Read The Elephant of Surprise (The Russel Middlebrook Series Book 4) for Free Online

really want to touch it when it's been in someone's mouth!"
    Gum on your locker is definitely annoying, but Min's reaction seemed a little over-the-top. As chance would have it, I had one of those little disposable toothbrushes in my pocket—I'd started carrying one a couple of months before so I could brush my teeth after lunch. I've also been known to tuck in my shirt and wear clean underwear. What can I say? Sometimes gay stereotypes are true.
    I wet the toothbrush with my mouth, then used it on the gum. I kept brushing until it was gone, then wiped the rest away with a Kleenex.
    "Thanks," Min said.
    I turned to her. "What's wrong?"
    "What?" She wouldn't look me in the eye.
    "This isn't about gum. Is it Leah?"
    Min slumped against her locker. "At the zoo, you were talking about Otto and I was talking about Leah. And here it is, three days later, and you and Otto have broken up."
    "What are you saying? You want to break up with Leah?"
    "No. But it's like I said before. Something is wrong. Something is still wrong. She's keeping secrets."
    I was about to tell her I thought she was being ridiculous, that there was no way Leah was keeping secrets from her. But then I remembered Kevin's secrets.
    "How about this?" I said. "Why don't we all go out together this weekend? I'll pay special attention to Leah. If she seems weird in any way, we'll figure out what to do next, okay?"
    Min considered. "I know you're just humoring me. You think you'll see her, and everything will be totally normal, and you'll be able to use that in order to tell me that I'm wrong, to just move on. But maybe you're right—maybe I am imagining things. So I'll give it a try."
     
    *   *   *
     
    I'm embarrassed to admit how much I wanted to see Wade again. But I was pretty sure he didn't have a phone number to call, or even an online profile to stalk. I didn't know his last name anyway.
    All I had to go on was the Dumpster where I'd first seen him. So in between classes, I found myself drawn there. If I had even the smallest piece of paper to throw out—the tiniest ball of pocket lint—I made a point to walk all the way to that stupid, sour-smelling Dumpster.
    He wasn't ever there. And did I mention how bad it stank?
    I knew returning to the Dumpster was stupid as I was doing it: even if Wade was to come back there again today, he wouldn't do it until the kitchen crew dropped off the trash from lunch. He and Venus had said as much the day before—they had it all timed.
    But he wasn't there after school either, even after I watched the kitchen dump its lunch trash. Gunnar and I usually rode home together, but I'd told him to go on without me (I'd lied and said I had to talk to a teacher about a school project).
    I lingered by that Dumpster for almost twenty minutes, but Wade never showed. It didn't matter anyway—he probably wasn't even gay. (On the other hand, his clothes had been spotless and, like I said, sometimes gay stereotypes are true!)
    I thought: maybe he's in that woods, hanging out at the homeless camp or gathering dandelions and nettles for a wild greens salad.
    I didn't have anything better to do, so I decided to check it out. My house was in the opposite direction from the woods, so I decided to leave my bike at the school and come back for it later.
    It was a cold winter's day—not freezing, just chilly—and the air under the trees smelled of frost and pine needles. Fortunately, I had on a thick jacket (people who ride their bikes to school every day know how to dress for the weather). It's funny how I hadn't noticed the temperature the day before when I'd been following Wade and Venus.
    I walked along the trails. The closest thing to a destination that I had in mind was the homeless camp—that was probably the most likely place for Wade to be. Maybe he brought them food every afternoon, but not necessarily always from the same place. What I hadn't counted on was how confusing those trails were—and I'd been in these woods even