Angry Clients and Stolen Wallets

I make my way out towards the middle of the parking lot where Taylin (My 1997 Honda Civic) sits. I toss my textbooks into the passenger seat and throw the door shut behind me, before sticking the key into the ignition. As I start to drive out of the lot, I happen to glance in my rearview mirror back towards the high school. Students pile out of the doors, some heading off towards the bike rack, others hopping into the yellow school bus that lays to the right of the main entrance. I notice Allison with her arms crossed leaning against a pink Volkswagen beetle a few rows down. She stares at me with an expression as cold as ice. If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure I would have been staked, buried, dug up, and staked again just for good measure. I hit the gas and speed off. I’m actually starting to wonder if I should talk to my parents about taking some kind of self defense class... May prove useful in my line of work.