"Wait . . ." Cassie paused for dramatic effect. "Hold up! Some random dipshit is sending you cryptic messages, and you're only telling me this now?" She smacked me upside the head. "What the hell, dude?"

"Sorry. Sorry, jeez." I rubbed the back of my head, wincing at the tenderness. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react this way, Cassandra."

"Do you know who this cojo-o is?" Cassie balled her hands into fists, her knuckles turning milky-white. "Also, how did they get your number? Man, I'd love to kick a thousand soccer balls in their face! The nerve!"

"I'm not sure," I admitted with a shrug. "I mean, this unknown stranger could be anyone—he or she. And the only way they'd have access to my number would be through student records in the administration office," I added, tilting my head to the side.

"Holy Mother of Jesus!" Her eyes grew wide as saucers. "You don't think . . . no, it couldn't be, could it?"

"What are you blabbering on about, Cass?"

"Graham. Graham Shaw!" She swatted my arm repeatedly.

"What about him?"

"Well, think about it. He's the principal's son, so he has easy access to student personnel files."

I rolled my eyes at her hypothesis. "He's not smart enough to pull off something like that. Graham's a football jockey. They're known to have little to no brain cells."

"Gee, I never pegged you as someone who stereotypes, Miss Andrea." She frowned, placing her hands on her hips.

I sighed heavily. "You're right, that was insensitive of me."

"You bet your ass I'm right! Now, I will meet you in the parking lot after home economics." She licked her lips, her mind most likely on food. "Mr. Vasquez's teaching us how to make quesabirrias this week. Last week, we made Tacos de Papa."

"Well, don't be late. Celia wants all of these tasks done before the celebration tonight."

"I hope Chiyo and I will be partnered again today," she said instead of responding to what I told her.

"Cassie . . . I know you're interested in Chiyo Komi and maybe it's time you let her know how you feel," I said and slung my backpack over my shoulder. "And if she doesn't return your affection, well, at least you tried."

"Before I forget, I heard June Chen say she saw Ruby throw your clothes into the dumpster behind the basketball court when she took her weed break."

"Okay. Thank you." I nodded as Cassie began walking off toward the other end of the school.

Making a mental note to retrieve my clothes from the abandoned dumpster after Graham's tutoring session, I headed for the west wing, where Greenbay's library stood untouched, with the last of my patience wearing thin.

I've always loved libraries. The amount of learning and fun you could have was endless. I never understood why some people thought the library was only for nerds and the concept of reading made you "uncool," like having an imagination or an ounce of creativity was somehow sinful.

"Hi, Mrs. Gallagher." I waved, walking up to one of the tables; she finished cleaning.

"Hello, my dear." She tossed the Clorox wipe into the trash can. "Come to share more of your poetry with me?" she asked, closing the container of wipes and setting them on the table.

The time shown on the clock behind the receptionist's desk read: 2:50 p.m.

Twenty minutes into our session, and you're nowhere to be seen, Graham.

I shook my head and reached into my backpack, pulling out my spiral notebook, which contained some of my written poetry. I handed the notebook over to Mrs. Gallagher and studied her face as she glanced over the poem.

She's a magnificent flower,
But tangled in deadly thorns
Stabbing at her fragile greenery
Until nothing stood,
But deep shades of crimson

"You, my dear, are extremely talented. I see you becoming a famous poet one day. Your future banner will read: Unique Poetry by Miss Andrea Ella Wilson. People all over the globe will line up in queues to read 'em."

"Maybe, I–"

"Aye! I've arrived, so let's get this shit over with. Being in this dull, dingy place is harmful to my rep!" Graham announced as the library door swung shut behind him.

I cleared my throat. "You're late."

When his eyes landed on me, he gasped. "You're the tutor Madame Clément assigned me?"

I nodded and tapped my nonexistent watch. "Oui. Our session began twenty minutes ago, fainéant."

"Did you just call me a "slacker" in French?" His eyebrows furrowed.

My jaw dropped in bewilderment.

