1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I stare at the word written on the back of my door, in large, chalk letters
that I didn’t write.
Fraud.
The next morning, I make my way to Ten’s locker, but only after stopping
by the school office and reporting my own vandalized and getting a new
one assigned. Students crowd the halls, and I hold my books in my arm and
turn inward, trying to avoid any attention.
“Do you have it?” I ask without saying hello first.
He glances up from his locker and sighs, looking a little embarrassed.
I’d texted him last night, demanding he bring the locket today.
Reaching into the pocket of his knee-length shorts, he pulls out a long
chain with a circular, silver locket hanging off it.
I take it, instantly feeling a little relief at having what that asshole
wants. Now I can get my notebook back.
“Why would you take this?” I snap. Did he think it would go well with
his J. Crew T-shirts?
But Ten just shrugs. “It looked like an antique. I thought maybe it might
be worth something.”
I slip the necklace into my pocket. “Klepto.”
“How did you know I took it anyway?”
Because the hot new guy, who also happens to be squatting in an
abandoned theme park, broke into my bedroom last night, cut my hair, and
threatened to expose my hideous inner musings about all of my friends if I
didn’t get it back.
Yeah, no.