Angry chick has a temper.
Score.
I have to remind myself to wipe that dopey smirk off my face not to draw suspicion from the detention warden. I can barely believe it, but I’m pretty damn entertained right now—maybe even weirdly aroused?
So, I grab a pen, flip the letter over…
And get to work.
* * *
Aveena
The book was borrowed again on Tuesday. What’s even crazier? It was by Mr. Tate.
Again.
He checked out the same ten books, too, which is odd, but I couldn’t be bothered to think twice about it. Maybe he just really likes boring books? But then again, he doesn’t seem to be reading them or he’d have found my letters by now.
That’s probably borderline unrealistic on my part, but the only thing plaguing my mind when I found out the book was MIA was… Will I get an answer again?
Then I mocked myself.
Dream on, Vee.
Waving goodbye at Lucille, I impatiently await the sound of the door closing before typing the name of the book into the library catalogue.
Loading.
Loading.
Loading.
The book’s status pops up on the screen.
I stop breathing.
In stock.
What the…
I can’t rip my eyes away from these two little words. The library is a ghost town except for a granny and her husband, and I’m confident I can get away with sneaking a peek inside the book while they’re browsing.
Hesitant, I tiptoe toward aisle six like a criminal, relieved to find the book tucked away on the bottom shelf.
Here goes nothing.
My letter rests between two pages, untouched.
No corrections.
No mean comments.
Zero.
Then I turn the letter over.
Well, I’ll be damned.