1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I catch sight of Masen out of the corner of my eye, leaning his desk
forward, closer to mine, and whispering, “But he was hot, so I guess that’s
all that’s important, right?”
I keep staring ahead, the knots in my stomach pulling tighter and tighter.
Sure, Edward was decades older than Bella. But the fact that he was good
looking had nothing to do with her loving him anyway.
Masen continues his attack. “Now if he looked like most hundred-yearold
men looked,” he calls out, and I see him stand up, “it wouldn’t have
been romantic, would it? There would be no Bella and Edward.” He walks
up to the front of the class and rounds the teacher’s desk, gesturing to the
laptop. “May I?”
The teacher nods, looking wary but allowing it.
Masen leans down, and I refuse to look as he types something into the
search engine. But when more laughter breaks out, louder this time, I can’t
help myself.
I glance up at the screen and instantly feel anger curl my fingers into a
fist.
A huge image of an old man, withered with wrinkles, missing teeth, and
bald but with wiry, silver hairs sprouting from the top of his nose smiles
back at us, and I glare at Masen, who grins back.
“Old geezer Edward is a happy guy,” he gloats, “because he’s about to
get naked with Bel-la.”
“Aw, yeah!” J.D. hollers, and everyone loses control. Students double
over laughing, and their amusement surrounds me like a wall closing in.
Everything is getting smaller, and I start to feel the space in my lungs shrink
as I pull harder to take in air.
I clench my teeth together. Motherfucker.