Before I knew it, I was back in school and Jessie still hadn’t apologized for my public embarrassment. I was switching classes when someone grabbed my arm. It was Jessie, of course.
“We need to talk.” She pulled me to the side of the hallway, entering a classroom that the school used as a storage room. I sat on one of the many piled up desks, waiting for her to speak. “Why have you been ignoring me?”
"I haven’t.” I raised an eyebrow. From what I recall, I haven’t received a text or call from her at all on Sunday.
“I tried messaging you on f*******:, I messaged you 16 times.” She said, with a hand on her hip. I raised an eyebrow. I took out my phone and logged into f*******:. After a minute or two, her messages popped up. I just shrugged, feeling a slight relief. At least I knew she was
