Mr. 60%

One  Matt Nolan kept his head bent low as he walked toward the front doors of the high school. A sophomore stepped in front of him. Matt could see the tip of a fifty-dollar bill clutched in the sophomore s fist.  Hey, the sophomore said. I, uh, I heard that you--  Matt shook his head once. Not here.  The sophomore stopped. Matt didn t break stride. The sophomore stared for a moment at the money in his hand, then jogged to catch up.  But I heard that you--   Not here. Matt jerked his head in the direction of the security camera mounted over the front doors. He pushed through. The sophomore followed, staying a few paces behind. Matt wound his way between the tables in the student commons, settling into a chair in the corner behind a pillar. The sophomore moved to join him.  Don t sit down.   Okay. The sophomore shuffled his feet and looked around as the commons filled with students from the morning buses. He thrust the money at Matt. Here, I--   Put that away.   Okay. He jammed the money into his pocket. Okay. He shuffled from side to side. So . . . how do I . . . ?  Matt kept his gaze on the table. How much you got?   Fifty.  Matt shook his head once. It s a hundred.   But I heard--   I don t know you. First time s a hundred.   But I don t have--   Then get the fuck away from me.  The sophomore rubbed his palms on his jeans. He glanced over at a table where a group of his friends sat, watching him. Okay. Okay, a hundred. I ve got it. I can get it.   You will never hand me money. Matt continued speaking to the table. The john on the third floor. Last stall. That s your spot. Tuck the cash behind the metal casing that holds the toilet paper. Has to be there by noon. It was quiet for a minute. We re done now.   Okay. Yeah. But how do I--   You ll have it by the end of the day.  Eventually the sophomore drifted away, toward the staircase, looking over at the administrative offices with deliberate casualness.   During first period the police officer assigned to the school