1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I groan inwardly. Yeah, but “Punk” always signs their messages. This is
getting out of hand.
I hear a noise and look up to see one of the janitors rolling a pressure
washer outside and trying to maneuver it down the stairs.
“Let’s go,” I tell Ten.
We walk into school and pass groups of students surrounding more
messages on the walls, these ones signed.
You kissed my hair while sticking me in the heart.
But your house will break before I fall apart.
-Punk
I see a couple of girls take out pens and add more under the lines,
dissing old boyfriends and writing things like, Yeah, Jake.
I hold back my laugh.
“This is killing me,” Ten exclaims as we make our way to our lockers.
“I want to know who Punk is, and I want in.”
I snort. Leave it to Ten. Of course Lyla is our friend, but Ten knows as
well as I do that what’s written on the lawn isn’t a lie, and I’m sure he’s
excited to see the showdown with J.D.
“I’ve got to hunt that bitch down and find out who she was in the locker
room with,” Ten says as he stops in front of his locker.
I keep walking, calling over my shoulder, “See you at lunch.”
I’m sure no one will discover whom Lyla was messing around with last
night. She probably won’t even admit it’s true.
Coming up in front of my new locker, I key in the combination and
open it, glancing to my left and noticing another janitor scrubbing away