1642734778_punk-57-pdf

No one’s talking about it. No one’s texting about it. Masen Laurent is
still far off anyone’s radar, and no one believes I’m the superficial brat he’s
making me out to be.
Absolutely no one.
The rest of the school day passes mercilessly slow as I brave lunch and
every single class, feeling like another shoe is going to drop at any second.
But as soon as the final bell rings, I drop off my books at my locker and
grab my duffel for cheer and swim, hurrying out of the school and
to the side parking lot.
“Ryen?” I hear Lyla yell behind me.
But I just keep going. “I’ll be back!” I call over my shoulder.
She knows we have practice and is probably wondering why I’m
leaving the school.
Making my way through the parking lot, seeing students piling into cars
and hearing engines fire up, I scan the crowd for the new guy. I finally see
him, stepping up to a black truck and not carrying a single thing. No books,
no folders, nothing.
As I walk toward him, I notice a couple of guys greeting him while my
friend Katelyn approaches him, coyly grazing her hand along the side of his
truck and acting all shy and shit.
My hopes are dashed. He’s definitely on peoples’ radar.
I hesitate, watching her hug her books and talk, giggling at something
she said, while he stares down at her, calm and cool, looking no friendlier
than he did with me.
Why does that please me?