"Whatever. Well, Miss Wilson, I'm here now." Graham strode to one of the tables and plopped down. "Let's not dillydally." He beckoned me over, and I kissed my teeth in aggravation.

Kill me now. Please. Now.

"Sorry, I'm late. I had important family matters to take care of." He kicked out the chair opposite me when I neared the table.

I set my backpack on the table and sat down in the chair, Graham kicked out for me. "Next session, please be here on time. I have a hectic schedule ahead of me today, bud."

He leaned forward and looked me dead in the face. "If you're so busy today, why'd you agree to tutor me? I'm sure another girl would be willing to take your place." He grinned, showing off his pearly whites.

Not responding to his question, I reached into my backpack and withdrew my textbook. "Comment pouvez-vous bien parler français?" I inquired, flipping through pages.

"How well can I speak French? Pretty damn decent," Graham easily translated without hesitation. He grabbed my textbook and closed it.

"Then why are you here?" I bluntly stated: "To waste everyone's precious time? Because we need to study, not horseplay, so get your foolishness under control."

He slouched in his chair and propped his feet on the table. "I get the feeling you don't like me very much. Am I correct?"

"No." I rolled my eyes. "What gave you–"

"Feet off the table, Mr. Shaw; this ain't your house!" Mrs. Gallagher scolded from the reception desk. "Have some common courtesy."

"Wow. It's amazing how these girls will fawn all over you without a second thought," I mumbled. "I'm surprised you haven't slept with all of them in our graduating class yet."

"Please don't act as if you know me. Okay?" I stopped mid-flip and glanced at him. "Because you don't know anything, Andrea. Also, it's none of your concern who I have or haven't slept with in our class."

Shutting my textbook, I leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table. "But I do know you. We've known each other since middle school, Graham Landon Shaw," I whispered. "You're one of Greenbay's top-appointed basketball stars. You're also the son of an extremely cocky, good-for-nothing principal." My lips formed a half-smile. "How's that sound, huh?"

"Fairly predictable." He lifted my chin with his finger. "Nothing I haven't heard before."

I fell back into my chair, too stunned to speak.

Graham shoved away from the table. "Well, this was entertaining, but I'm outta here. See ya, sexy."

I stood up too quickly, knocking my chair over onto the library floor. "We haven't even begun our session. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm bored, and I have someplace to be. See you on Monday." He grabbed his textbook and jacket.

Scooping up my belongings, I hightailed it out of the library and exited the main metal doors of the building. The frigid mid-February air smacked me in the face—ice covered several spots on the ground.

"Wait. Hey, wait!" I leaped down the stairs and flew toward him at the speed of light.

"Where's your damn coat? It's freezing." Graham glanced over his shoulder and slowed his pace, waiting for me to catch up with him.

"We need to finish conjugating these verbs," I informed him, dismissing the question he asked. "Why are you being so hardheaded?"

"I have family issues to deal with. How many times do I have to repeat myself?" He slammed his books on top of the hood of a gray pickup truck, causing dirt and rust to scatter everywhere.

The sudden bang caused me to flinch, and I inched away from him.

Graham sighed and unlocked his car door. "Here. Put this on. Now." He grabbed a denim jacket off the passenger seat and threw it at me; my textbooks landed on the icy pavement in the process.

"Oh, good grief, Wilson," he muttered, picking up the jacket and placing it around my shoulders. Bits of ice stuck to the fur-lined collar, causing me to shiver.

"See you on Monday," Graham repeated, getting into his truck and throwing his books on the passenger seat. "Go inside, so you don't freeze to death, Andrea. It's too cold to be wearin' shorts." He closed the door and turned on the headlights.

They're not mine. They're Cassie's.

I stepped away as Graham slowly peeled out of the parking lot toward the beginning of Main St., leaving Greenbay High in snow-sprinkled dust.

Yup, he's undoubtedly too dumb to be the cryptic sender. I shook my head. Welp, that's one problem solved. Only ninety-nine more to go. Now to find my damn clothes!