“Give me your sharpener and I’m history,” she said with her hand out.
I dug it out of my drawer and tossed it at her, and sure enough, she disappeared.
But two seconds later my mom was calling for me, and after that, well, I forgot that the paper was in my binder.
Until first period the next morning, that is. Man! What was I supposed to do with it? I couldn’t get up and throw it out; Garrett was right there.
Besides that, Darla Tressler’s in that class, and I could tell – she was keeping an eye out for wayward bees.
If she caught wind of this, I’d be the one stung. Then Garrett reaches over to snag a piece of paper like he does about fourteen times a day,
only I have a complete mental spaz and slam down on his hand with mine. “Dude!” he says. “What’s your problem?”
“Sorry,” I say, tuning in to the fact that he was only going for lined paper, not newspaper.
“Dude,” he says again. “You know you’ve been really spaced lately? Anyone else tell you that?”
He rips a piece of paper out of my binder, then notices the edges of the newspaper.
He eyes me, and before I can stop him, he whips it out. I pounce on him and tear it out of his hands, but it’s too late. He’s seen her picture.
Before he can say a word, I get in his face and say, “You shut up, you hear me? This is not what you think.”
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