Huge trash cans were everywhere. Lockers were open and students tossed papers, pens, pretty much anything they didn’t want to take home. I sidestepped an eighth grade boy who was tossing gray (I swear they were once white) gym socks into the trash can. Très disgusting! We didn’t need anything for homeroom today, so I walked straight to class. I could hear the roar of summer vacay mania inside before I even opened the glass door. Inside, everyone was talking about what they were doing over summer break. I walked by a girl who usually sat next to me in math class. “Hi, Elizabeth,” I said. “A little chaotic, no?” “It’s like Animal Planet,” she grumbled. “Got any plans for break?” I asked. “Yeah.” She shrugged, leaning back in her seat. “But why do you care?” “What?” I said, caught off guard. “All I did was ask what you were doing this summer—what’s wrong?” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter if I tell you I’m going to Cape Cod or the moon.
