“What happened?” I asked. But she just shook her head. “Just leave me alone,” she whispered. “Please.” Please? God, she must be desperate if she was using manners. “We started a new book in class,” I told her. She remained quiet, chewing on her lip. “We had a choice,” I said. “The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Grapes of Wrath, or Mrs. Dalloway.” A little snarl peeked out, and I bit back my smile. “I chose for you.”
