1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I lunge for him.
I grab hold of the book, but he shoves me back, and I stumble onto the
bed, his body coming down on mine.
I grunt and cry out, trying to get the book.
He reaches for something, and then my scissors from my desk is
pointing at my face. I freeze, staring at the tip.
“Don’t worry,” he taunts in a dark voice. “I won’t make sure this falls
into your mom’s hands. I’m going to rip out every fucking page and plaster
them all over school, so listen loud and clear, you stupid cunt. I’m done
talking to you, and I’m done looking at you. I want the locket, and I want
the piece of paper you took at the Cove.”
“The Cove?” I gasp under the weight of his body. “Wha—“
What the hell is he talking about?
And then I pause as it hits me. The Cove. Last night. The piece of paper.
I want a lick while you still taste like you.
And then today… You taste like shit.
I stare at him, dumb-founded. “Oh, my God.”
That was his room?
I was right. There was someone there in the tunnel. He saw us.
And then I widen my eyes. He was the one who broke into my locker!
That’s why nothing was missing. He didn’t find what he was looking for.
He darts to my side and snaps the scissors, and I wince as he brings the
scissors back up, a few of my light brown hairs floating in the air.
“Stop!” I yell. “I don’t…I…”
His dark green eyes narrow on me, threatening and cutting right through
me.
I growl, grappling for my pillow and reaching inside, pulling out a
folded, worn piece of paper.