1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I nod, and we all quickly start walking down the hall.
“You, too,” I hear her say behind us, probably to Masen.
Why didn’t he do anything? Not that Trey’s a small guy he could easily
take, but I get the impression Masen has been in fights before. He’s volatile
and impulsive, so why did he hold back?
We jog up the stairs and enter the library. All of the other students are
already here, whispering, moving about, and gathering the materials they
need. Some are on the computers, and some are in the stacks. Our library
consists of two floors and a nice view into the main level from the balcony
up above. I dump my bag on a table toward the back and see Lyla and
Masen take seats two tables up.
J.D. and Trey plop down in the seats at our table, and Trey puts his feet
up.
Yeah, not happening. “You guys go to the computers and look up
‘Annotated Bibliographies,’” I tell them. “Print off some examples, and I’ll
go find some from secondary sources.”
I’m not doing this worksheet on my own.
Trey heaves a sigh, and J.D. laughs to himself, both of them getting
back up off their asses.
I twist around and head back to the non-fiction section.
The shelves loom high, and I skirt around a rolling ladder and turn left,
diving farther into the back of the library, away from the tables of students
and their hushed whispers.
I reach out and graze my hand along the spines of the books as I pass.
My mom’s going to wonder why I haven’t even started Fahrenheit 451. Not
that I’ll get into trouble, but she’ll wonder what’s been distracting me.
“You know, that kid,” I hear someone say, and I jerk my head to look
behind me.