I’m sure I’m right.
    Kids are pouring out of the four hallways that spill into the cafeteria. The overhead lighting is so bright, I have to shade my eyes. Something squeals loudly, and I ready myself to kill some sort of rodent. But it’s Charlie. Apparently, whoever’s walking toward us warrants this kind of hysterical reaction.
    “There’s my Char-Char!” a girl sings as she nears us. She’s every bit as tall as I am and twice as thick. Charlie hugs Amazon Girl and then turns to me. “Dante, this is Annabelle.”
    No. No way. That name is reserved for females with grace and elegance, not this girl. This girl is…beastly. “Annabelle,” I say. “It suits you.”
    Annabelle laughs deeply and tosses an arm around Charlie, who I can only imagine is being crushed by the weight. “Yeah? ’Cause I always thought