Camden and I would ignore each other at school—no point feeding the rumors and thereby attracting attention—but after sixth period every day, I’d find a sheaf of papers in my locker: assignment sheets and xeroxed copies of the necessary book pages from Camden and his friends, covered in multicolo...
on my notebook. That’s Kyla-speak for ditching fifth period and going to the mall. I started to write back to her, but she flicked my pen aside and wrote, “Let me guess. No. Too much work.” I smiled ruefully and nodded. She rolled her eyes at me and wrote, “Sucks to be you!” I managed to scribble...