his toes. But then, Janza could always be eliminated. A loose stair rail, say, on the third floor.
'What do you think, Bunting? What do you think, O leader of us all?'
Bunting pretended to be deep in thought, letting Janza dangle a bit, not wanting to appear too eager, too ready to accept Janza's plans.
'We'll see,' he said finally. 'I've got some plans of my own, you know. But I think it will work out okay. . '
Janza grinned, amazed at the accuracy of Archie's predictions. You'll have a great year, Archie had said. Which Janza echoed now: 'We're going to have a great year, Bunting.'
Bunting nodded. Continued to stare into space. Not wanting to look at Janza now or anybody or anything. Staring into the future, next year, beyond. Him, Bunting, in command of the entire school. Stooges at his beck and call. An army at his disposal. No rules except those he made up. The boss. More than that. Like a dictator, for crissake.
Beautiful.
