I slammed my backpack angrily onto the floor next to my chair. I was in my 10th grade Honors English class, and it was right after lunch. I had come directly from the library, and I was in a bad mood because the book I had been reading hadn't ended the way I wanted to. Murderous thoughts were floating around in my head, mostly directed at the author of the book I had finished.
"Whoa, SOMEBODY'S having a bad day!" It was Drake, the guy who sat behind me in class. Every day he attempted to either goad me into a reaction, make me mad, or be nice to me. Sometimes all three. Turning my head, I gave him my very best sarcastic death glare.
"Now whatever gave you that idea?" I said. When he opened his mouth in response, I dropped the sarcasm and kept glaring at him. "Don't answer that." I dropped into my seat, resting my folded arms on the desk in front of me, planning on ignoring Drake until he left me alone. That didn't last very long.
"Okay, okay, sheesh!" I heard him say. "Do I get to know why you're mad?"
"Do I get to punch you in the face?" I asked, only halfheartedly. I heard his chair groan as he shifted position, and then his fingers were lightly touching my blonde, braided hair. Reaching behind me, I twitched my braid away.
"Come on, Miri," he wheedled. "Just one little clue." I sighed. I really didn't want hime to know why I was mad, mostly because he would know how much of a bookworm I am.
"Books," I finally said. "That's your clue." A long groan-sigh escaped him then, and I heard a dull thunk sound on his desk behind me.
"I should've known you would be difficult."
