1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I know I should go in. I should sit at a table without the armor of my
phone, homework, or a book, and just be there. If I hear whispers, then so
be it. Let them talk.
But I don’t have it in me today for some reason. Maybe I just don’t want
to see them. Maybe I don’t feel like getting covered in juice when I have to
be here half the evening.
Maybe I’m allowing myself to just wimp out today.
The hallway slowly empties, shoes squeak across the floor, and lockers
slam shut. The clatter of trays and the chatter of conversations filter out into
the hall, and I hear a door open to my left. Looking up, I see Trey coming
out of the bathroom. He holds a black cord with a pennant attached to it,
and he walks over to the garbage can, pulling it apart and breaking it, and
then dumping it in the can.
That’s Manny’s, I think. It’s one of the gothy necklaces he wears with
some band’s name on it or something.
Trey raises his eyes and sees me, and I twist the cap back on my water
bottle and walk his way, staying far to the right to go upstairs to the library.
But he rushes over and stops me, caging me in against the wall.
I exhale a hard sigh, turning angry.
“Where’s your bodyguard?” he asks, leaning his hands on the wall at
my sides and blocking my escape. “Oh, that’s right. I heard he bailed
school. Is he coming back?”
I push at his arm, trying to slip away, but he pushes me back, and I drop
my bottle.
“Get the hell away from me,” I growl.
“It’s your own fault,” he replies. “You shouldn’t be caught alone with
me. You’ve been asking for this.”