Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I smiled, half-joking and half not. English One was the
first door across the hall from the stairwell upstairs, and the
stairwell was right outside the library to the left. I was sure I
could make it. And after driving an actual car last night, I kind
of wanted to try. It would be the extent of my fun for the day.
But I put her at ease anyway, knowing she still felt guilty
about me getting shoved into the locker room. “I’m kidding,” I
told her. “I’ll be fine. Someone will help me. I promise.”
“Okay,” she acquiesced. “I’ll see you in class.”
I gave a little wave and stuck in my earbuds, starting the
audiobook chapter on Native American tribes and early
colonization. I made sure not to put the volume too high,
though, so I could hear the first bell alerting me that lunch was
over, and I had five minutes to get to class.
I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and listened to the
woman’s voice go over tribes of eastern America and Canada
and trade with European settlers. Out of all the audiobooks for
my classes, I enjoyed this one the most. Her voice was sweet
and soft with lots of inflection like she was telling a bedtime
story.
Except for Algebra, which was always hard and I had little
care for, since I knew I wouldn’t have a career where it would
be useful, all my classes were going surprisingly well. My
teachers were helpful, and it was getting less awkward to have
conversations with them and be open about what I needed. I
mean, schools accommodated for learning disabilities, poverty,
illness, and severe behavioral problems. By comparison, I
couldn’t be that great of a burden, right?
My parents—and Arion—had really done a number on me.
While it was the psycho-stalker-sicko who made me smile and
gave me confidence. GGo figure.
Life was weird.
I needed to ask him questions when I met him again. If I
met him again. He wouldn’t answer just because I wanted him
to, though. I’d have to pry it out of him, like dancing the entire
Nutcracker Suite in exchange for his frickin’ name.