1642734778_punk-57-pdf

Why would I say anything? This is hilarious. Ryen Trevarrow, Queen
Good Girl, sneaks into the school at night, breaking more than one law, to
anonymously leave messages and air dirty secrets for the student body right
under their noses.
Excellent.
I hear the guard’s radio beep and more muffled chatter, and I listen,
hearing him talk, his voice moving away from the door.
I take my bag and inch toward the door, listening again.
His voice is farther away now, and I crack the door just a sliver and
peek out. If we stay here, we’ll get caught. This isn’t the first time I’ve run
from cops, and you don’t choose a hiding place without an out.
“What are you doing?” Ryen asks.
I look out, seeing the beam of his flashlight outside the classroom door
as he talks on the radio. I glance across the lab, behind the teacher’s desk,
and see the door to another classroom, connected to the lab. Grabbing her
hand in mine, I pull her quickly across the room, hearing her suck in a
breath as we tread softly and hurry into the next room.
Pulling her through the doorway, I whip around a tall set of file cabinets
and back her into the dark corner, squatting down and hiding.
We hear him enter the other room again, a door creaks open and then
shuts, and a grumbled “little shit” before he talks to the other guy on the
radio again.
I stare at Ryen.
She’s Punk.
Oh, my God. She’s been sneaking around right under everyone’s noses,
carrying on this secret life at night. And then watching everyone’s reactions
in the morning as they scurry about, trying to find out which of their own it
is. Never suspecting her.