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Just as Easton shut off the engine of his Harley-Davidson in front of the high school building, I frowned and looked at him, waiting for some kind of explanation.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, confused.
The parking lot was completely deserted. There wasn’t anyone else around besides us.
“We’re getting your stuff back.”
“But it’s Saturday. The school’s closed.”
The corner of his mouth curled upward in a smile that practically screamed trouble.
“You think that’s going to stop me?” he said before getting off the motorcycle.
What was he planning to do?
I unbuckled my helmet strap, climbed off the bike, and followed him.
“Are you insane?” I blurted out when I realized what he intended to do. “We can’t just break in. That’s illegal.”
“We’re not breaking in.” He slipped his
