The last person she wanted to see was Brock, especially since she smelled of taco stink and depression. All she really wanted to do was go to Gammy’s, shower about fifteen times, and then pull the covers over her head and forget that diaries, scholarships, and high school ever existed. Unfortunately, there was still too much for her to do, so unless she wanted to stay on the mountain forever hiding from one Skylar Preston, she was going to have to drag her butt to the archives. But she didn’t have to be happy about it. She signed in at the front desk and walked down the hallway until she came to the records room. Dumping her stuff off at the computer, Devon stood at the top of the stairs leading down into the archive basement. “Brock?” she called. It was a Tuesday. He should have been working. She waited a few moments, then shrugged. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well and had called in sick. Or maybe he had the day off.
