“Well, it looks cool,” I said.
“Thanks.” I was hoping he was okay with cutting his hair, since he was Native American, and I knew that some would never cut their hair because of religious reasons.
“What class do you nave right now?” he wondered.
“Creative writing.”
He was quiet then. I wasn"t sure if he knew that the original teacher was the one who had been found dead last week, but I let it pass. I was itching to bring a new subject into the void. I wanted him to know, maybe in case it would bother him too.
“I"m being followed,” I said, my eyes darting around the lot. We were about fifty feet from the building. The sun glimmered on all those panes of glass, and I had to shade my eyes.
“By who?”
I stopped and so did he. Looking up into his bitter-chocolate eyes I said, “Promise not
