J.P Reed
I look over at my friend of seven years. We aren't best friends, I became aware of that when in fourth grade she never invited me to her birthday party, but yelled at me when I didn't say happy birthday.
She is busy typing on her phone, as I listen to the small clacks of the keyboard. It's hard to know someone so long and know you don't trust them-not one bit.
"See you at lunch?" I question, school started two hours ago and this is the first I've spoken to her. She jerks her chin up in response, and pushes herself off the locker next to mine.
I shut it and walk away.
