“Hey Lia, I think you forgot this!” A voice followed her down the hallway. She’d just escaped Mr. Brown’s chemistry with a hall pass for the bathroom and had no intention of attending any other classes that day. She turned slowly, unable to place the voice of one of the girls from her class. It was Megan Hamilton, tracing Lia’s path with soft footsteps.
“Is this yours?” Megan waved a sheet of lined notebook paper. Lia thought it arch, to say the least, that Megan had actually left the classroom to simply return a sheet of notepaper. Okay, so anybody might have gone to lengths to escape Mr. Brown’s sedative monotone—but still.
Lia froze then, realizing with extreme embarrassment that what Megan probably waved in her hand was one of her poems written for Exene. Lia rushed forward, snatchin
