The cafeteria hushed as Jacob strolled through the double doors. He glared at the cheer-table occupants, rolled his tongue across his teeth and made for the corner of the room. His back smoldered from stares of contempt. With a tilted chin he let his backpack fall and hit the table, trays rattled.
Bethany cursed, “Watch it. You ruin my clothes again and I’ll text the whole school about what you really did last night.”
Jacob ignored her and pulled a black case from his pack, laid it on the table and flipped the clasp. From within he lifted a silver figurine. It clicked as he set it down. “What I really did? And how would you know?” The senior boy spun the statuette with a flip of his fingers. As it twirled the glare from the overhead lights reflected like glitter off the polished surface. It wobbled and stopped. The slender hand of a shimmering gypsy maiden pointed at Bethany. Jacob stowed the figurine and said, “Looks like you’re next.”
Bethany leveled a look. “Ha. Instead of playing with toys maybe you should figure out what to tell her.” She lifted a painted nail toward the doors.
Principal Dewar, twill-skirted, bobbed, dark hair, clip-walked up to Jacob, murmurs from the pubescent jury followed as a wave. “Bring your sack,” she said. “You’ll need it to empty your locker.”
Resolute, the boy trailed the woman. He couldn’t help but watch her ass jiggle beneath the Ma’cion couture. That night visions of the principal’s sharp cheekbones and penetrating eyes had him wondering if the woman’s thighs rubbed together as she walked.
Anonymole - apocryphal agitators 
The ending was funny. I wonder about such things sometimes, too.
The scene with Bethany was most interesting. What happened before and after?
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Indeed. Tales that drop you in the middle, dangle innuendo out both ends.
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You sound like Rick Wakeman talking about his first piano teachers rather large “qualifications.” However the trinket got my attention. Cursed, though? I didn’t hear it. Hey, I’m no shit working on a YA sans adverbs thought. Wanna go along, see what shakes out? The kid is the perfect foil for the bad girl accidental killer and the spy girl drummer. As in drum corps. Her guy friends think she listens to oddball acoustic guitar because she met “a Brazilian guy” at camp, and the other dude says man, if they let guys do that my dad can forget about me and engineering school.
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Wanna go along, see what shakes out?
Sure.
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Like always I have no clue and handful of characters thrown together, a true EL equation. I’ll post my second thought, send you an idea, tell me how the silver gypsy turns it all a little gothic in suburban LA or mythical big city USA. Hell,where did Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys live? Who knows but they had bays and hills all that so…we oughta be able to do YA with minimal adverbs and some clever realism/reality stretching missing from Disney does spies.
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I need something collaborative to jog my Matisse into a color extravaganza. What a wicked word. It spells “fucking great time.”
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