If Allen Ginsberg were here, he would say that our souls are like sunflowers shining in bright the sun.
That we are all created equal.
Books assure us that both segregation and prejudice have been forgotten for decades; but even so, why do people...
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On the next day, things have gotten more depressing: I couldn't find Charlie or Friday anywhere.
They weren't at their classes or lunch period, and when I ask Ziggy and Reese where they are, they simply shrugged their shoulders.
"But why the hell didn't they been answering any of my calls?" I whisper. "Or my texts?!"
Reese, Ziggy, and I were sitting in the library, surrounded by wood, books, and students trying to prepare for their exams.
Even though the library has a deep blue carpet, incredible space, and busy students, Principal Higgins is renovating the upstairs computer room because the school WiFi is terrible.
Wooden shelves took up so much space that we have to find our material downstairs.
Reese frowned as he watches the old librarian waltzed past our table, carrying withered books in her fragile arms.
"Go ahead Leah, speak a little bit louder," he says sarcastically. "I am pretty sure the library has a talking policy."
"SHUSH!"
I look at the irritated kids who sat across from us, turning away from their assigned novels.
Apologetic, I flash the kids a shameful look and continued completing my stupid math homework.
Reese, on the other hand, could not be quiet any longer. He keeps slapping his hands on the desk, rocking himself back and forth and stares at the window.
"God, I fucking hate hanging around this stupid library," Reese mumbles under his breath.
"The silence is literally torturing me."
Looking up from his Precalculus textbook, Ziggy scowled, "Of course it's quiet, Reese. We are in a school library."
"This is fucking anguish, man!" he hissed in frustration.
"Reese—"
"The building smells like someone died in here!"
Putting down his textbook, a vexed Ziggy grunts: "Well, maybe if you'd stopped talking for nine hours straight—"
"Guys!" I spat, lowering my voice. "Do you want the librarian to kick us out?"
Ziggy and Reese trade each other bitter looks but later apologized.
In the meantime, I brush the dark brown locks away from my glasses to construct a slightly messy ponytail.
"Has Charlie called and tell you where he and Friday is?" I inquired the boys.
Clearly annoyed, Reese moans as he leans his back on the wooden chair. His small hands slithered through his strawberry blonde hair and his eyes were closed.
