you say.”
I looked down at my second piece of pizza. My appetite disappeared. “Well, I think I’m done here.” Picking up my tray, I dumped its contents into the trash and grabbed my jacket and bag; putting it on before I walked out in the freezing cold. If I ever saw him again, it would be way too soon.
As I opened the door, the cold wind hit me in the face and I winced and felt tears pounce in the corner of my eyes. Tears were always pouncing in my eyes from the cold. Burrowing further into my jacket, I headed in the opposite direction of my house—moving slowly as the wind shoved up against me. I slipped a few times on pieces of ice but was able to catch myself each time—except for the last one. When I moved one foot forward, it slipped out from under me, my body landing hard on the ground. Not only was my butt sore, but my pants were now soaked by the snow. I would be walking around with wet pants, and I wasn’t allowed to go home.
“You’re kind of a klutz,” he said, coming up from behind me.
You have got to be kidding me. “You’re kind of a stalker.”
He stood in front of me. “Nope. The gate's this way.” He held his hand out to me. I stared, wondering what trick he was going to do. He tilted his head at me. “Do you need any help?”
Probably. But would I accept his? With my luck, I would try to get up on my own and end up slipping the whole time, never finding traction. I would make myself look like an even bigger fool than I already had. As I slipped my petite hand into his large calloused one, he hefted me up without any trouble. Quickly, I took my hand back.
I looked at the ground as I started to move. “Thank you,” I mumbled.
He came up beside me. “What? I didn’t quite catch that.”
I groaned. “Thank you.” I made sure I said it loud enough, so I wouldn’t have to repeat myself again.
“You’re welcome.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets. “So, where are you headed?”
“The library.” I really wanted to drop my pants. The water from the snow was so cold on my butt I would have given anything to dry off.
“Why?” he sounded genuinely confused.
“I like to read.”
“Why?” I glowered at him, and he smirked. “You’re such a grouchy person.”
“I am not. You make me grouchy.” I focused back on my feet: one foot in front of the other.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Why would I tell you my name?” I asked suspiciously.
“I could just call you Grouchy.” He smirked again. “That could be your nickname. You’re Grouchy and I’m Gregory.”
Gregory was a nice name. Too bad it didn’t fit with his personality. “You can call me whatever you like.” I smiled bitterly up at him. I pushed past him and up the steps to the library. My hand was on the door when he yelled out behind me.
“Try not to stalk me tomorrow.”
I turned toward him, flipped him off, and made my way inside the library.
I woke with a start drenched in sweat—clothes clung to my slimy body. I couldn't remember much of the dream, mostly that I had been running from something. Trying to clear the sensation of the dream, I shook my head and noticed my alarm clock had been blaring; so that had woke me up. My fingers skated over the buttons until the I hit the right one, and the alarm went silent. It was still dark out. Looking at the time, the red numbers blared eleven thirty. I groaned. I wanted nothing more than to stay in my warm bed. Why had I agreed to sneak out to the poor sector?
As I turned on the lamp next to my bed, I stared down at the three library books I had checked out earlier. When I arrived at the library, I had spent the rest of the afternoon reading, and finally, around five, I had checked out three books and made my way back home. Agathy never told me how long I was supposed to stay out, but I’d figured I could just sneak in through the back way and up to my room without anyone noticing. Though, when I’d arrived home, my father
I looked down at my second piece of pizza. My appetite disappeared. “Well, I think I’m done here.” Picking up my tray, I dumped its contents into the trash and grabbed my jacket and bag; putting it on before I walked out in the freezing cold. If I ever saw him again, it would be way too soon.
As I opened the door, the cold wind hit me in the face and I winced and felt tears pounce in the corner of my eyes. Tears were always pouncing in my eyes from the cold. Burrowing further into my jacket, I headed in the opposite direction of my house—moving slowly as the wind shoved up against me. I slipped a few times on pieces of ice but was able to catch myself each time—except for the last one. When I moved one foot forward, it slipped out from under me, my body landing hard on the ground. Not only was my butt sore, but my pants were now soaked by the snow. I would be walking around with wet pants, and I wasn’t allowed to go home.
“You’re kind of a klutz,” he said, coming up from behind me.
You have got to be kidding me. “You’re kind of a stalker.”
He stood in front of me. “Nope. The gate's this way.” He held his hand out to me. I stared, wondering what trick he was going to do. He tilted his head at me. “Do you need any help?”
Probably. But would I accept his? With my luck, I would try to get up on my own and end up slipping the whole time, never finding traction. I would make myself look like an even bigger fool than I already had. As I slipped my petite hand into his large calloused one, he hefted me up without any trouble. Quickly, I took my hand back.
I looked at the ground as I started to move. “Thank you,” I mumbled.
He came up beside me. “What? I didn’t quite catch that.”
I groaned. “Thank you.” I made sure I said it loud enough, so I wouldn’t have to repeat myself again.
“You’re welcome.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets. “So, where are you headed?”
“The library.” I really wanted to drop my pants. The water from the snow was so cold on my butt I would have given anything to dry off.
“Why?” he sounded genuinely confused.
“I like to read.”
“Why?” I glowered at him, and he smirked. “You’re such a grouchy person.”
“I am not. You make me grouchy.” I focused back on my feet: one foot in front of the other.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Why would I tell you my name?” I asked suspiciously.
“I could just call you Grouchy.” He smirked again. “That could be your nickname. You’re Grouchy and I’m Gregory.”
Gregory was a nice name. Too bad it didn’t fit with his personality. “You can call me whatever you like.” I smiled bitterly up at him. I pushed past him and up the steps to the library. My hand was on the door when he yelled out behind me.
“Try not to stalk me tomorrow.”
I turned toward him, flipped him off, and made my way inside the library.
I woke with a start drenched in sweat—clothes clung to my slimy body. I couldn't remember much of the dream, mostly that I had been running from something. Trying to clear the sensation of the dream, I shook my head and noticed my alarm clock had been blaring; so that had woke me up. My fingers skated over the buttons until the I hit the right one, and the alarm went silent. It was still dark out. Looking at the time, the red numbers blared eleven thirty. I groaned. I wanted nothing more than to stay in my warm bed. Why had I agreed to sneak out to the poor sector?
As I turned on the lamp next to my bed, I stared down at the three library books I had checked out earlier. When I arrived at the library, I had spent the rest of the afternoon reading, and finally, around five, I had checked out three books and made my way back home. Agathy never told me how long I was supposed to stay out, but I’d figured I could just sneak in through the back way and up to my room without anyone noticing. Though, when I’d arrived home, my father
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